a lot of people will look at you
Aria
When Flora slipped the ring back on, his gaze followed the movement—a small, habitual thing—but he noticed the way the gold caught the light, the ease of it. Not a trinket, he thought. Not just jewelry. Every piece she wore probably did something, or meant something. That quiet realization settled in the back of his mind. She played casual well—no crown, no pomp, no entourage—but he suspected there was a whole arsenal hiding behind those bracelets and smiles.
Her joke about Torchline pulled the smallest smirk from him, the corner of his mouth curling like the start of something human again. “You sure about that?” he asked, brow arching. His tone was skeptical, but his eyes were lighter now.
When she laughed, he did too and then looked down at the cub in his arms.
“It’s alright,” he said, adjusting his hold on Aria. “I tried to warn her, but she seems to think every stranger’s just a new friend.” He glanced down at the cub, giving her a small squeeze that earned him a quiet chirp. “Maybe next time,” he added, tone dry but fond, “you’ll trust my judgment, hm?”
Aria blinked up at him, clearly unbothered by his scolding. Her paw batted at his chin, and he huffed through his nose. But when he set her down, she stayed close this time—the tips of her fur brushing against his leg. Every few steps, she'd glance up at him, just to make sure he was still there.
Damien rubbed a hand down his jaw, then, before leaving, looked to Flora with a faint grin. “Well,” he said, straightening and rolling his shoulders. “Know any good places to eat nearby? I think Aria's earned herself the biggest fish in Torchline.” His gaze flicked to the little dragon on her shoulder. “You too, Spice, if you’re partial to seafood.”
He started toward the street, Aria padding close behind. The wind carried them down the alley, along with the faint sound of a cub’s happy chirr as they disappeared back into the hum of Haulani life.
fin
Damien
but only a few will see you
