flora
The elastic snap of his waistband and the outrage in his voice land at exactly the same time, and Flora cannot help it, she laughs, low and wicked and delighted, shoulders shaking as she remains kneeling there like some smug little villain who has just sprung the perfect trap. The way he had leaned in, shirt caught between his teeth, fully prepared to claim his oral validation, sends another ripple of amusement through her. "Oh no," she purrs under her breath, watching him sputter, watching the heat that had gathered so triumphantly now forced to reroute itself somewhere less satisfying.
When he prowls away, grumbling, hands cutting through the air as though arguing with the Climb's invisible board of directors about access protocols, she watches him with open adoration threaded through her smuggery. He is so dramatic. So earnest. So entirely himself in the way he paces and recalculates like a general planning siege warfare against a fortress made of throw pillows and pride. She can see the tension in him, the restless energy pulling at his hands and shoulders, the way his pants sit just a little tighter than before, and gods if it does not thrill her to know she has done that. That she is the architect of this delicious unraveling. She folds one leg slightly beneath her, settling more comfortably on her calves, chin lifted, eyes bright with victory as she lets him stew in it.
When he finally rips the shirt off entirely, using it to mop at sweat and frustration alike, she inhales slowly—not dramatically, not enough to give herself away—but enough that the air feels charged in her lungs. Two can play that game. Without breaking eye contact, she reaches back and peels her own top away, the movement smooth and unhurried, leaving her in nothing but her black bra against golden skin, the contrast stark in the firelight. She does not pose or preen, but simply remains there, perched and smug, as though this is the most natural state in the world and not a calculated escalation.
Flora raises one brow, doubt carving slowly across her expression as she tilts her head. "Is that your final guess?" she asks sweetly, tone lilting with the promise of consequences. Behind her, Spice shifts and little dragon gives her head an exaggerated shake, no, before lifting into the air with a decisive flutter of wings, white scales catching the firelight as she makes a beeline for Kaisel. In fact there are multiple passwords that would give Kaisel access and while chirades are not the dragon's forte, she thinks there are a few that she could act out. In fact, one of them isn't even a password at all.
Spice reaches him in a blink, small claws delicately grasping the sparkly blue hair tie around his wrist, tugging it just enough to stretch before letting it snap back with a playful flick. Then she hovers there, nodding over her shoulder in Flora’s direction, where, unable to see the manoeuvre unfolding behind her, Flora folds her arms across her chest once more—strategic, proud, accusatory—and fixes the pair with a look that says she is already preparing to deny him again. "HEY!" she calls out, indignant and suspicious all at once, arms tightening across her chest as she twists slightly, trying to sense what betrayal is taking place in front of her. "No outside assistance!"
When he prowls away, grumbling, hands cutting through the air as though arguing with the Climb's invisible board of directors about access protocols, she watches him with open adoration threaded through her smuggery. He is so dramatic. So earnest. So entirely himself in the way he paces and recalculates like a general planning siege warfare against a fortress made of throw pillows and pride. She can see the tension in him, the restless energy pulling at his hands and shoulders, the way his pants sit just a little tighter than before, and gods if it does not thrill her to know she has done that. That she is the architect of this delicious unraveling. She folds one leg slightly beneath her, settling more comfortably on her calves, chin lifted, eyes bright with victory as she lets him stew in it.
When he finally rips the shirt off entirely, using it to mop at sweat and frustration alike, she inhales slowly—not dramatically, not enough to give herself away—but enough that the air feels charged in her lungs. Two can play that game. Without breaking eye contact, she reaches back and peels her own top away, the movement smooth and unhurried, leaving her in nothing but her black bra against golden skin, the contrast stark in the firelight. She does not pose or preen, but simply remains there, perched and smug, as though this is the most natural state in the world and not a calculated escalation.
Flora raises one brow, doubt carving slowly across her expression as she tilts her head. "Is that your final guess?" she asks sweetly, tone lilting with the promise of consequences. Behind her, Spice shifts and little dragon gives her head an exaggerated shake, no, before lifting into the air with a decisive flutter of wings, white scales catching the firelight as she makes a beeline for Kaisel. In fact there are multiple passwords that would give Kaisel access and while chirades are not the dragon's forte, she thinks there are a few that she could act out. In fact, one of them isn't even a password at all.
Spice reaches him in a blink, small claws delicately grasping the sparkly blue hair tie around his wrist, tugging it just enough to stretch before letting it snap back with a playful flick. Then she hovers there, nodding over her shoulder in Flora’s direction, where, unable to see the manoeuvre unfolding behind her, Flora folds her arms across her chest once more—strategic, proud, accusatory—and fixes the pair with a look that says she is already preparing to deny him again. "HEY!" she calls out, indignant and suspicious all at once, arms tightening across her chest as she twists slightly, trying to sense what betrayal is taking place in front of her. "No outside assistance!"
i scream for whatever it's worth
"i love you" ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?
"i love you" ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?
