flora
Giggling helplessly as Kaisel shakes her, her limbs loose and breath caught somewhere in the dazzle of it all, Flora can only smile like the sea’s poured starlight straight into her chest. She’s breathless and buoyant and hopelessly in love, his nose brushing hers like punctuation to a sentence she never wants to end. For a moment she just stays like that, curled close to him in the quiet tremble of the aftermath, marvelling at the realness of this—how he’s here, how he’s hers, how something as fragile as a heart could possibly be strong enough to hold this kind of joy. Her lips ache from smiling, her cheeks flushed with warmth that doesn’t know where to go anymore because it’s in everything; her pulse, her bones, her fingertips.
And then he’s holding her chin, and she’s tilting into it like it’s instinct, and when she looks at him it’s like seeing something carved into her soul. The dark silk of his hair curling near his cheek, his copper eyes bright as hammered metal and so devastatingly open, like he’s never wanted anything more than her in his whole, wild life. The way his features soften for her, their edges etched by salt and wind and laughter, makes her feel like she’s holding something precious and ancient, like a prayer she’s been whispering into the world for years has finally been answered, right here in front of her, in the shape of a boy whose grin could gut her with joy.
Forever and then some.
The words ripple down her spine like music, and Flora’s breath staggers out of her as if she’d been holding it all this time. Her chest swells with it, lungs too small to contain the enormity of what she feels, because it’s not just forever that she wants, it’s everything beyond it. She wants lifetimes. She wants next worlds. She wants whatever comes after starlight fades and gravity gives up and they're hurled into Mort's realm. "Forever and then some," she echoes, barely a whisper, and her voice is full of glittering awe, of a greedy, bottomless kind of love that makes her tilt her head back and laugh softly, trying to contain the supernova erupting behind her ribs.
When he moves, she’s already reaching for him, fingers curling around his to pull herself upright with hima. "I’ll get them," she hums, and then she’s gone in a rush of messy curls and bare feet, padding quickly into the bedroom of the Sugartide and yanking open the drawer where all her odds and ends live. The hairties she picks out aren’t special, at least not to anyone else. One’s a deep, burnt orange, just a little faded, and the other is a watery blue, both stretched from wear, and as close to the colour of their eyes as her collection allows for. But in her hands now, they may as well be forged from stardust and promise, more sacred than gold. She holds them like vows, trembling just slightly as she steps back into the room.
The orange one, the closest she has to copper, she presses into his palm without a word, her fingers brushing his as she holds it there. Her blue one she clasps in her own hand like it holds all her future. Her voice is velvet when it comes, hushed and radiant and steeped in too much love to contain properly. "Safrin?" she whispers as her gaze lifts, shimmering with happy tears. "I can’t wait even a second more without being married to this man. Would you—" her voice catches, breath hitches, and she bites her lip, swallowing the overwhelmed joy like it’s ambrosia, "—would you do the honours?"
And gods, the anticipation floods her veins like champagne. Her whole body sings with it, skin glowing with the press of love that’s blooming brighter than any star. She clutches the blue hairtie against her chest, breath held, heart open and so impossibly ready.
And then he’s holding her chin, and she’s tilting into it like it’s instinct, and when she looks at him it’s like seeing something carved into her soul. The dark silk of his hair curling near his cheek, his copper eyes bright as hammered metal and so devastatingly open, like he’s never wanted anything more than her in his whole, wild life. The way his features soften for her, their edges etched by salt and wind and laughter, makes her feel like she’s holding something precious and ancient, like a prayer she’s been whispering into the world for years has finally been answered, right here in front of her, in the shape of a boy whose grin could gut her with joy.
Forever and then some.
The words ripple down her spine like music, and Flora’s breath staggers out of her as if she’d been holding it all this time. Her chest swells with it, lungs too small to contain the enormity of what she feels, because it’s not just forever that she wants, it’s everything beyond it. She wants lifetimes. She wants next worlds. She wants whatever comes after starlight fades and gravity gives up and they're hurled into Mort's realm. "Forever and then some," she echoes, barely a whisper, and her voice is full of glittering awe, of a greedy, bottomless kind of love that makes her tilt her head back and laugh softly, trying to contain the supernova erupting behind her ribs.
When he moves, she’s already reaching for him, fingers curling around his to pull herself upright with hima. "I’ll get them," she hums, and then she’s gone in a rush of messy curls and bare feet, padding quickly into the bedroom of the Sugartide and yanking open the drawer where all her odds and ends live. The hairties she picks out aren’t special, at least not to anyone else. One’s a deep, burnt orange, just a little faded, and the other is a watery blue, both stretched from wear, and as close to the colour of their eyes as her collection allows for. But in her hands now, they may as well be forged from stardust and promise, more sacred than gold. She holds them like vows, trembling just slightly as she steps back into the room.
The orange one, the closest she has to copper, she presses into his palm without a word, her fingers brushing his as she holds it there. Her blue one she clasps in her own hand like it holds all her future. Her voice is velvet when it comes, hushed and radiant and steeped in too much love to contain properly. "Safrin?" she whispers as her gaze lifts, shimmering with happy tears. "I can’t wait even a second more without being married to this man. Would you—" her voice catches, breath hitches, and she bites her lip, swallowing the overwhelmed joy like it’s ambrosia, "—would you do the honours?"
And gods, the anticipation floods her veins like champagne. Her whole body sings with it, skin glowing with the press of love that’s blooming brighter than any star. She clutches the blue hairtie against her chest, breath held, heart open and so impossibly ready.
Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness
'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea
'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea
