flora
Flora’s mouth twitches, not quite a smile, not quite a frown, something resigned settling into place as the weight of it all presses down again. Breakups aren't supposed to end quietly, but with distance and time sanding the edges smooth they were supposed to end, not come with the looming possibility of war, not with the knowledge that someone who once knew every soft place in you might someday turn that knowledge into a weapon. Married or not, blissfully or not, the thought sits heavy in Flora's chest, and when she shrugs it’s with a tired sag of her shoulders, the kind that comes from carrying something too long without setting it down. "At least if that's the case," she says, voice low and steady despite the ache threaded through it, "he’s only targeting me." The words don’t come out brave so much as factual, a line drawn with quiet inevitability. "I don't know that I'm strong enough to fully stand against him, but I do know that if he killed me, he'd lose his life for it." And it wasn't as though she'd stay dead.
Kaisel's hand finds hers, the contact grounding and insistent, and she looks down at him, searching his face as his words push back against the guilt she keeps trying to claim. For all the trust she has in him, for all the certainty that he is her safe place, the doubt doesn’t disappear so easily, not when it’s been stitched into her for so long. Still, when he tugs her closer she doesn’t resist, her body folding in on itself as she crumples willingly against his chest, spine arching just enough to settle there before her legs shimmy back until she’s stretched comfortably along him. The moment she lands, something eases, the steady rise and fall beneath her cheek turning the world quieter, simpler, more solvable. This is one of the things she loves best, this closeness where his voice vibrates through bone and muscle, where everything feels figure-out-able just by staying still long enough. She nuzzles into the hollow of his collarbone, the absurd fish hat still swallowing her head, and nods faintly against him. "Yeah," she murmurs. "All it would take is him slipping into the edge of a big crowd, and if there’s even a flicker of recognition in someone’s mind, he’d know."
She lifts her head then, just enough to look at Kaisel, taking in the familiar planes of his face with the kind of attention that feels like coming home, and the thought forms slowly, carefully, like something fragile she doesn’t want to drop. "What if we put off the wedding?" The suggestion comes gently, almost apologetically, because wanting him and wanting safety are tangled too tightly to separate cleanly. "We could use the money I set aside for our rings and get new ones for everyone else instead.." Her thumb traces a small, absent line against his chest as she talks, eyes never leaving his. The words trail off, love and reluctance braided together, because she wants to marry him in front of everyone, wants it fiercely, and selfishly, almost as much as she wants the ability to be at his side in an instant no matter the distance between them. But did she want it more than she wanted the safety of their friends? Did she think Jack would stay away long enough for her to put herself first?
Kaisel's hand finds hers, the contact grounding and insistent, and she looks down at him, searching his face as his words push back against the guilt she keeps trying to claim. For all the trust she has in him, for all the certainty that he is her safe place, the doubt doesn’t disappear so easily, not when it’s been stitched into her for so long. Still, when he tugs her closer she doesn’t resist, her body folding in on itself as she crumples willingly against his chest, spine arching just enough to settle there before her legs shimmy back until she’s stretched comfortably along him. The moment she lands, something eases, the steady rise and fall beneath her cheek turning the world quieter, simpler, more solvable. This is one of the things she loves best, this closeness where his voice vibrates through bone and muscle, where everything feels figure-out-able just by staying still long enough. She nuzzles into the hollow of his collarbone, the absurd fish hat still swallowing her head, and nods faintly against him. "Yeah," she murmurs. "All it would take is him slipping into the edge of a big crowd, and if there’s even a flicker of recognition in someone’s mind, he’d know."
She lifts her head then, just enough to look at Kaisel, taking in the familiar planes of his face with the kind of attention that feels like coming home, and the thought forms slowly, carefully, like something fragile she doesn’t want to drop. "What if we put off the wedding?" The suggestion comes gently, almost apologetically, because wanting him and wanting safety are tangled too tightly to separate cleanly. "We could use the money I set aside for our rings and get new ones for everyone else instead.." Her thumb traces a small, absent line against his chest as she talks, eyes never leaving his. The words trail off, love and reluctance braided together, because she wants to marry him in front of everyone, wants it fiercely, and selfishly, almost as much as she wants the ability to be at his side in an instant no matter the distance between them. But did she want it more than she wanted the safety of their friends? Did she think Jack would stay away long enough for her to put herself first?
you don't know that you're living til' you're carrying scars
you're either falling in love or falling apart
you're either falling in love or falling apart
