When enemies are at your door, I'll carry you way from war
The ground is cooler to the touch, preserving most of Spice’s attention and pressing it into their skin like proof that there’s no real ice between them, not comparatively. Quietly, he adjusts to the curve of her as she joins him, though she remains so bowed over herself, protecting something instead of offering something, and it silently works the back of his throat to see it. An arm tucks around her, fingers tracing a pattern of reassurance back and forth over her side, afraid to force her open and pull her in, so he lingers on the edges like a reminder he’s still here too, a quiet brace at her side so she doesn’t have to hold herself up alone.
All the while, he listens, teeth pressing in tighter the more she explains, the more the true enormity of what’s here rises up from the clouds his mind had been in. He doesn’t let his own thoughts spill out prematurely, not when she’s finally got the strength to put more behind her voice, so he listens with a thinning patience as she explains, each new sentence a fresh horror being brought to light. When she glances up at him, his copper eyes seek hers, and widen with the reminder.
The words land wrong in his body, like something swallowed that shouldn’t have been. Not sharp—sick. The mention of the beach drags heat and ozone back across his skin, the remembered smell of burned air and panic rethreading itself through his chest in a way that makes his stomach pitch. For a moment, it’s hard to breathe past it. Not because of the pain, but because of the realization that it hadn’t just been him being foolish and loud that’d almost done him in. There had been someone else in his head the whole time, listening.
His jaw tightens, then loosens again, breath scraping in slow and deliberate, anchoring himself to the cold beneath him. The idea of it crawls under his skin the longer it sits there, that Jack had heard him thinking, had known exactly when to strike, had been inside his mind. Kaisel drags his free hand down his face, thumb pressing briefly at his mouth, trying to break through the memory with the pressure. It brings a crisp, personal understanding of what she must have endured all this time. What originally felt like something minor, not nearly as destructive as outwardly explosive abilities, now seeps in with clarity. Where he might only wonder what Spice is thinking, Jack had used it to twist the people around him to his benefit in the most invasive way imaginable.
“Flora, that’s—” He stops, shakes his head once, before it bows over him in aching disbelief. There aren’t words yet that don’t feel too small or too loud. His gaze drops to where she’s curled against his leg, to the way her fingers twitch like they’re searching for purchase in thin air. His chest tightens painfully at the sight. Without hesitation, he reaches and drags her closer, legs bracketing around hers while he sags over her from behind, arms snaking around her middle as he presses his head into her. ”He trespassed,” he manages to peel the words between his teeth, more breath than sound. ”He used everything you were against you, that’s so unbelievably fucked Flora.” It all sits like disgust curling through him, bile rising in his mind. ”That’s why you…” his grip tightens, a kiss presses to the edge of her head. ”I’m so sorry, Flora. You never should have had to deal with that, or carry that. That’s not love.”
All the while, he listens, teeth pressing in tighter the more she explains, the more the true enormity of what’s here rises up from the clouds his mind had been in. He doesn’t let his own thoughts spill out prematurely, not when she’s finally got the strength to put more behind her voice, so he listens with a thinning patience as she explains, each new sentence a fresh horror being brought to light. When she glances up at him, his copper eyes seek hers, and widen with the reminder.
The words land wrong in his body, like something swallowed that shouldn’t have been. Not sharp—sick. The mention of the beach drags heat and ozone back across his skin, the remembered smell of burned air and panic rethreading itself through his chest in a way that makes his stomach pitch. For a moment, it’s hard to breathe past it. Not because of the pain, but because of the realization that it hadn’t just been him being foolish and loud that’d almost done him in. There had been someone else in his head the whole time, listening.
His jaw tightens, then loosens again, breath scraping in slow and deliberate, anchoring himself to the cold beneath him. The idea of it crawls under his skin the longer it sits there, that Jack had heard him thinking, had known exactly when to strike, had been inside his mind. Kaisel drags his free hand down his face, thumb pressing briefly at his mouth, trying to break through the memory with the pressure. It brings a crisp, personal understanding of what she must have endured all this time. What originally felt like something minor, not nearly as destructive as outwardly explosive abilities, now seeps in with clarity. Where he might only wonder what Spice is thinking, Jack had used it to twist the people around him to his benefit in the most invasive way imaginable.
“Flora, that’s—” He stops, shakes his head once, before it bows over him in aching disbelief. There aren’t words yet that don’t feel too small or too loud. His gaze drops to where she’s curled against his leg, to the way her fingers twitch like they’re searching for purchase in thin air. His chest tightens painfully at the sight. Without hesitation, he reaches and drags her closer, legs bracketing around hers while he sags over her from behind, arms snaking around her middle as he presses his head into her. ”He trespassed,” he manages to peel the words between his teeth, more breath than sound. ”He used everything you were against you, that’s so unbelievably fucked Flora.” It all sits like disgust curling through him, bile rising in his mind. ”That’s why you…” his grip tightens, a kiss presses to the edge of her head. ”I’m so sorry, Flora. You never should have had to deal with that, or carry that. That’s not love.”
Kaisel
If you need help, I'll shut down the city lights
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
