Darling, you're the one I want
Her teeth leave his arm, but her gaze doesn’t, Flora’s eyes lifting to meet his over the line of his bicep, her pupils gone a shade darker, something sharper and more intent slipping into their bright blue as his hand comes up to cradle the back of her neck. The touch sends a quiet, electric heat down through her, pooling low and warm, her breath catching just slightly as his thumb presses against her skin. The ring at her finger gives the faintest pulse, subtle as a heartbeat, and when she finally leans back it’s slow, deliberate, her voice dropping to match his. "Who’s there to ban us?" she murmurs, the question edged with a knowing sort of mischief that suggests she wouldn’t mind finding out.
The moment folds neatly back into something softer as he settles against her, and she lets it, curling easily around him as though this is their natural resting shape, her fingers drifting up into his hair with absent affection. His comment about Mel earns an immediate, undignified snort, her nose scrunching as she tilts her head. "She is not that bad," she insists, though the protest lacks conviction, amusement tugging too obviously at the corners of her mouth.
The idea of party skyships brightens her outright, her grin turning wide and conspiratorial as she nods. "Okay, that’s actually perfect," she says, already picturing it, the ridiculousness of fireworks and music and all of them packed together in the sky feeling exactly right. "Everyone could meet in Torchline and leave from there, too, so the out-of-towners can keep their things at my place." The thought settles comfortably into place, practical wrapped in spectacle, and she starts to lean in slightly, something else clearly forming on her tongue. "Hey, speaking of—"
The Qilin and Kai's shift has her cutting herself off, and she stills as he begins to move, the careful, deliberate crawl enough to quiet even her breathing. Flora leans forward just slightly, holding herself in place as though any sudden motion might fracture the fragile, glowing stillness that’s settled over the moment. The qilin stands there, luminous and impossibly composed, and for a second she forgets everything else entirely. The click of the camera has the qilin blinking, slow and knowing, and then—like something dissolving into a dream—it turns and melts back into the shadows.
Flora exhales the breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding, the sound soft and almost reverent before she lowers herself onto her stomach and crawls forward after him, mirroring his earlier movement until she’s at his side. "How’d it turn out?" she asks, voice still hushed from the moment. "Lemme see."
The moment folds neatly back into something softer as he settles against her, and she lets it, curling easily around him as though this is their natural resting shape, her fingers drifting up into his hair with absent affection. His comment about Mel earns an immediate, undignified snort, her nose scrunching as she tilts her head. "She is not that bad," she insists, though the protest lacks conviction, amusement tugging too obviously at the corners of her mouth.
The idea of party skyships brightens her outright, her grin turning wide and conspiratorial as she nods. "Okay, that’s actually perfect," she says, already picturing it, the ridiculousness of fireworks and music and all of them packed together in the sky feeling exactly right. "Everyone could meet in Torchline and leave from there, too, so the out-of-towners can keep their things at my place." The thought settles comfortably into place, practical wrapped in spectacle, and she starts to lean in slightly, something else clearly forming on her tongue. "Hey, speaking of—"
The Qilin and Kai's shift has her cutting herself off, and she stills as he begins to move, the careful, deliberate crawl enough to quiet even her breathing. Flora leans forward just slightly, holding herself in place as though any sudden motion might fracture the fragile, glowing stillness that’s settled over the moment. The qilin stands there, luminous and impossibly composed, and for a second she forgets everything else entirely. The click of the camera has the qilin blinking, slow and knowing, and then—like something dissolving into a dream—it turns and melts back into the shadows.
Flora exhales the breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding, the sound soft and almost reverent before she lowers herself onto her stomach and crawls forward after him, mirroring his earlier movement until she’s at his side. "How’d it turn out?" she asks, voice still hushed from the moment. "Lemme see."
in paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams
