Flora
Flora meets his menacing look with the lofty stillness of a villain who has absolutely been caught before the monologue was ready and refuses to let that matter. He has somehow managed to turn her own trap around on her, which is rude, inconvenient, and not a little impressive, though she has no intention of letting any of that show. Her chin lifts haughtily, the curve of her mouth sharpening with a promise she hasn’t yet bothered to define. "Oh, I’ll see to it that your needs are met." It lands like a threat rather than a reassurance, which is really the important part. Whether she knows yet what form the threat will take is beside the point; paying lip service to being menacing is more than enough for now.
His reaction to the glowstones catches her genuinely off guard for a moment, surprise opening across her face before she realizes he’s being sarcastic. Then her eyes roll hard enough to make up for the brief betrayal. "What about the way I grew up makes you think we spent our time doing arts and crafts with stones?" Sure, on the surface it sounds perfectly plausible that a little girl and her brothers might have made glowing pictures out of rocks in the magical woods, but that only holds up if someone ignores the building war around them and the few neglectful demigods they had for parents.
She gives him no ground at all, one brow rising as she echoes him with deliberate slowness. "Glow. Stone. Painting." Her gaze drops toward the stones, then returns to him with pointed scepticism. "Which involves literally no painting at all, based on what you just said." The arch of her brow deepens, smug and unrepentant. "Sounds more like glowstone arranging if you ask me."
Still, the argument doesn’t stop her from continuing with the tent. Flora stretches her section of the pole out so it can eventually cross over the canvas, but there’s nothing innocent about the way she does it, her hands guiding the length forward with obvious, unhurried suggestion. She pretends not to notice the colour rising to Kaisel's ears or the answering heat slipping through the bond, just as she’d once pretended not to notice all the ways she could fluster him before they were anything so official as married. Her eyes drag slowly down the length of his body, lingering with enough intent to make the inspection feel like a hand, before sliding wryly back to his face. "It’s not that one about eating yellow snow again, is it?"
His reaction to the glowstones catches her genuinely off guard for a moment, surprise opening across her face before she realizes he’s being sarcastic. Then her eyes roll hard enough to make up for the brief betrayal. "What about the way I grew up makes you think we spent our time doing arts and crafts with stones?" Sure, on the surface it sounds perfectly plausible that a little girl and her brothers might have made glowing pictures out of rocks in the magical woods, but that only holds up if someone ignores the building war around them and the few neglectful demigods they had for parents.
She gives him no ground at all, one brow rising as she echoes him with deliberate slowness. "Glow. Stone. Painting." Her gaze drops toward the stones, then returns to him with pointed scepticism. "Which involves literally no painting at all, based on what you just said." The arch of her brow deepens, smug and unrepentant. "Sounds more like glowstone arranging if you ask me."
Still, the argument doesn’t stop her from continuing with the tent. Flora stretches her section of the pole out so it can eventually cross over the canvas, but there’s nothing innocent about the way she does it, her hands guiding the length forward with obvious, unhurried suggestion. She pretends not to notice the colour rising to Kaisel's ears or the answering heat slipping through the bond, just as she’d once pretended not to notice all the ways she could fluster him before they were anything so official as married. Her eyes drag slowly down the length of his body, lingering with enough intent to make the inspection feel like a hand, before sliding wryly back to his face. "It’s not that one about eating yellow snow again, is it?"
Fatefully, I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep
Code stolen from Queen Sky
