Whether I'm gonna curse you out or
Take you back to my house
Take you back to my house
Flora’s lips twitch faintly, an almost-smile that doesn’t quite make it past the ache in her chest. She glances over her shoulder at him, eyes flicking toward his bucket and then back to the mud-streaked wall. "Anything I can do to help?" she asks, voice soft, knowing that likely there was nothing, especially not as Hotaru's daughter, but wanting to ask just the same.
When he startles at her mention of Melita, Flora lets out a light laugh, the sound thin but genuine. "Yeah, we channelled her back after, just to make sure she was okay," she says, wringing the sponge again, carefully skipping over the part about Kaisel; about how stupid and reckless it had been to channel someone in the middle of the ocean, like Mel would suddenly float just because she’d borrowed a bit of divine juice. It’s funny in hindsight, but hadn't been in the moment.
When Sunjata’s arms come around her, the sponge slips forgotten into the bucket. She folds into him instinctively, pressing her face against his chest. He’s solid and steady, his heartbeat an anchor she can cling to, and for a moment she thinks maybe she could just disappear here; just let his warmth swallow all the sharp edges she’s been carrying. She exhales shakily, the sound muffled by his shirt, and her hands clutch lightly at the fabric near his ribs. Gods, she’s so grateful for him.
A small, quiet sniffle escapes before she can stop it. "It’s probably naive," she murmurs, her voice thick, "but I always thought if you made the right choices, they weren’t supposed to hurt so bad." She shrugs lightly against him, a motion that trembles more than she wants it to. Tilting her chin up, she presses her lips into a thin, tight line before adding, "But nothing’s ever hurt like that. Not when I died." Her breath hitches. "Not even when Enzo did." Because she’d known she could get Enzo back. But Jack—once that letter left her hands—she’d known she was never getting him back again. Doubted if he'd ever look at her in the eyes or speak to her again.
When he tells her not to settle for less, she looks up at him, eyes glistening but steady now, and something shifts behind the shine; something resolute and gentle all at once. "You too," she says softly, nudging him in the ribs, her voice breaking just slightly around the words.
When he startles at her mention of Melita, Flora lets out a light laugh, the sound thin but genuine. "Yeah, we channelled her back after, just to make sure she was okay," she says, wringing the sponge again, carefully skipping over the part about Kaisel; about how stupid and reckless it had been to channel someone in the middle of the ocean, like Mel would suddenly float just because she’d borrowed a bit of divine juice. It’s funny in hindsight, but hadn't been in the moment.
When Sunjata’s arms come around her, the sponge slips forgotten into the bucket. She folds into him instinctively, pressing her face against his chest. He’s solid and steady, his heartbeat an anchor she can cling to, and for a moment she thinks maybe she could just disappear here; just let his warmth swallow all the sharp edges she’s been carrying. She exhales shakily, the sound muffled by his shirt, and her hands clutch lightly at the fabric near his ribs. Gods, she’s so grateful for him.
A small, quiet sniffle escapes before she can stop it. "It’s probably naive," she murmurs, her voice thick, "but I always thought if you made the right choices, they weren’t supposed to hurt so bad." She shrugs lightly against him, a motion that trembles more than she wants it to. Tilting her chin up, she presses her lips into a thin, tight line before adding, "But nothing’s ever hurt like that. Not when I died." Her breath hitches. "Not even when Enzo did." Because she’d known she could get Enzo back. But Jack—once that letter left her hands—she’d known she was never getting him back again. Doubted if he'd ever look at her in the eyes or speak to her again.
When he tells her not to settle for less, she looks up at him, eyes glistening but steady now, and something shifts behind the shine; something resolute and gentle all at once. "You too," she says softly, nudging him in the ribs, her voice breaking just slightly around the words.
flora
I haven't decided yet
But I'm gonna get you back
But I'm gonna get you back
