you hate the crash, but you love the rush
Flora's just opening her mouth to inform him—quite emphatically—that yes, obviously she’s doing it on purpose when the ground abruptly vanishes beneath her. The drop wrenches a theatrical squeal from her as her arms tighten reflexively around his shoulders, fingers scrambling for purchase as though he’s genuinely about to spill her into the undergrowth. For a split second she clings harder, breath hitching in startled laughter before she leans down close to his ear again, voice dropping to a low whisper threaded with playful menace. "You’re going to pay for that later," she murmurs, the promise curling just suggestively enough to make it clear the reckoning will be creative to say the least.
Even as the Celestine shifts around them—volcanic glow softening into the cooler hush of greenery, leaves whispering overhead, strange creatures rustling somewhere beyond the path—Flora scarcely notices any of it. Her gaze stays fixed on Kaisel instead, aqua eyes studying the sliver of copper she can see when he's looking forward, the shape of his mouth as he tests the words aloud, the dark fan of his eyelashes against the twilight. The rest of the world might as well be scenery painted behind him.
Even though a god has already witnessed their vows and a band already circles her wrist, the words still send a small shiver racing through her. Her arms tighten around him, hugging him closer, the sensation blooming warm and electric through her chest as if her heart hasn’t quite learned that the answer has already been given. When he pauses, beginning his dramatic announcement of the reply, Flora can’t help herself; the words burst from her at the exact same moment. "A THOUSAND TIMES YES!"
The echo of it leaves her laughing breathlessly, a delighted, impatient sound slipping out of her as she squeezes him tighter again, joy fizzing through her like something effervescent and unstoppable. So when he crouches, clearly intending to dump her into the grass, she only lifts a brow in suspicion before a snicker escapes her and she lets herself slide off him anyway, landing in the soft greenery in a tangle of limbs and laughter. Before he can fully straighten, she reaches up, catching hold of him and tugging him down with her.
The kiss she presses to his mouth is bright with righteous happiness rather than heat, the kind born from sheer overflowing affection, though even so, the nearness of him steals the breath from her lungs all the same. The words will you marry me keep echoing somewhere behind her ribs like a bell that refuses to stop ringing.
Eventually she lets him settle beside her so they can both look upward, shoulders brushing as the twilight sky stretches above them. "I wonder," she murmurs thoughtfully after a moment, voice soft with curiosity and mischief alike, "if Safrin will let it be in our own handwriting."
Even as the Celestine shifts around them—volcanic glow softening into the cooler hush of greenery, leaves whispering overhead, strange creatures rustling somewhere beyond the path—Flora scarcely notices any of it. Her gaze stays fixed on Kaisel instead, aqua eyes studying the sliver of copper she can see when he's looking forward, the shape of his mouth as he tests the words aloud, the dark fan of his eyelashes against the twilight. The rest of the world might as well be scenery painted behind him.
Even though a god has already witnessed their vows and a band already circles her wrist, the words still send a small shiver racing through her. Her arms tighten around him, hugging him closer, the sensation blooming warm and electric through her chest as if her heart hasn’t quite learned that the answer has already been given. When he pauses, beginning his dramatic announcement of the reply, Flora can’t help herself; the words burst from her at the exact same moment. "A THOUSAND TIMES YES!"
The echo of it leaves her laughing breathlessly, a delighted, impatient sound slipping out of her as she squeezes him tighter again, joy fizzing through her like something effervescent and unstoppable. So when he crouches, clearly intending to dump her into the grass, she only lifts a brow in suspicion before a snicker escapes her and she lets herself slide off him anyway, landing in the soft greenery in a tangle of limbs and laughter. Before he can fully straighten, she reaches up, catching hold of him and tugging him down with her.
The kiss she presses to his mouth is bright with righteous happiness rather than heat, the kind born from sheer overflowing affection, though even so, the nearness of him steals the breath from her lungs all the same. The words will you marry me keep echoing somewhere behind her ribs like a bell that refuses to stop ringing.
Eventually she lets him settle beside her so they can both look upward, shoulders brushing as the twilight sky stretches above them. "I wonder," she murmurs thoughtfully after a moment, voice soft with curiosity and mischief alike, "if Safrin will let it be in our own handwriting."
