we write out the ends on our palms, then forget to read
Flora snorts into her lemonade. "No?" she echoes, grinning. The ring on her finger wasn't necessarily warm—some of Soh's indecision was genuine—but the temperature suggested that there was more to it. Still, if the Luminary didn't want to go into detail, the queen could respect that. "Well, you know I'm here for you no matter what."
She plucks another tart from the tray and eyes Sohalia for a moment before taking a bite. "Also? Shockingly not awful. The tart, I mean. Might be laced with seaweed or lies, but I’d eat another."
As for the gossip? Flora flops back onto the blanket, one arm thrown dramatically over her eyes like a heroine in the throes of a swoon. "Jack and I had a fight in the Greatwood." Her voice is muffled slightly, but not enough to hide the tension laced behind the words. "We nearly broke up. Actually said the words. It was—" She lifts her arm enough to peek at Sohalia. "—I dunno, but I hated it. But then we, like, both promised not to. Break up, I mean."
A beat passes. Her eyes go skyward again. "And now I just… haven’t heard from him in days."
It’s casual. So casual it hurts.
She lets out a breath, hand fluttering in the air as if brushing it all aside. "He’s probably just off brooding somewhere or smuggling things or—I don’t know—doing whatever emotionally repressed smugglers do when they’re Not Talking About Their Feelings."
She plucks another tart from the tray and eyes Sohalia for a moment before taking a bite. "Also? Shockingly not awful. The tart, I mean. Might be laced with seaweed or lies, but I’d eat another."
As for the gossip? Flora flops back onto the blanket, one arm thrown dramatically over her eyes like a heroine in the throes of a swoon. "Jack and I had a fight in the Greatwood." Her voice is muffled slightly, but not enough to hide the tension laced behind the words. "We nearly broke up. Actually said the words. It was—" She lifts her arm enough to peek at Sohalia. "—I dunno, but I hated it. But then we, like, both promised not to. Break up, I mean."
A beat passes. Her eyes go skyward again. "And now I just… haven’t heard from him in days."
It’s casual. So casual it hurts.
She lets out a breath, hand fluttering in the air as if brushing it all aside. "He’s probably just off brooding somewhere or smuggling things or—I don’t know—doing whatever emotionally repressed smugglers do when they’re Not Talking About Their Feelings."
