and all that we intend is scrawled in sand
Flora can’t help the quiet chuckle that slips out of her, even now, even with everything sitting heavy in her chest. She tilts her head, offering Kaisel a wry, sidelong smile that carries more history than the words themselves ever could. "And how would you even tell it wasn’t one of yours?" she asks lightly, multiple occurrences of their kitchen escapades flashing readily before her eyes.
A low hum rolls through her as she moves closer, shoulders lifting in a small, unapologetic shrug. "All things considered," she adds, voice warm with weary mischief, "I think I’m allowed to bend the rules a little tonight." When he answers her in kind, she lifts her brows and lets a tired grin curve her mouth. "Oh yeah?" The look she gives him is soft but unmistakably suggestive. "I'm sure you'd find more uses for it than just tag."
They skirt the kitchen entirely, guided not by stealth alone but by the house itself. Doors ease open before them, floorboards hush beneath their steps, and a breath of warm air nudges them along corridors that seem to shorten out of loyalty rather than architecture. Wildering House conspires in their escape, ushering them upstairs as though it understands exactly what Flora needs right now. The moment the bedroom door closes behind them, Flora exhales a deep, shuddering breath that feels like the first full one she’s managed since Sunjata’s words cracked her world open. The party is gone, reduced to nothing more than distant echoes, and the room feels private in a way nothing else has all night.
She looks around slowly, taking in the familiar space, the soft light, the quiet. This was supposed to end so differently; laughter, tipsy warmth, Kaisel’s hands impatient and hungry, red lace torn away without ceremony. Her palms slide down her hips instead, smoothing over the impossibly thin fabric clinging to her curves, and she lets out a wistful sigh as that version of the night gently dissolves.
Turning toward him, she pivots so her back faces his chest and reaches up to gather her curls away from her neck, exposing the delicate line of her back. She glances back at him over her shoulder, eyes tired but adoring, and asks softly, "Can you help me unzip this?" There’s no disappointment in her voice; even if things went wrong, even if the night shattered somewhere along the way, it still ends here, with him. And right now, that feels like more than enough.
A low hum rolls through her as she moves closer, shoulders lifting in a small, unapologetic shrug. "All things considered," she adds, voice warm with weary mischief, "I think I’m allowed to bend the rules a little tonight." When he answers her in kind, she lifts her brows and lets a tired grin curve her mouth. "Oh yeah?" The look she gives him is soft but unmistakably suggestive. "I'm sure you'd find more uses for it than just tag."
They skirt the kitchen entirely, guided not by stealth alone but by the house itself. Doors ease open before them, floorboards hush beneath their steps, and a breath of warm air nudges them along corridors that seem to shorten out of loyalty rather than architecture. Wildering House conspires in their escape, ushering them upstairs as though it understands exactly what Flora needs right now. The moment the bedroom door closes behind them, Flora exhales a deep, shuddering breath that feels like the first full one she’s managed since Sunjata’s words cracked her world open. The party is gone, reduced to nothing more than distant echoes, and the room feels private in a way nothing else has all night.
She looks around slowly, taking in the familiar space, the soft light, the quiet. This was supposed to end so differently; laughter, tipsy warmth, Kaisel’s hands impatient and hungry, red lace torn away without ceremony. Her palms slide down her hips instead, smoothing over the impossibly thin fabric clinging to her curves, and she lets out a wistful sigh as that version of the night gently dissolves.
Turning toward him, she pivots so her back faces his chest and reaches up to gather her curls away from her neck, exposing the delicate line of her back. She glances back at him over her shoulder, eyes tired but adoring, and asks softly, "Can you help me unzip this?" There’s no disappointment in her voice; even if things went wrong, even if the night shattered somewhere along the way, it still ends here, with him. And right now, that feels like more than enough.
