lay your soul onto mine
Flora wipes at her cheek, smearing rather than removing the last stubborn streaks of mud, and then stills, turning a slow, wry look toward Kaisel with one brow arched in dry appraisal. The implication is very much intentional, and she lets it land, voice smooth and unimpressed as she flicks the final clump from her jawline. "That was about as much warning as you normally give me," she remarks mildly, the corner of her mouth threatening a smile even as she looks down at the ruin of her sweater.
When he asks if he has anything on her, her answer comes easy, confidence curling through it like a promise. "What kind of question is that?" she purrs, already twisting one of her rings free. "It's like you don't even know me." Which was to say of course she did. The gold slips from her fingers and clinks against the floor, and where it lands the air seems to pull itself together, salt-slick and tidal, until a tide jaguar surges into being, all sleek muscle and ocean-coiled menace. Flora steps forward without hesitation, mud still drying on her shoulder, her presence calm and certain as the jaguar falls into an easy prowl ahead of her, both of them moving in Kaisel’s wake.
The sound of his voice cutting down the hallway makes her flinch despite herself, shoulders jumping just slightly, because every instinct she has insists that spa corridors are meant for whispers and murmurs, not shouting into steam and flickering light. Given the screaming, the overturned furniture, and the mud masquerading as gore, she supposes that particular rule has already been thoroughly violated. She lifts her chin toward the jaguar, murmuring, "Go see," and the creature glides forward soundlessly, melting into the haze.
Flora watches closely as it advances, eyes narrowed, mind already considering outcomes. If the looming shape is truly a person, there will be noise, panic, a very human reaction. If it’s another mud thing, then the absence of response will tell them everything they need to know. She exhales slowly, steadying herself, fingers flexing at her side as the horror-comedy tableau deepens around them.
When he asks if he has anything on her, her answer comes easy, confidence curling through it like a promise. "What kind of question is that?" she purrs, already twisting one of her rings free. "It's like you don't even know me." Which was to say of course she did. The gold slips from her fingers and clinks against the floor, and where it lands the air seems to pull itself together, salt-slick and tidal, until a tide jaguar surges into being, all sleek muscle and ocean-coiled menace. Flora steps forward without hesitation, mud still drying on her shoulder, her presence calm and certain as the jaguar falls into an easy prowl ahead of her, both of them moving in Kaisel’s wake.
The sound of his voice cutting down the hallway makes her flinch despite herself, shoulders jumping just slightly, because every instinct she has insists that spa corridors are meant for whispers and murmurs, not shouting into steam and flickering light. Given the screaming, the overturned furniture, and the mud masquerading as gore, she supposes that particular rule has already been thoroughly violated. She lifts her chin toward the jaguar, murmuring, "Go see," and the creature glides forward soundlessly, melting into the haze.
Flora watches closely as it advances, eyes narrowed, mind already considering outcomes. If the looming shape is truly a person, there will be noise, panic, a very human reaction. If it’s another mud thing, then the absence of response will tell them everything they need to know. She exhales slowly, steadying herself, fingers flexing at her side as the horror-comedy tableau deepens around them.
