this is why we can't have nice things, honey
A day not so far in the future, her mother's words would ring in her ears loud enough to temporarily blot out the enormity of what she was feeling. It would make the hurt of now feel insignificant and laughable in comparison, only she won't run to Hotaru then. Instead, she coils in on herself, the pain too raw, too real to be anything other than felt in isolation.
For the moment, though, with the mostly self-inflicted wounds of what she thought she was to Asta and he to her still feeling like the worst thing that could have happened, Flora can only sniff softly in response to her mother's questions. How much pain, she wanted to demand; for how long? And if she accepted it, if she opened herself up every time, could the Valkyire promise that at the end of it, she'd have her happy ending?
Naive and small as she was, even Flora knew that her questions had no answers, and so rather than voicing them, she simply reaches a hand over her shoulder, clutching at the spill of her mother's hair and arching herself back against her.
~FIN
For the moment, though, with the mostly self-inflicted wounds of what she thought she was to Asta and he to her still feeling like the worst thing that could have happened, Flora can only sniff softly in response to her mother's questions. How much pain, she wanted to demand; for how long? And if she accepted it, if she opened herself up every time, could the Valkyire promise that at the end of it, she'd have her happy ending?
Naive and small as she was, even Flora knew that her questions had no answers, and so rather than voicing them, she simply reaches a hand over her shoulder, clutching at the spill of her mother's hair and arching herself back against her.
~FIN
