flora
They crash into the bed with a bounce, legs and limbs flailing in a graceless tumble of laughter, and Flora squeals as her hip bumps the edge of the mattress and sends her sliding into Kaisel like a skipped stone caught by a wave. Her fingers scramble to keep herself close, palms catching fabric and ribs and anything else she can grab before she’s tucked herself right back into the crook of his shoulder, one leg wrapped around his hips, her laugh still spilling into the space between them like it doesn’t know how to stop. She’s flushed and breathless and so deliriously happy it feels like she might vibrate out of her skin, every nerve sparkling, every breath caught in that dizzy, helium-light giddiness that makes it hard to tell where the laughter ends and the love begins. Her whole body aches with it, like the sort of ache that comes from smiling too hard, from holding something precious so close that your heart doesn’t know how to contain it all.
When Kai begins talking about missing pieces and how she had them all along, Flora's face breaks open like the sunrise, her cheeks rounding with a grin so wide it feels like a miracle she doesn’t just burst. She doesn’t laugh because it’s funny, though it is, but because joy keeps trying to crawl out of her throat in every direction and she has to let some of it out before it turns to tears. "It still sounded cool," she says, the words wobbling through a plume of breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, and her voice has that telltale hitch of someone who is trying so hard not to cry from how good it all feels. Her hand catches his before he can hide behind it, engagement ring and glittering orange hair tie flashing like the joyful, chaotic promise it is as she brings his knuckles to her lips and presses a kiss against them. "I mean, mageglass for your soul? That’s, like, absurdly romantic."
But the truth is, she absolutely gets it. It isn’t that she didn’t know what love was before—she’s bled for it, clawed for it, torn herself apart trying to hold onto it, died for it—but back then it had always been something red. Something messy and raw, something that needed feeding or fighting or fixing. Like a flame that demanded everything and still wanted more. Like blood. Like heartbreak. Like pain worn as devotion. But this? This isn’t red. This is golden. This is sunlight caught in honey, warm and slow and glimmering at the edges. This is the afterglow of something sacred. This is the kind of love that doesn’t have to be won, it just is. And maybe Kaisel isn’t perfect, but he's never had to be; there's nothing he does or doesn’t do that makes this what it is. He just is, and gods that's more than enough. It's everything.
"I know what you mean," she says, shifting to hook one leg higher over his hips so she can pull herself closer still, until their bodies are tangled in every possible place and there’s not a scrap of distance between them. Her hands flatten against his chest, not to push but to anchor herself, to feel the thrum of his heartbeat under her palms and know that this is real, that he is hers. "We already promised each other everything we said today," she says softly, "but now that we’re married—" and gods, her voice cracks on it, her mouth twitching with renewed delight as she says it again, slower, richer, as if she can taste the sweetness of it like caramel on her tongue, "—being married to you....it just changes everything." Which in a way obviously it was, but it's also hard to see how a ring, a hairtie, and a few words from a goddess could change so much.
She beams as she says it, unable to stop the sparkle that flashes across her features like someone set off fireworks behind her eyes, her curls spilling wild around her shoulders as she wriggles impossibly closer, like maybe she can just fuse into him and never leave. "It feels like everything’s finally allowed to start properly. Like, I never needed the ring, or a god, or even a ceremony, but...somehow it makes everything feel new. Like the beginning of something, y'know?"
His fingers slip through her hair and her eyes flutter half-shut, breath catching as if that single touch could still undo her, and she lets herself lean into it with a laugh that’s as bashful as it is uncontainable. "I know it sounds stupid," she murmurs, as she gazes at him with her heart practically pouring out through her smile, "but I just want to be here for a while. Not even doing anything. Just...being married to you." The words are ridiculous, and she knows it, but of course she says it anyway. The joy is too big to keep in her mouth, and it keeps tripping out as laughter, tiny little breathy bursts as she traces the edge of his jaw with the backs of her fingers, combing a bit of tousled hair away from his forehead just for the excuse to touch him again. "I could spend all day just sitting here staring at you," she admits, unashamed, even proud of it, because gods know she’s spent hours doing far dumber things than memorizing the boy she loves. Her fingers trace the line of his cheek, her nose brushes his, and the golden thread of joy loops tighter, curls brighter, glows louder. Her world has tilted, and it’s not red anymore. It’s never been red with him. It’s golden, and endless, and despite the seasons they've spent together, it feels like it's only just begun.
