Flora
Flora grins at Kaisel, entirely delighted to have found her match in a man who will apparently die on any hill placed in front of him, no matter how large, small, stupid, or squid-related. Plenty of men would have backed down by now out of annoyance or fear or basic good sense, but Kaisel only plants himself more firmly in the argument, arms crossed and expression arranged into the noble suffering of someone defending art from an ignorant public. "For one," Flora begins, lifting a brow as her gaze slides pointedly toward their glowstone-ringed arrangement of sticks, "I don’t see any fire." Her eyes flick back to him, bright with challenge. "And two, I think you sang the song at me, not around the campfire."
His mouth keeps trying not to smile, which only makes hers worse, and with a bright laugh Flora closes the distance between them. Her arms slip around his neck with no ceremony at all, and she leans into him with the pleased confidence of someone who has absolutely won despite the fact that neither of them has agreed on the rules. "You’re catchy and silly." She leaves out educational on purpose, the omission sharp and obvious enough to be its own little prod, because if he wants full credit, he’ll have to earn it with something better than one verse about a nervous squid.
"Well, no," she adds, tilting her head as she looks up at him. "But I thought you’d at least sing about, you know, the outdoors. Or marshmallows. Or sleeping under the stars. Or things vaguely camping related." Her grin turns crooked. "Not a boneless sea creature having a panic response."
His mouth keeps trying not to smile, which only makes hers worse, and with a bright laugh Flora closes the distance between them. Her arms slip around his neck with no ceremony at all, and she leans into him with the pleased confidence of someone who has absolutely won despite the fact that neither of them has agreed on the rules. "You’re catchy and silly." She leaves out educational on purpose, the omission sharp and obvious enough to be its own little prod, because if he wants full credit, he’ll have to earn it with something better than one verse about a nervous squid.
"Well, no," she adds, tilting her head as she looks up at him. "But I thought you’d at least sing about, you know, the outdoors. Or marshmallows. Or sleeping under the stars. Or things vaguely camping related." Her grin turns crooked. "Not a boneless sea creature having a panic response."
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
