mistaking cardiac arrest for butterflies
Flora's fingers pause as they trace the lines of text, her expression shifting subtly—a flicker of envy, perhaps, or regret—before settling back into a more neutral curiosity. "You couldn't have known," she murmurs gently, her voice carrying a hint of wistfulness. "And I mean, all things being equal...leaving it alone probably was the right thing to do. My nonna used to make all sorts of healing potions so if she'd stumbled upon it she could have used it to help others, rather than having it wilt on your shelf waiting for the day it might be needed."
She flips another page, more out of habit than need, her eyes not really on the words. "Makes you wonder what else is out there, hiding in plain sight or just beyond reach." The queen shifts in her seat, leaning back with a thoughtful look, the book resting in her lap. "If you did find one now, what would you do with it?" Was he the march right into Starfall, type? Or did he know someone who was infected?
She flips another page, more out of habit than need, her eyes not really on the words. "Makes you wonder what else is out there, hiding in plain sight or just beyond reach." The queen shifts in her seat, leaning back with a thoughtful look, the book resting in her lap. "If you did find one now, what would you do with it?" Was he the march right into Starfall, type? Or did he know someone who was infected?
