Flora
"Which, if she'd stayed where she was told instead of following you like some school girl with a crush, she'd never have even known about." Flora adds, rolling her eyes so hard it's a miracle they don't fall right out of her skull. Standing onto her toes and clinging to his arm as if to ensure she didn't miss a single word, what she imagines will be something amusing turns out to be one of the most heinous things he's said yet.
"What?!" There was something particularly vile about suggesting that kind of punishment—as if weaponizing Asta's past against him—only for her to end up taking advantage of the butcher's situation and beating the shit out of him instead, from what Flora remembered. "That's got to be one of the the most fucked up things I've ever heard of."
Falling back to her heels and settling her arm comfortably against Asta's once more, the queen shakes her head. "You know, for someone who hates everything about you apparently, she sure does spend a lot of time thinking about you," Flora muses, her tone mock-thoughtful as she begins walking forward. "Like, there was literally no need for her to mention a damn thing about it me." Then, because she can’t help herself, she leans in once more, matching the btucher's earlier conspiratorial tone. "Gods, Asta, do you think she has a crush on you?" She grins wickedly, clearly entertained by the idea—because really, what other explanation could there be for her being so absolutely insufferable and yet constantly on the butcher's ass?
"What?!" There was something particularly vile about suggesting that kind of punishment—as if weaponizing Asta's past against him—only for her to end up taking advantage of the butcher's situation and beating the shit out of him instead, from what Flora remembered. "That's got to be one of the the most fucked up things I've ever heard of."
Falling back to her heels and settling her arm comfortably against Asta's once more, the queen shakes her head. "You know, for someone who hates everything about you apparently, she sure does spend a lot of time thinking about you," Flora muses, her tone mock-thoughtful as she begins walking forward. "Like, there was literally no need for her to mention a damn thing about it me." Then, because she can’t help herself, she leans in once more, matching the btucher's earlier conspiratorial tone. "Gods, Asta, do you think she has a crush on you?" She grins wickedly, clearly entertained by the idea—because really, what other explanation could there be for her being so absolutely insufferable and yet constantly on the butcher's ass?
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
