you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody
Flora sits perched atop one of the gnarled roots framing the entrance to the Undercroft, a cozy shawl wrapped snugly around her shoulders to fend off the damp, lingering chill of Flowerbirth. Her shoes have been abandoned in favour of bare feet, idly swinging in slow, thoughtful arcs as she watches the steam from the two cups of tea curl lazily upward. She sighs softly, her breath visible in delicate curls, blending seamlessly with the hazy mist rising from deeper within the ancient library.
Having sent a letter asking Niki if he'd like to meet her, it occurred to her that perhaps she should have met him at his home, just in case the Greatwood tried to be tricksy with its pathways again. Glancing down into the warmly lit entryway, taking in the way the shadows play against old shelves filled with books, scrolls, and secrets she never cared to explore as child, the queen smiles softly to herself, tugging her shawl a little tighter and setting the second steaming cup beside her own, the rich scent of spice and cinnamon drifting lazily upward.
Having sent a letter asking Niki if he'd like to meet her, it occurred to her that perhaps she should have met him at his home, just in case the Greatwood tried to be tricksy with its pathways again. Glancing down into the warmly lit entryway, taking in the way the shadows play against old shelves filled with books, scrolls, and secrets she never cared to explore as child, the queen smiles softly to herself, tugging her shawl a little tighter and setting the second steaming cup beside her own, the rich scent of spice and cinnamon drifting lazily upward.
