slow down, you're doing fine
Flora’s grin turns slow and wicked at Kaisel's question, her shoulders lifting in a coy half-shrug as if she is pretending to weigh the options when she has absolutely already decided. "Today," she declares, tapping her glass lightly against his before the vendor can even fully retreat, "seems like a perfect day for day drinking."
Dust curls around their boots, music testing its chords somewhere near the arena, dogs weaving between knees, and for once she is not measuring escape routes or calculating political fallout or wondering which letter needs answering before sunset. From the way they're both dressed to the rowdy atmosphere around them, it all makes something in her chest feel young again. Not Queen. Not Doubletake. Just Flora, laughing in the sun, heat slicking the hollow of her throat, braid brushing against her collarbone as she leans closer to her husband like gravity prefers it that way.
She bites at the inside of her lip, failing to suppress the curl of her smile, letting it sharpen instead. "I would not complain about losing a few layers," she purrs, one brow lifting, gaze dragging slow and knowing across him before settling back into his eyes. "You know. Because of the heat." His, more than the sun's.
"Cheers to that." She twists her arm against his and tips the shot back, vodka burning bright and clean down her throat, breath catching for half a heartbeat before she exhales through a grin that threatens to split her face in two.
"Babe!" Flora's cheer is instant and unfiltered as she hears Sohalia, and she untangles from Kaisel without hesitation, arms already opening as she steps into her best friend and folds her close, squeezing hard enough to press dust and perfume and nervous energy together between them. Gold rings and a sparkly hairtie flash at Soh’s back as Flora rocks them once in an affectionate bounce before leaning away just enough to take her in.
"MMm, not this year," she answers, wrinkling her nose, braid shifting over her shoulder as she shakes her head. Then her expression shifts—mischief sliding in smooth as silk—and she tilts her head with far too much innocence to be believed. "I thought I saw Koa’s name on the sign-up sheet, though," she says lightly, eyebrows bouncing in exaggerated suggestion, mouth curving around the words as if she is merely offering helpful information and not absolutely enjoying herself.
Flora is by the drink stand chatting with Sohalia and Kaisel
Dust curls around their boots, music testing its chords somewhere near the arena, dogs weaving between knees, and for once she is not measuring escape routes or calculating political fallout or wondering which letter needs answering before sunset. From the way they're both dressed to the rowdy atmosphere around them, it all makes something in her chest feel young again. Not Queen. Not Doubletake. Just Flora, laughing in the sun, heat slicking the hollow of her throat, braid brushing against her collarbone as she leans closer to her husband like gravity prefers it that way.
She bites at the inside of her lip, failing to suppress the curl of her smile, letting it sharpen instead. "I would not complain about losing a few layers," she purrs, one brow lifting, gaze dragging slow and knowing across him before settling back into his eyes. "You know. Because of the heat." His, more than the sun's.
"Cheers to that." She twists her arm against his and tips the shot back, vodka burning bright and clean down her throat, breath catching for half a heartbeat before she exhales through a grin that threatens to split her face in two.
"Babe!" Flora's cheer is instant and unfiltered as she hears Sohalia, and she untangles from Kaisel without hesitation, arms already opening as she steps into her best friend and folds her close, squeezing hard enough to press dust and perfume and nervous energy together between them. Gold rings and a sparkly hairtie flash at Soh’s back as Flora rocks them once in an affectionate bounce before leaning away just enough to take her in.
"MMm, not this year," she answers, wrinkling her nose, braid shifting over her shoulder as she shakes her head. Then her expression shifts—mischief sliding in smooth as silk—and she tilts her head with far too much innocence to be believed. "I thought I saw Koa’s name on the sign-up sheet, though," she says lightly, eyebrows bouncing in exaggerated suggestion, mouth curving around the words as if she is merely offering helpful information and not absolutely enjoying herself.
Flora is by the drink stand chatting with Sohalia and Kaisel
Flora
you can't be everything you wanna be before your time
