is this the end of all the endings?
The sound of Kaisel’s voice in her mind has Flora melting back into him before she can help it. For as rumbly as his voice can be aloud, it has absolutely nothing on the way it sounds when it is purred directly into her thoughts, soft and close and all the more dangerous for not needing to cross the air between them. She gives one shoulder a coy little shrug, her smile curving against his mouth as she lets the answer drift back through their bond. Well, they’re onboard the Sugartide somewhere, if you want to help me look for them. The invitation comes draped in enough suggestion that neither of them ought to pretend the cards would be the sole object of their search.
Humming as their kiss finally breaks, Flora lingers close enough that her breath still mingles with his before smiling down at him. "Come on," she says, warm with encouragement that is almost certainly not deserved. "I believe in you."
The sound of his grunt has her narrowing her eyes at once, head canting sharply in a look that would have earned a collective gasp from an audience had this been filmed on a soundstage. For a heartbeat, Flora simply stares down at him, brows raised as though he has stepped directly onto a very obvious trapdoor. Then, magnanimous as ever, she decides not to crucify her husband for the sound of exertion involved in lifting her off him, merely rolling her eyes with an affection that does nothing to hide the fact that she has noticed.
"City boy," she mutters under her breath, finally curling her fingers around his and tugging in earnest to pull him upright. The leaf stays caught between two fingers of her other hand, though she gives it a final little twirl as though it might yet testify on her behalf. "I bet you’ve never even gone camping."
Humming as their kiss finally breaks, Flora lingers close enough that her breath still mingles with his before smiling down at him. "Come on," she says, warm with encouragement that is almost certainly not deserved. "I believe in you."
The sound of his grunt has her narrowing her eyes at once, head canting sharply in a look that would have earned a collective gasp from an audience had this been filmed on a soundstage. For a heartbeat, Flora simply stares down at him, brows raised as though he has stepped directly onto a very obvious trapdoor. Then, magnanimous as ever, she decides not to crucify her husband for the sound of exertion involved in lifting her off him, merely rolling her eyes with an affection that does nothing to hide the fact that she has noticed.
"City boy," she mutters under her breath, finally curling her fingers around his and tugging in earnest to pull him upright. The leaf stays caught between two fingers of her other hand, though she gives it a final little twirl as though it might yet testify on her behalf. "I bet you’ve never even gone camping."
my broken bones are mending
