Flora
Flora keeps quiet, her usual bright, animated expressions dimming into something quieter, steadier, as Asta speaks. The way he tells it—so matter-of-fact, so resigned—it sits uneasily in her chest, but she doesn’t interrupt. She just listens, watches the way his shoulders hold tension like he’s bracing for something, watches the way his gaze flickers when he talks about what was done to him, what he became, what he lost.
She exhales slowly, rolling her lips together, wishing she could just climb up him like a tree and wrap her arms around him.
"Well," she says finally, her voice lighter than the conversation warrants, but gentle, not dismissive. "At the very least, Maea being a self-righteous pain in the ass is a timeless truth, so there's that."
Flora glances up at him, searching Asta's face, before nudging him lightly with her elbow—not just playful, but grounding, a way to pull him back from whatever old ghosts still have their claws in him. "Asta," she murmurs, quieter now, something more thoughtful beneath the usual teasing cadence of her voice. She wants to tell him that she's sorry it all happened to him, but gods even just thinking the words feels woefully lacking; wants to tell him that he didn't deserve a damned thing that had happened to him, but surely he knew even if he might not always believe it. "I really like who you are now," she says simply, watching him carefully, giving him space to react or deflect however he needs to. "And honestly?" She tilts her head. "If Dygra saved you, then it isn't for Maea or anyone else to judge you about the things you do. Not when they have no idea what it's like to go through what you did and come out the other side."
She lets the words settle, gives him a moment to breathe, before sighing, her gaze flicking back toward the path ahead. "But, seriously," she huffs, rolling her shoulders, "—fuck Maea. Imagine if she put as much effort into not being a huge bitch as she does being a pain in everyone's ass." There was no reason for the ancient to have said a damn thing about cannibalism other than to try and stir shit up.
She exhales slowly, rolling her lips together, wishing she could just climb up him like a tree and wrap her arms around him.
"Well," she says finally, her voice lighter than the conversation warrants, but gentle, not dismissive. "At the very least, Maea being a self-righteous pain in the ass is a timeless truth, so there's that."
Flora glances up at him, searching Asta's face, before nudging him lightly with her elbow—not just playful, but grounding, a way to pull him back from whatever old ghosts still have their claws in him. "Asta," she murmurs, quieter now, something more thoughtful beneath the usual teasing cadence of her voice. She wants to tell him that she's sorry it all happened to him, but gods even just thinking the words feels woefully lacking; wants to tell him that he didn't deserve a damned thing that had happened to him, but surely he knew even if he might not always believe it. "I really like who you are now," she says simply, watching him carefully, giving him space to react or deflect however he needs to. "And honestly?" She tilts her head. "If Dygra saved you, then it isn't for Maea or anyone else to judge you about the things you do. Not when they have no idea what it's like to go through what you did and come out the other side."
She lets the words settle, gives him a moment to breathe, before sighing, her gaze flicking back toward the path ahead. "But, seriously," she huffs, rolling her shoulders, "—fuck Maea. Imagine if she put as much effort into not being a huge bitch as she does being a pain in everyone's ass." There was no reason for the ancient to have said a damn thing about cannibalism other than to try and stir shit up.
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
