I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings
Raising her eyebrows so high they nearly vanish beneath the fluffy white brim of her hat, Flora gives Kaisel a wildly skeptical look. She’s bundled up in something aggressively cute and only slightly impractical, all pale pink wool and white fur trim, with a belted coat cinched tight around her waist, mittens tucked over gold-ringed fingers, and a scarf wrapped high enough that every huffed word threatens to fog back against her own cheeks. Her blonde curls are mostly hidden beneath her hat, though a few stubborn spirals have escaped to glitter with snowflakes near her temples.
"Okay, first of all," she says, drawing the words out with the bright, patient venom of someone who has absolutely not been convinced by the phrase horse and boat have loads in common, "it’s nothing like water skiing because the ocean doesn’t have bumps and twists and little snow hills designed to launch people into their own funerals, and second of all, neither of us can ride a horse." This, she thinks, should be the end of it. A neat little bow on common sense, tied up in pink ribbon and handed directly to her idiot husband like a gift from someone who cares very much about keeping all of his limbs attached in their current configuration. Unfortunately, she can already feel the shape of Kaisel’s enthusiasm beside her like a spark trying to catch in dry palm fronds, and because she loves him, tragically and stupidly and with her whole snow-damp, frost-nipped heart, Flora doesn’t immediately abandon him to the nearest luxere and let natural consequences handle the rest.
Instead, she tightens her arm through his and starts tugging him bodily through the festival crowd, her boots crunching over the packed snow as the scent of cocoa, whisky, cinnamon, and candied almonds curls around them like Halo is trying to bribe her into forgetting that this entire region is basically a freezer with infrastructure. The circular track gleams in her peripheral vision, all safety rails and rings and cheerful little death jumps, and though she absolutely does not let her gaze linger too long on the skiers being pulled along by horses and luxere, the quick flash of movement is enough to have her fingers flexing against Kaisel’s sleeve as if she might physically restrain him from being an absolute menace with only the power of her manicure and love.
Spotting Iskra and Melita near one of the vendors is enough to make Flora brighten like someone has just tossed her a lifeline. Her smile goes dazzling before she’s even reached them, though the effect is somewhat undercut by the way she arrives with Kaisel still hooked through her arm like evidence at trial. "Hey guys." Flora’s grin turns sharp at the corners as she angles herself toward them, cheeks pink from the cold and from whatever amount of pure disbelief Kaisel has managed to inspire in the last five minutes. "Can one of you please tell my idiothusfiancé that skiing is not the same as water skiing?"
Flora drags Kai over to Iskra/Mel!
"Okay, first of all," she says, drawing the words out with the bright, patient venom of someone who has absolutely not been convinced by the phrase horse and boat have loads in common, "it’s nothing like water skiing because the ocean doesn’t have bumps and twists and little snow hills designed to launch people into their own funerals, and second of all, neither of us can ride a horse." This, she thinks, should be the end of it. A neat little bow on common sense, tied up in pink ribbon and handed directly to her idiot husband like a gift from someone who cares very much about keeping all of his limbs attached in their current configuration. Unfortunately, she can already feel the shape of Kaisel’s enthusiasm beside her like a spark trying to catch in dry palm fronds, and because she loves him, tragically and stupidly and with her whole snow-damp, frost-nipped heart, Flora doesn’t immediately abandon him to the nearest luxere and let natural consequences handle the rest.
Instead, she tightens her arm through his and starts tugging him bodily through the festival crowd, her boots crunching over the packed snow as the scent of cocoa, whisky, cinnamon, and candied almonds curls around them like Halo is trying to bribe her into forgetting that this entire region is basically a freezer with infrastructure. The circular track gleams in her peripheral vision, all safety rails and rings and cheerful little death jumps, and though she absolutely does not let her gaze linger too long on the skiers being pulled along by horses and luxere, the quick flash of movement is enough to have her fingers flexing against Kaisel’s sleeve as if she might physically restrain him from being an absolute menace with only the power of her manicure and love.
Spotting Iskra and Melita near one of the vendors is enough to make Flora brighten like someone has just tossed her a lifeline. Her smile goes dazzling before she’s even reached them, though the effect is somewhat undercut by the way she arrives with Kaisel still hooked through her arm like evidence at trial. "Hey guys." Flora’s grin turns sharp at the corners as she angles herself toward them, cheeks pink from the cold and from whatever amount of pure disbelief Kaisel has managed to inspire in the last five minutes. "Can one of you please tell my idiot
Flora drags Kai over to Iskra/Mel!
and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this
