flora
Flora's back presses firmly against the trunk, the damp moss beneath her fingers grounding her as she listens to Koa's responses—each one a small chip at the connection she thought they might be rebuilding. There's a palpable distance now, not just physically but emotionally, widening with his every word that skirts around her intentions, her hopes. She pulls her knees closer to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she rests her chin on her knees, her eyes focusing on the intricate patterns of moss and soil beneath her.
"If it was me, I'd still heal my family first," she says softly, her voice lower, the vibrant flair that usually dances through her words entirely dimmed now. Her fingers trace the texture of the tree bark, following lines that have weathered countless storms, wishing that it was more than just air between her fingers but knowing she deserved the distance Koa was putting between them.
She wipes a rogue tear that dares to escape, quick and discreet, as if brushing away an annoyance rather than a sign of vulnerability. "You keep looking then," she echoes his earlier words, her voice catching slightly. "And I'll... keep making plans."
She wants to say more—wants to say it was good to see him, wants to bridge the gap between what they were and what they've become. But the words would be a lie because she doubts if either of them are feeling good. So instead she swallows them down, swallows the pain that comes with them.
"Good luck, Koa," she finally manages, a polite formality that aches in its necessity and the ease with which his name leaves her lips.
Then, reaching into her pocket, she pulls out her compass, and before she can say or do anything stupid which might later implicate the dragoon in her plans, she vanishes.
~FIN
"If it was me, I'd still heal my family first," she says softly, her voice lower, the vibrant flair that usually dances through her words entirely dimmed now. Her fingers trace the texture of the tree bark, following lines that have weathered countless storms, wishing that it was more than just air between her fingers but knowing she deserved the distance Koa was putting between them.
She wipes a rogue tear that dares to escape, quick and discreet, as if brushing away an annoyance rather than a sign of vulnerability. "You keep looking then," she echoes his earlier words, her voice catching slightly. "And I'll... keep making plans."
She wants to say more—wants to say it was good to see him, wants to bridge the gap between what they were and what they've become. But the words would be a lie because she doubts if either of them are feeling good. So instead she swallows them down, swallows the pain that comes with them.
"Good luck, Koa," she finally manages, a polite formality that aches in its necessity and the ease with which his name leaves her lips.
Then, reaching into her pocket, she pulls out her compass, and before she can say or do anything stupid which might later implicate the dragoon in her plans, she vanishes.
~FIN
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22?
Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
