Flora
Flora’s aqua eyes widen as if his refusal to reveal his secrets is all the proof she needs. "Ah-ha!" She exclaims, snapping her fingers. "See? That’s exactly what a ghost would say." She points at him accusingly before crossing her arms, clearly pleased with this victory.
His question actually gives her pause, though, and for a moment, she tilts her head, considering. "Well, if you are a ghost, maybe that’d mean you’d stick around longer," she muses, twirling one of her curls absently between her fingers. "But if you’re not, then at least I don’t have to learn necromancy to keep you around, which would probably be way more effort than just, you know, getting you to like me enough to stick around on your own." Though, given their respective personalities, it'd be just as easy to think that learning necromancy would be easier than somehow managing a friendship.
The queen is about to say something else when he shifts to adjust his brace, and this time, her gaze catches properly on his face; the slight feverish flush to his cheeks, the faint lines of exhaustion pulling at his sharp features, the sheen glazing his eyes. At his offer of a drink, her brows draw together slightly, and instead of answering, she frowns. "I think the real question is: is there anything I can get you?" She gestures vaguely toward him, not wanting her concern to be taken for condescension. "Tea? Soup? A blanket? Someone to dramatically fan you while you lounge like a frail prince?"
She leans in slightly, lowering her voice to a mock-conspiratorial whisper. "Not saying it should be me, obviously. But maybe the ghosts who clean this place could lend a hand."
His question actually gives her pause, though, and for a moment, she tilts her head, considering. "Well, if you are a ghost, maybe that’d mean you’d stick around longer," she muses, twirling one of her curls absently between her fingers. "But if you’re not, then at least I don’t have to learn necromancy to keep you around, which would probably be way more effort than just, you know, getting you to like me enough to stick around on your own." Though, given their respective personalities, it'd be just as easy to think that learning necromancy would be easier than somehow managing a friendship.
The queen is about to say something else when he shifts to adjust his brace, and this time, her gaze catches properly on his face; the slight feverish flush to his cheeks, the faint lines of exhaustion pulling at his sharp features, the sheen glazing his eyes. At his offer of a drink, her brows draw together slightly, and instead of answering, she frowns. "I think the real question is: is there anything I can get you?" She gestures vaguely toward him, not wanting her concern to be taken for condescension. "Tea? Soup? A blanket? Someone to dramatically fan you while you lounge like a frail prince?"
She leans in slightly, lowering her voice to a mock-conspiratorial whisper. "Not saying it should be me, obviously. But maybe the ghosts who clean this place could lend a hand."
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
