is this the end of all the endings?
Kaisel’s shout is met with a huff of laughter that dances like wind through windchimes; bright, delighted, and utterly unrepentant. From somewhere behind him—everywhere behind him—Flora’s voice floats through the air, syrupy sweet and brimming with smug amusement. "You’re the one who said you only needed your hands," she reminds him innocently, as though this entire thing weren’t completely premeditated. "Which you definitely still have." Another peal of laughter follows, breathless with victory. "Score one for magical items," she adds with a grin he can’t see but can no doubt hear.
She watches—still invisible, still naked and gleaming with mischief—as he thunders his way down the stairs, every stomp filled with dramatic outrage. She hadn't gone down ahead of him, and as he stomps by, she tiptoes—soft and stealthy as a jungle cat—trailing him with predatory patience. She waits until the perfect moment, and then crack.
Her hand strikes his ass with impressive precision, fingers splaying wide to cup the entirety of it in one glorious slap. It makes the most satisfying sound imaginable, a sharp echo of skin against skin that reverberates through the hall like a taunt delivered straight to the gods. And gods help her—because Kai certainly won't—but the sight she’s just slapped is too good not to admire. Because even though it's only Flowerbirth, given that someone wouldn't tan naked last season, Kaisel’s ass, bared in all its lily-white glory, is still a markedly different colour compared to the caramel flush of the rest of him. The tan line makes it criminal. Sacred. Too much to resist.
Flora snickers wickedly from the shadows of her invisibility, entirely uncaring of the consequences she’s just unleashed.
She watches—still invisible, still naked and gleaming with mischief—as he thunders his way down the stairs, every stomp filled with dramatic outrage. She hadn't gone down ahead of him, and as he stomps by, she tiptoes—soft and stealthy as a jungle cat—trailing him with predatory patience. She waits until the perfect moment, and then crack.
Her hand strikes his ass with impressive precision, fingers splaying wide to cup the entirety of it in one glorious slap. It makes the most satisfying sound imaginable, a sharp echo of skin against skin that reverberates through the hall like a taunt delivered straight to the gods. And gods help her—because Kai certainly won't—but the sight she’s just slapped is too good not to admire. Because even though it's only Flowerbirth, given that someone wouldn't tan naked last season, Kaisel’s ass, bared in all its lily-white glory, is still a markedly different colour compared to the caramel flush of the rest of him. The tan line makes it criminal. Sacred. Too much to resist.
Flora snickers wickedly from the shadows of her invisibility, entirely uncaring of the consequences she’s just unleashed.
my broken bones are mending
