I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings
Flora holds her breath without meaning to, shoulders creeping upward in a subtle, nervous brace as Kaisel unrolls the map. Her eyes keep darting between his hands and his face, trying to read every twitch of expression, every crease at the corner of his mouth. A ridiculous part of her had worried that he might think it was silly, or too much. But then his excitement breaks across his features like sunlight spilling over storm clouds, and all the tension in her body drains out in one long, invisible sigh. Relief softens her shoulders, brightens her smile, warms her from the inside despite the air that’s cold enough to chill her lungs with every inhale. As he pivots and spins the map, trying to orient himself, she watches him with a crooked grin tugging at her lips.
And when he barrels toward her, Flora instinctively thrusts her mug out to one side like an offering to the gods of not-burning-her-fingers, but honestly? She’d happily sacrifice the entire masterpiece to be swept up by him like this. The warmth of his body hits her first, fast and familiar, and her breath stutters out in something dangerously close to a laugh-strangled sigh. Delight crackles through her like a sparkler lit at dusk, bright and fizzy and impossible to hide. The murmur at her ear steals a full shiver straight down her spine, blooming goosebumps under her sweater and jacket. She twists into him with that unconscious trust that only ever shows up around him now, chin brushing his shoulder lightly as her breath puffs white between them.
"Well," she says, shrugging like she hasn’t just melted into a warm puddle at the sound of his voice, "I just wanted to make sure we actually went." The softness threads in before she can stop it; it's not a wound, but an old ache that twinges when stirred. So many plans in her life had lived and died as promises whispered to the wind, intentions that dissolved long before they could ever become real. And this one...this one mattered. Enough that risking the freezing cold of Deepfrost had felt like a smaller fear than the thought of missing it with him entirely.
But the memory of that ache only lasts a breath. Because they are here. Above Halo. Chasing auroras and sky-whales and all the wild, impossible things she once thought she’d never get.
Flora blinks the melancholy away, letting a wicked grin unfurl across her face, bright and mischievous as starlight on snow. "Though to be fair," she adds, voice lowering with theatrical innocence, "I’m pretty sure we would’ve found ways to stay warm in Deepfrost." Her brows lift, daring him to argue that point. "But this is probably better." Then, tipping her head back to look up at him properly, her curiosity sparks again, a small flame fanned by the wind and the thrill of the coming night. "Have you ever seen starwhales before?"
And when he barrels toward her, Flora instinctively thrusts her mug out to one side like an offering to the gods of not-burning-her-fingers, but honestly? She’d happily sacrifice the entire masterpiece to be swept up by him like this. The warmth of his body hits her first, fast and familiar, and her breath stutters out in something dangerously close to a laugh-strangled sigh. Delight crackles through her like a sparkler lit at dusk, bright and fizzy and impossible to hide. The murmur at her ear steals a full shiver straight down her spine, blooming goosebumps under her sweater and jacket. She twists into him with that unconscious trust that only ever shows up around him now, chin brushing his shoulder lightly as her breath puffs white between them.
"Well," she says, shrugging like she hasn’t just melted into a warm puddle at the sound of his voice, "I just wanted to make sure we actually went." The softness threads in before she can stop it; it's not a wound, but an old ache that twinges when stirred. So many plans in her life had lived and died as promises whispered to the wind, intentions that dissolved long before they could ever become real. And this one...this one mattered. Enough that risking the freezing cold of Deepfrost had felt like a smaller fear than the thought of missing it with him entirely.
But the memory of that ache only lasts a breath. Because they are here. Above Halo. Chasing auroras and sky-whales and all the wild, impossible things she once thought she’d never get.
Flora blinks the melancholy away, letting a wicked grin unfurl across her face, bright and mischievous as starlight on snow. "Though to be fair," she adds, voice lowering with theatrical innocence, "I’m pretty sure we would’ve found ways to stay warm in Deepfrost." Her brows lift, daring him to argue that point. "But this is probably better." Then, tipping her head back to look up at him properly, her curiosity sparks again, a small flame fanned by the wind and the thrill of the coming night. "Have you ever seen starwhales before?"
and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this
