marked me like a bloodstain
Flora settles into her seat by the fire, curling her legs beneath her as though she might make herself smaller, less vulnerable in the cozy glow of the House of Midnight. Her initial smile, summoned in response to Sunjata’s gentle concern, fades as the warmth around them sinks in, gradually peeling back the layers she’d carefully wrapped herself in to get through the day.
She nods softly at the suggestion of something warm, hands clasped loosely in her lap as she watches the flames lick steadily upwards, reflections flickering dimly in her aqua gaze. "Yeah, something warm sounds great," she murmurs quietly, the playful edge from earlier now replaced by something heavier—weariness, sorrow, a quiet hurt that lingers just beneath her carefully maintained surface.
The silence stretches gently for a moment, punctuated only by the distant murmur of voices from other corners of the House, and the soft crackle of the fire. Finally, Flora exhales, shoulders sagging beneath an invisible weight. "You probably heard my name on Vox’s broadcast," she begins softly, glancing up at Sunjata from beneath lowered lashes, as if worried about seeing judgement or disappointment reflected in his distorted, void-rippled features. "I… went to Stormbreak. Dahlia infected me, and I got a vial of her blood in exchange. Which was great for Torchline, but…"
Her voice trails off, catching slightly in her throat, and she gives her head a little shake, blond curls trembling slightly with the movement. "Jack didn’t exactly see it that way. He left." The words spill out raw and quiet, and Flora looks away quickly, staring resolutely into the fire as though its steady warmth might burn away the sharp ache in her chest. "So, things are kind of a mess right now."
She nods softly at the suggestion of something warm, hands clasped loosely in her lap as she watches the flames lick steadily upwards, reflections flickering dimly in her aqua gaze. "Yeah, something warm sounds great," she murmurs quietly, the playful edge from earlier now replaced by something heavier—weariness, sorrow, a quiet hurt that lingers just beneath her carefully maintained surface.
The silence stretches gently for a moment, punctuated only by the distant murmur of voices from other corners of the House, and the soft crackle of the fire. Finally, Flora exhales, shoulders sagging beneath an invisible weight. "You probably heard my name on Vox’s broadcast," she begins softly, glancing up at Sunjata from beneath lowered lashes, as if worried about seeing judgement or disappointment reflected in his distorted, void-rippled features. "I… went to Stormbreak. Dahlia infected me, and I got a vial of her blood in exchange. Which was great for Torchline, but…"
Her voice trails off, catching slightly in her throat, and she gives her head a little shake, blond curls trembling slightly with the movement. "Jack didn’t exactly see it that way. He left." The words spill out raw and quiet, and Flora looks away quickly, staring resolutely into the fire as though its steady warmth might burn away the sharp ache in her chest. "So, things are kind of a mess right now."
