I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings
Flora’s teeth catch gently at her lower lip, partly to tame the grin threatening to spill across her whole face, partly because Kaisel’s warmth—his voice, his certainty, his casual tease of improvised heat—all of it coils through her with a bright, fluttery rush she still hasn’t learned how to manage gracefully. She lifts one shoulder in a slow, teasing shrug, aqua eyes glimmering up at him with barely contained delight. "Well," she says, tone lilting into flirtation with almost musical ease, "if you start getting chilly, you should definitely let me know. I’m sure I can...do something about it."
Near her elbow, Spice gives a theatrical huff, exhaling a tiny plume of frost that curls in the air like the world’s shadiest judgmental cloud. Flora shoots the little dragon a scandalized look over the rim of her cocoa. "We're not all cold blooded like you," she mutters, though her laughter warms her voice.
When Kaisel steps away to fetch his own mug, the brief loss of his heat makes the cold nip sharper at the edges, but she pulls her drink close, wrapping her hands around it—one mittened, one bare—until the warmth seeps through her fingers. She catches the faint drop in his tone, the small tug of something quieter beneath his words, and it sparks something protective and tender in her chest. "Oh, but that’s great," she says, smile blooming wider and richer, as if she can flood light over anything that darkened him even slightly. "It means there are so many firsts we get to experience together."
For a moment she just...looks at him. Really looks. Letting her gaze trace the urve of his cheek, the way sunset light catches in the brown of his eyes, the way steam drifting from their mugs curls into his hair. There’s a fullness in her chest that almost aches with how much she feels for him in a way that's messy, dazzling, and fiercely soft. Words could never catch all of it, but it spills quietly into her expression anyway, bright and sure.
The whipped cream on his nose does not help her composure.
Her smile tilts crookedly just as Spice decides to intervene. With a delighted chirp, the white dragon swoops up to Kaisel’s shoulder, her long neck curving elegantly as she leans forward and gives one decisive swipe of her little pink tongue right across the cream dotting the tip of his nose. Flora dissolves into laughter, the sound bubbling up warm and quick and utterly helpless. "Honestly," she manages between giggles, "if she hadn’t done it, I was about to."
Her mittened hand presses lightly to her chest as she tucks herself back against the wheel, still grinning at the sight of him; frog-eyed hat, dragon helper, cocoa moustache and all. "Me too," she says softly, answering the sentiment beneath his words with all the sincerity he deserves.
Then her gaze lifts to the deepening dusk, where the sky is darkening into that expectant blue right before the first colours of the aurora bloom. "Though hopefully," she adds with a little laugh, "we get to just enjoy the world together, you know? Rather than take it on."
Near her elbow, Spice gives a theatrical huff, exhaling a tiny plume of frost that curls in the air like the world’s shadiest judgmental cloud. Flora shoots the little dragon a scandalized look over the rim of her cocoa. "We're not all cold blooded like you," she mutters, though her laughter warms her voice.
When Kaisel steps away to fetch his own mug, the brief loss of his heat makes the cold nip sharper at the edges, but she pulls her drink close, wrapping her hands around it—one mittened, one bare—until the warmth seeps through her fingers. She catches the faint drop in his tone, the small tug of something quieter beneath his words, and it sparks something protective and tender in her chest. "Oh, but that’s great," she says, smile blooming wider and richer, as if she can flood light over anything that darkened him even slightly. "It means there are so many firsts we get to experience together."
For a moment she just...looks at him. Really looks. Letting her gaze trace the urve of his cheek, the way sunset light catches in the brown of his eyes, the way steam drifting from their mugs curls into his hair. There’s a fullness in her chest that almost aches with how much she feels for him in a way that's messy, dazzling, and fiercely soft. Words could never catch all of it, but it spills quietly into her expression anyway, bright and sure.
The whipped cream on his nose does not help her composure.
Her smile tilts crookedly just as Spice decides to intervene. With a delighted chirp, the white dragon swoops up to Kaisel’s shoulder, her long neck curving elegantly as she leans forward and gives one decisive swipe of her little pink tongue right across the cream dotting the tip of his nose. Flora dissolves into laughter, the sound bubbling up warm and quick and utterly helpless. "Honestly," she manages between giggles, "if she hadn’t done it, I was about to."
Her mittened hand presses lightly to her chest as she tucks herself back against the wheel, still grinning at the sight of him; frog-eyed hat, dragon helper, cocoa moustache and all. "Me too," she says softly, answering the sentiment beneath his words with all the sincerity he deserves.
Then her gaze lifts to the deepening dusk, where the sky is darkening into that expectant blue right before the first colours of the aurora bloom. "Though hopefully," she adds with a little laugh, "we get to just enjoy the world together, you know? Rather than take it on."
and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this
