your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand
Flora leans in as the crate creaks open, catching the vivid flash of crimson and gold within—and despite herself, her breath hitches. "Gods," she murmurs, almost reverently, as the glimmering petals and gilded thorns come into view. The sight is enough to quiet the buzz in her chest, if only for a moment. Real, unmistakable, and humming with something that feels almost sacred.
When the lid closes again, Flora straightens slowly, and for the first time in days, a genuine smile tugs at her lips. It’s small, but it’s real.
"I guess I owe you an apartment," she says, her tone lighter now, letting the words fall with a familiar lilt. That was the deal after all; Maea could move to Torchline if she brought a flower, and here she was. The queen shrugs, one shoulder rising in an easy, almost graceful roll as she glances toward Liam before returning her gaze to Maea. "I mean...I never said you couldn't come and go? You said that. I only said you needed a flower to live here," Flora clarifies.
When the lid closes again, Flora straightens slowly, and for the first time in days, a genuine smile tugs at her lips. It’s small, but it’s real.
"I guess I owe you an apartment," she says, her tone lighter now, letting the words fall with a familiar lilt. That was the deal after all; Maea could move to Torchline if she brought a flower, and here she was. The queen shrugs, one shoulder rising in an easy, almost graceful roll as she glances toward Liam before returning her gaze to Maea. "I mean...I never said you couldn't come and go? You said that. I only said you needed a flower to live here," Flora clarifies.
