ditch the clowns, get the crown
Flora can hardly keep her eyes where they’re supposed to be, not when Kai is wearing leather and purple in a way that heat-strokes her attention every few steps. The dragon-hood shadows half his face, the embroidery catching firelight like scales, and the torn black jeans do unspeakable things to her ability to behave. Her gaze keeps drifting down and back up again in a slow, unapologetic climb that ends every time with her biting her lower lip around a smile.
She leans against him as they walk, tucked perfectly into the line of his body, the pressure of his arm around her ribs an anchor she’s more than happy to orbit. Every time the bonfire flares, it paints his profile in warm gold and emerald and ruby, carving him out of the wet dark like some festival-born god she’s been personally blessed with. The sight of him alone could melt the rain, she's sure.
Her nose wrinkles affectionately when he squeezes her tighter, the corners of her mouth lifting into something full and bright, and she nods to his reassurance. "Good," she mouths back up at him, the word soft and happy, her aqua gaze glimmering with messy threads of love and want. There isn’t a single part of her worried about who else might be here; not Jack, not Caly. The Hollowed Grounds is far from the south, and tonight all her thoughts drift the same way her hand does when it slides down the back of Kai’s arm: straight to him.
At the drink table she reaches for something amber and aromatic, not bothering to read or ask what it is, only lifting it with a crooked, conspiratorial grin. She bumps her cup against his in a playful little toast, a muted cheers swallowed by the roar of fireworks overhead and the percussion shake of drums rolling through the tents. The sip that follows burns pleasantly, seeping warmth through her chest and melting straight into the laughter curling behind her teeth.
Her eyes sweep across the chaotic tangle of bodies and firelight and rain, searching for someone who might fit the vague idea she’s built of Charlie, except all she’s ever seen is the dragon form. Flora’s brows lift as she turns her face back toward Kai, curiosity flickering like a match in her gaze. "Have you seen Charlie yet?" She asks, standing a little on her toes as if that will somehow give her a better vantage over the crowd. She takes another sip, nudging her shoulder against his as she rises onto her toes again, scanning for anything that might be a dragon-girl priestess ready to bestow some kind of mysterious honour she still isn’t sure she wants—or maybe desperately does—if it makes Kai smile the way he’s smiling tonight.
She leans against him as they walk, tucked perfectly into the line of his body, the pressure of his arm around her ribs an anchor she’s more than happy to orbit. Every time the bonfire flares, it paints his profile in warm gold and emerald and ruby, carving him out of the wet dark like some festival-born god she’s been personally blessed with. The sight of him alone could melt the rain, she's sure.
Her nose wrinkles affectionately when he squeezes her tighter, the corners of her mouth lifting into something full and bright, and she nods to his reassurance. "Good," she mouths back up at him, the word soft and happy, her aqua gaze glimmering with messy threads of love and want. There isn’t a single part of her worried about who else might be here; not Jack, not Caly. The Hollowed Grounds is far from the south, and tonight all her thoughts drift the same way her hand does when it slides down the back of Kai’s arm: straight to him.
At the drink table she reaches for something amber and aromatic, not bothering to read or ask what it is, only lifting it with a crooked, conspiratorial grin. She bumps her cup against his in a playful little toast, a muted cheers swallowed by the roar of fireworks overhead and the percussion shake of drums rolling through the tents. The sip that follows burns pleasantly, seeping warmth through her chest and melting straight into the laughter curling behind her teeth.
Her eyes sweep across the chaotic tangle of bodies and firelight and rain, searching for someone who might fit the vague idea she’s built of Charlie, except all she’s ever seen is the dragon form. Flora’s brows lift as she turns her face back toward Kai, curiosity flickering like a match in her gaze. "Have you seen Charlie yet?" She asks, standing a little on her toes as if that will somehow give her a better vantage over the crowd. She takes another sip, nudging her shoulder against his as she rises onto her toes again, scanning for anything that might be a dragon-girl priestess ready to bestow some kind of mysterious honour she still isn’t sure she wants—or maybe desperately does—if it makes Kai smile the way he’s smiling tonight.
Flora
baby i'm the one to beat
