you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody
Flora huffs softly, tipping her head in faux exasperation. "I mean, I could do nice things for free, but..." She smirks, running her fingers through her bangs. "Besides, it’s a good trade—you get to stay conscious, and I get fabulous hair. Everyone wins."
Her tone is light, teasing, but as Niki speaks, the warmth in her expression shifts, softens, settling into something more introspective. She leans forward slightly, elbows resting on her knees, hands curled loosely around the steaming mug between them. "Yeah," she murmurs, exhaling slowly, the words slipping out like they’d been sitting on her tongue, waiting. "I did." Her brow furrows slightly, lips pressing together, as if only now fully acknowledging how unfair she'd been to Seren, even if only in her own mind. The version she'd created of her sister had been something perfect, untouchable, a gilded ideal she could never compete with. But the real Seren? She'd just been... a girl.
Flora’s fingers tighten briefly around the mug, but then she forces herself to relax, forces a small, rueful smile as she glances up at Niki. "Maybe," she allows, voice quiet but not without a thread of hope. "That’s the thing, though, isn’t it?" Her smile twists into something wry and she tilts her head, studying the necromancer with sharp, thoughtful curiosity. "You’d know better than most." Reaching for her tea, she takes a sip. "Have you ever had anyone just...wake up and walk off when you've been working on them before?"
Her tone is light, teasing, but as Niki speaks, the warmth in her expression shifts, softens, settling into something more introspective. She leans forward slightly, elbows resting on her knees, hands curled loosely around the steaming mug between them. "Yeah," she murmurs, exhaling slowly, the words slipping out like they’d been sitting on her tongue, waiting. "I did." Her brow furrows slightly, lips pressing together, as if only now fully acknowledging how unfair she'd been to Seren, even if only in her own mind. The version she'd created of her sister had been something perfect, untouchable, a gilded ideal she could never compete with. But the real Seren? She'd just been... a girl.
Flora’s fingers tighten briefly around the mug, but then she forces herself to relax, forces a small, rueful smile as she glances up at Niki. "Maybe," she allows, voice quiet but not without a thread of hope. "That’s the thing, though, isn’t it?" Her smile twists into something wry and she tilts her head, studying the necromancer with sharp, thoughtful curiosity. "You’d know better than most." Reaching for her tea, she takes a sip. "Have you ever had anyone just...wake up and walk off when you've been working on them before?"
