flora
Flora’s fingers tighten subtly around the edge of the bar, her expression smoothing back into something cool, composed—too composed for someone who had just been hit with the revelation that her father had been infected. But there’s a flicker of defiance beneath her bright blue gaze, something steady and unshaken, despite the tension curling in her chest.
"When I talked to Dahlia," she begins smoothly, pointedly, "it went perfectly fine." Her aqua eyes flick toward Sunjata, then Hadama, her brows arching slightly. "So maybe it’s about approach. You were trying to trick her by getting her into the Refuge, whereas when I asked to meet with her it was literally just to talk."
She leans forward, resting her elbows on the polished wood of the bar, her expression unreadable as she turns her gaze back to Deimos. "And...I mean, we all know what Safrin's like. The other gods definitely don't seem as bothered by the Family's presence as she does." Maybe Safrin was just being territorial; it certainly wouldn't be the first time. "You came from another land, right?" Flora tilts her head, studying Deimos carefully. And at first, you weren’t favored by the gods here either." He hadn't come with a plan to take over, no, but if anything it only underscored her point that sometimes what the gods did or didn't approve of wasn't a good basis for judgement.
She lets the words settle, watching as the implications sink in. She wasn’t saying the Family were good, or that they hadn’t done terrible things, but what if all of this fighting was just inevitable? What if the gods weren’t protecting them from the Family—what if they were protecting themselves?
Flora exhales slowly, shifting back, rolling her shoulders as if physically shaking off the weight of what she’d just said. "Look, I’m not saying we stop fighting. But if we take stock of how things have actually gone? It’s not great. We’ve had more deaths, more stolen artifacts, more losses than actual wins." Her gaze sweeps the room, steady, serious. "And since we aren't all immortal like you three, I'm just saying maybe it's worth trying to lay the grounds for a plan b."
"When I talked to Dahlia," she begins smoothly, pointedly, "it went perfectly fine." Her aqua eyes flick toward Sunjata, then Hadama, her brows arching slightly. "So maybe it’s about approach. You were trying to trick her by getting her into the Refuge, whereas when I asked to meet with her it was literally just to talk."
She leans forward, resting her elbows on the polished wood of the bar, her expression unreadable as she turns her gaze back to Deimos. "And...I mean, we all know what Safrin's like. The other gods definitely don't seem as bothered by the Family's presence as she does." Maybe Safrin was just being territorial; it certainly wouldn't be the first time. "You came from another land, right?" Flora tilts her head, studying Deimos carefully. And at first, you weren’t favored by the gods here either." He hadn't come with a plan to take over, no, but if anything it only underscored her point that sometimes what the gods did or didn't approve of wasn't a good basis for judgement.
She lets the words settle, watching as the implications sink in. She wasn’t saying the Family were good, or that they hadn’t done terrible things, but what if all of this fighting was just inevitable? What if the gods weren’t protecting them from the Family—what if they were protecting themselves?
Flora exhales slowly, shifting back, rolling her shoulders as if physically shaking off the weight of what she’d just said. "Look, I’m not saying we stop fighting. But if we take stock of how things have actually gone? It’s not great. We’ve had more deaths, more stolen artifacts, more losses than actual wins." Her gaze sweeps the room, steady, serious. "And since we aren't all immortal like you three, I'm just saying maybe it's worth trying to lay the grounds for a plan b."
Flexing like a goddamn acrobat
Me and karma vibe like that
Me and karma vibe like that