When Kai begins talking about missing pieces and how she had them all along, Flora's face breaks open like the sunrise, her cheeks rounding with a grin so wide it feels like a miracle she doesn’t just burst. She doesn’t laugh because it’s funny, though it is, but because joy keeps trying to crawl out of her throat in every direction and she has to let some of it out before it turns to tears. "It still sounded cool," she says, the words wobbling through a plume of breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, and her voice has that telltale hitch of someone who is trying so hard not to cry from how good it all feels. Her hand catches his before he can hide behind it, engagement ring and glittering orange hair tie flashing like the joyful, chaotic promise it is as she brings his knuckles to her lips and presses a kiss against them. "I mean, mageglass for your soul? That’s, like, absurdly romantic."
But the truth is, she absolutely gets it. It isn’t that she didn’t know what love was before—she’s bled for it, clawed for it, torn herself apart trying to hold onto it, died for it—but back then it had always been something red. Something messy and raw, something that needed feeding or fighting or fixing. Like a flame that demanded everything and still wanted more. Like blood. Like heartbreak. Like pain worn as devotion. But this? This isn’t red. This is golden. This is sunlight caught in honey, warm and slow and glimmering at the edges. This is the afterglow of something sacred. This is the kind of love that doesn’t have to be won, it just is. And maybe Kaisel isn’t perfect, but he's never had to be; there's nothing he does or doesn’t do that makes this what it is. He just is, and gods that's more than enough. It's everything.
"I know what you mean," she says, shifting to hook one leg higher over his hips so she can pull herself closer still, until their bodies are tangled in every possible place and there’s not a scrap of distance between them. Her hands flatten against his chest, not to push but to anchor herself, to feel the thrum of his heartbeat under her palms and know that this is real, that he is hers. "We already promised each other everything we said today," she says softly, "but now that we’re married—" and gods, her voice cracks on it, her mouth twitching with renewed delight as she says it again, slower, richer, as if she can taste the sweetness of it like caramel on her tongue, "—being married to you....it just changes everything." Which in a way obviously it was, but it's also hard to see how a ring, a hairtie, and a few words from a goddess could change so much.
She beams as she says it, unable to stop the sparkle that flashes across her features like someone set off fireworks behind her eyes, her curls spilling wild around her shoulders as she wriggles impossibly closer, like maybe she can just fuse into him and never leave. "It feels like everything’s finally allowed to start properly. Like, I never needed the ring, or a god, or even a ceremony, but...somehow it makes everything feel new. Like the beginning of something, y'know?"
His fingers slip through her hair and her eyes flutter half-shut, breath catching as if that single touch could still undo her, and she lets herself lean into it with a laugh that’s as bashful as it is uncontainable. "I know it sounds stupid," she murmurs, as she gazes at him with her heart practically pouring out through her smile, "but I just want to be here for a while. Not even doing anything. Just...being married to you." The words are ridiculous, and she knows it, but of course she says it anyway. The joy is too big to keep in her mouth, and it keeps tripping out as laughter, tiny little breathy bursts as she traces the edge of his jaw with the backs of her fingers, combing a bit of tousled hair away from his forehead just for the excuse to touch him again. "I could spend all day just sitting here staring at you," she admits, unashamed, even proud of it, because gods know she’s spent hours doing far dumber things than memorizing the boy she loves. Her fingers trace the line of his cheek, her nose brushes his, and the golden thread of joy loops tighter, curls brighter, glows louder. Her world has tilted, and it’s not red anymore. It’s never been red with him. It’s golden, and endless, and despite the seasons they've spent together, it feels like it's only just begun.
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
