flora
Flora’s head shakes fast, curls catching the lantern light, her eyes wide and wild with disbelief. "That’s like saying if I offer someone a cocktail, what I actually want is for them to get drunk," she shoots back, voice trembling between exasperation and hurt. "Just because I said they could be naked doesn’t mean there was anything beyond that, Kai. I suggested it because I know them and know that's what they'd prefer. It isn't any deeper than that."
Her breath catches, the colour in her face bright with frustration, but then his next words land and something in her expression falters. Confusion drags her lips apart in a small, shocked O. "How am I embarrassed of you?" she demands, the question escaping in a rush of breath that sounds almost like a gasp. "What are you even talking about?" The accusation of her friends sparks next, sharp and immediate. "And yes," she adds, incredulous and raw, "half-assed snipes to Danta is literally saying shitty comments to my friends."
There’s more—so much more—ready to come spilling out, a thousand little retorts burning behind her teeth about how his questions had stopped sounding like questions a long time ago and had instead started sounding like a leash, but then he tells her to forget it. The words knock the air straight from her lungs as she's just dismissed. Her jaw slackens, the bright defiance in her eyes flickering out as something quieter, heavier, takes its place. Her lashes flutter once, twice, fighting back the sudden sting that floods her eyes. The tears come sharp and humiliating, and she blinks them away fast, shaking her head as though she can dislodge them.
He’s still talking—each word landing colder, sharper, more foreign than the last—and Flora takes a small step back, the space between them yawning wider. She glances over her shoulder toward the hot tub, where Asta and Danta are pretending not to watch. For half a heartbeat, she considers it—doing exactly what Kaisel has told her to do—but when she looks back at him, she just feels small. Small and aching and utterly lost in what a mess their evening has become.
Softly, still blinking away the threat of tears, she wraps her arms around herself to ward off a shiver that has less to do with the cool night air and everything to do with the way he’s looking at her. He’s never been like this with her; never mean, never dismissive, never so distant and sharp-edged that she can’t find her way back in. And given how easily nudity and Flora have always gone hand in hand, she can’t begin to understand how he’s leapt from hesitation to just go away. "Why are you being like this?" she asks softly, voice breaking around the edges. "You’re never like this."
Her breath catches, the colour in her face bright with frustration, but then his next words land and something in her expression falters. Confusion drags her lips apart in a small, shocked O. "How am I embarrassed of you?" she demands, the question escaping in a rush of breath that sounds almost like a gasp. "What are you even talking about?" The accusation of her friends sparks next, sharp and immediate. "And yes," she adds, incredulous and raw, "half-assed snipes to Danta is literally saying shitty comments to my friends."
There’s more—so much more—ready to come spilling out, a thousand little retorts burning behind her teeth about how his questions had stopped sounding like questions a long time ago and had instead started sounding like a leash, but then he tells her to forget it. The words knock the air straight from her lungs as she's just dismissed. Her jaw slackens, the bright defiance in her eyes flickering out as something quieter, heavier, takes its place. Her lashes flutter once, twice, fighting back the sudden sting that floods her eyes. The tears come sharp and humiliating, and she blinks them away fast, shaking her head as though she can dislodge them.
He’s still talking—each word landing colder, sharper, more foreign than the last—and Flora takes a small step back, the space between them yawning wider. She glances over her shoulder toward the hot tub, where Asta and Danta are pretending not to watch. For half a heartbeat, she considers it—doing exactly what Kaisel has told her to do—but when she looks back at him, she just feels small. Small and aching and utterly lost in what a mess their evening has become.
Softly, still blinking away the threat of tears, she wraps her arms around herself to ward off a shiver that has less to do with the cool night air and everything to do with the way he’s looking at her. He’s never been like this with her; never mean, never dismissive, never so distant and sharp-edged that she can’t find her way back in. And given how easily nudity and Flora have always gone hand in hand, she can’t begin to understand how he’s leapt from hesitation to just go away. "Why are you being like this?" she asks softly, voice breaking around the edges. "You’re never like this."
I hope you're wetting your appetite, finding your way into someone's eyes
I hope you're dreaming in black and white, and seeing in colour
I hope you're dreaming in black and white, and seeing in colour
