mistaking cardiac arrest for butterflies
Flora pauses mid-rise, caught between standing and staying as Liam’s words soften the tension she hadn’t quite realized she was holding. Her fingers linger on the edge of the table for a breath longer, nails tapping once against the wood before she eases back down into her seat. "Well, if you insist," she murmurs, the corners of her mouth tugging upward in something gentler—less polished, more real. Her gaze flicks to the book he offers, and after a beat, she reaches out to take it.
She flips to the page in question, scanning the entry with a furrow between her brows. "You ever actually seen one of the real ones? Vi’s roses?" Flora glances up again, her voice quieter now, curious despite herself. "Everyone talks about them like they’re myths, and yet apparently when the Blight took over everything, they were everywhere." Flora hadn't been alive for that despite the fact that she looked like she should have been, though she'd heard about it often enough from her parents.
She flips to the page in question, scanning the entry with a furrow between her brows. "You ever actually seen one of the real ones? Vi’s roses?" Flora glances up again, her voice quieter now, curious despite herself. "Everyone talks about them like they’re myths, and yet apparently when the Blight took over everything, they were everywhere." Flora hadn't been alive for that despite the fact that she looked like she should have been, though she'd heard about it often enough from her parents.
