slow down, you're doing fine
Kaisel ’s arm slips around her waist and Flora’s grin flickers, just for a breath, as she listens to his too-precise whisper. Then she snorts softly, the sound inelegant and entirely hers, smile blooming right back into place as if nothing in the world could puncture it. Wondering why she was drunk, nevertheless she's already turning with bright cheer, braid swinging as she lifts her voice toward Hawthorn. "Hey, Thorn—" The yelp that tears out of her is sharp and startled as something cold and violently sweet splashes across her chest. Bright red blooms over white in an instant, sticky and shocking, the slushie cascading down in syrupy rivulets that cling and drip and then, insult to injury, pool over Kaisel’s bare feet.
She jumps back on instinct, eyes wide, hands flying out from her sides. For half a second she looks every bit the caricature of someone who has overindulged and lost control of her drink, and then her expression tightens because while she was occasionally clumsy, this time, she hadn't been. Her gaze slides over her shoulder, slow and deliberate, scanning the rows above. She follows the trajectory of where the cup must have fallen from and her eyes land there, on Jack, arm slung around a redhead who leans easy and intimate across his lap, Calypso tipped inward toward them both.
Her breath catches and while it's small, almost invisible, it's there. The sticky chill on her skin is nothing compared to the sudden prickle beneath her ribs. For all of Caly's semi-righteous hatred toward she and Kai, she was an attuned, so it couldn't have been her. But between Jack and his daughter and the deliberatenessof that spill, she is certain this was not clumsy chance, and it stings.
Not because of the shirt—though it was a good shirt—but because retaliation, out of nowhere, feels petty and pointed in a way she does not expect from Jack. It makes something in her chest tighten, old ache brushing against something she had thought set down, before a roar from the arena snaps through her like a whipcrack and she spins too late to see the moment itself, just in time to watch Koa hit dirt, and though she has missed the actual bucking, she throws both hands into the air anyway. "WHOOOOP!" she whoops, loud and unashamed, clapping hard enough that her rings flash in the sun. "YES!"
Her grin comes back fierce and bright, defiant as anything. If she feels watched, if she feels needled, she does not let it root. Without hesitation she hooks one arm aggressively through Kaisel ’s and the other through Hawthorn ’s, red slushie be damned, tugging them both forward with queenly insistence. "Come on," she declares, already steering them away from the stands and60ft away away from Jack and his carefully arranged tableau. "Let's go greet our champion."
Flora drags Thorn and Kaiout of the range of Jack's telepathy to congratulate Sohalia!
6/6 clothes
She jumps back on instinct, eyes wide, hands flying out from her sides. For half a second she looks every bit the caricature of someone who has overindulged and lost control of her drink, and then her expression tightens because while she was occasionally clumsy, this time, she hadn't been. Her gaze slides over her shoulder, slow and deliberate, scanning the rows above. She follows the trajectory of where the cup must have fallen from and her eyes land there, on Jack, arm slung around a redhead who leans easy and intimate across his lap, Calypso tipped inward toward them both.
Her breath catches and while it's small, almost invisible, it's there. The sticky chill on her skin is nothing compared to the sudden prickle beneath her ribs. For all of Caly's semi-righteous hatred toward she and Kai, she was an attuned, so it couldn't have been her. But between Jack and his daughter and the deliberatenessof that spill, she is certain this was not clumsy chance, and it stings.
Not because of the shirt—though it was a good shirt—but because retaliation, out of nowhere, feels petty and pointed in a way she does not expect from Jack. It makes something in her chest tighten, old ache brushing against something she had thought set down, before a roar from the arena snaps through her like a whipcrack and she spins too late to see the moment itself, just in time to watch Koa hit dirt, and though she has missed the actual bucking, she throws both hands into the air anyway. "WHOOOOP!" she whoops, loud and unashamed, clapping hard enough that her rings flash in the sun. "YES!"
Her grin comes back fierce and bright, defiant as anything. If she feels watched, if she feels needled, she does not let it root. Without hesitation she hooks one arm aggressively through Kaisel ’s and the other through Hawthorn ’s, red slushie be damned, tugging them both forward with queenly insistence. "Come on," she declares, already steering them away from the stands and
Flora drags Thorn and Kai
6/6 clothes
Flora
you can't be everything you wanna be before your time
