I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings
Flora tries to keep her balance, but the look Kaisel gives her—that ridiculous, devastating glare of adoration—lands like a hand around her lungs, stealing all the breath she thought she had left. It isn’t even just the words, though gods, no one has ever loved the small, silly parts of her out loud the way Kaisel does. No one has ever said they loved her laugh like it was something worth treasuring, something worth grabbing both hands around and holding close to the chest.
Her cheeks bloom warm despite the cold, a bright flush that has nothing to do with the fading sun. "Well, it’s a good thing you make me laugh all the time then," she answers, grin tugging at the corners of her mouth with a soft sincerity threaded through the sass. And she means it, deeply, loudly, unquestionably. She has never laughed so much, so freely, so fully as she has in the few seasons she’s spent with him. The kind of laughter that loosens the knots in her ribs and makes the world feel easier to live in.
But then his wariness sharpens, and the sparkle of mischief in her expression expands like a sunrise breaking over snow. She tilts her chin up in a way that’s half challenge, half barely-contained delight, her brows lifting in exaggerated innocence that fools exactly no one. She nods vigorously when he leans back, as if confirming every suspicion he has ever had about her. Without breaking eye contact, she slips one hand into the pocket of her coat and draws out a tightly rolled scroll; parchment tied with simple twine and softly worn edges. Her smirk curves sweet and smug as she holds it out toward him with both hands, presenting it like a prize.
"Tadaaa!" She wiggles the scroll once for dramatic flair, waiting for him to take it. And when he does and unfurls the map, he'll see Halo’s skyline traced in pale ink, their rough location marked with a neat X. But the real treasure, the reason her eyes are glittering like she’s swallowing entire constellations, is the sweeping series of arcs and dotted lines that stretch across the page. Migratory paths of Starwhales.
"I bought it off this guy in Hualani," she says softly, unable to stop her smile from widening, "who said he'd tracked them all his life, and that tonight’s one of the peak migration windows." Whether or not it was just bullshit to extract an exorbitant sum of money for the queen was yet to be seen.
Her cheeks bloom warm despite the cold, a bright flush that has nothing to do with the fading sun. "Well, it’s a good thing you make me laugh all the time then," she answers, grin tugging at the corners of her mouth with a soft sincerity threaded through the sass. And she means it, deeply, loudly, unquestionably. She has never laughed so much, so freely, so fully as she has in the few seasons she’s spent with him. The kind of laughter that loosens the knots in her ribs and makes the world feel easier to live in.
But then his wariness sharpens, and the sparkle of mischief in her expression expands like a sunrise breaking over snow. She tilts her chin up in a way that’s half challenge, half barely-contained delight, her brows lifting in exaggerated innocence that fools exactly no one. She nods vigorously when he leans back, as if confirming every suspicion he has ever had about her. Without breaking eye contact, she slips one hand into the pocket of her coat and draws out a tightly rolled scroll; parchment tied with simple twine and softly worn edges. Her smirk curves sweet and smug as she holds it out toward him with both hands, presenting it like a prize.
"Tadaaa!" She wiggles the scroll once for dramatic flair, waiting for him to take it. And when he does and unfurls the map, he'll see Halo’s skyline traced in pale ink, their rough location marked with a neat X. But the real treasure, the reason her eyes are glittering like she’s swallowing entire constellations, is the sweeping series of arcs and dotted lines that stretch across the page. Migratory paths of Starwhales.
"I bought it off this guy in Hualani," she says softly, unable to stop her smile from widening, "who said he'd tracked them all his life, and that tonight’s one of the peak migration windows." Whether or not it was just bullshit to extract an exorbitant sum of money for the queen was yet to be seen.
and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this
