flora
Flora exhales slowly, the sound leaving her like something unspooling rather than breaking, and the arm draped over Kaisel’s chest tightens as though anchoring herself to the steady beat beneath her ear. Going at Jack head-on, now, unprepared, all bravado and fury, would be like stepping into a storm with bare hands and calling it courage. Waiting isn’t surrender; it’s bracing the doors, counting the exits, making sure the people you love are under cover before the lightning strikes. "It’s better than charging at him blind," she murmurs, the words pressed into the warmth of him rather than thrown into the air. "Better than starting a war when we don’t even know what he’s capable of right now."
His worry cuts sharper than his anger ever could, and she feels it immediately, the way his arms tighten as though he could stitch her into his ribs if he tried hard enough. Flora lifts her head, just enough to see him properly, and the word "hey," leaves her mouth without effort, soft but firm, the way you speak to something skittish and precious at the same time, a hand finding his jaw to keep him with her. "Of course I’d come back," she says, and the answer lands solid, unnegotiable. "I’ve already died once. I know what it feels like, and I know what I’m saying."
She shakes her head when he asks about the feather, mouth pulling tight for a heartbeat before easing again, honesty chosen over comfort without hesitation. Before the fear can flare again, her fingers press into him, grounding, insistent, tracing a path over his ribs like she’s mapping home. "But Remi hears the dead," she continues, steady now, practical in the way she gets when things matter too much to dramatize. "The second it happened, I could tell him exactly where I was, and even if Remi wasn't with Ronin, he can teleport to him, and there isn’t a place in Caido they can’t reach together." Her thumb settles at his collarbone in a quite claim, hair tie sparkling softly on her wrist. "I will always come back to you."
The sadness that flickers across his face mirrors her own, twin reflections of the same want left temporarily unfulfilled. She wants the celebration too, wants the loud joy and the ridiculous spectacle, wants to stand beside him and say this is mine, this is us , and it hurts in a quiet way to set that aside even temporarily. She nudges him gently, forehead brushing his as she tries on a smile and finds that it grows real simply because he’s there. "I hate that we have to wait," she admits, because pretending otherwise would be a lie neither of them deserves, but it would be just as much of a lie to think they'd be able to live with themselves if they chose spectacle over the safety of their friends.
"But we've always had fun doing things together, right?" she adds, eyes brightening as they catch him. " I can buy the base or upgraded items, we finish them off with a quest, save some money and protect everyone at the same time." Her arm tightens again, possessive without being afraid, content in the shared shape they make. It’s not giving up the wedding; it’s sharpening the path toward it, making sure when they finally stand in front of everyone they love, nothing is lurking in the dark waiting to take it away.
His worry cuts sharper than his anger ever could, and she feels it immediately, the way his arms tighten as though he could stitch her into his ribs if he tried hard enough. Flora lifts her head, just enough to see him properly, and the word "hey," leaves her mouth without effort, soft but firm, the way you speak to something skittish and precious at the same time, a hand finding his jaw to keep him with her. "Of course I’d come back," she says, and the answer lands solid, unnegotiable. "I’ve already died once. I know what it feels like, and I know what I’m saying."
She shakes her head when he asks about the feather, mouth pulling tight for a heartbeat before easing again, honesty chosen over comfort without hesitation. Before the fear can flare again, her fingers press into him, grounding, insistent, tracing a path over his ribs like she’s mapping home. "But Remi hears the dead," she continues, steady now, practical in the way she gets when things matter too much to dramatize. "The second it happened, I could tell him exactly where I was, and even if Remi wasn't with Ronin, he can teleport to him, and there isn’t a place in Caido they can’t reach together." Her thumb settles at his collarbone in a quite claim, hair tie sparkling softly on her wrist. "I will always come back to you."
The sadness that flickers across his face mirrors her own, twin reflections of the same want left temporarily unfulfilled. She wants the celebration too, wants the loud joy and the ridiculous spectacle, wants to stand beside him and say this is mine, this is us , and it hurts in a quiet way to set that aside even temporarily. She nudges him gently, forehead brushing his as she tries on a smile and finds that it grows real simply because he’s there. "I hate that we have to wait," she admits, because pretending otherwise would be a lie neither of them deserves, but it would be just as much of a lie to think they'd be able to live with themselves if they chose spectacle over the safety of their friends.
"But we've always had fun doing things together, right?" she adds, eyes brightening as they catch him. " I can buy the base or upgraded items, we finish them off with a quest, save some money and protect everyone at the same time." Her arm tightens again, possessive without being afraid, content in the shared shape they make. It’s not giving up the wedding; it’s sharpening the path toward it, making sure when they finally stand in front of everyone they love, nothing is lurking in the dark waiting to take it away.
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
