lay your soul onto mine
"Nice to meet you, Elizabeth," Flora says, her grip firm and warm despite the chill. She gives the other woman a once-over—not in a rude way, just the casual, practiced glance of someone sizing up potential. "Honestly, you’re not interrupting. It’s more fun with company."
She tips her head toward the practice dummies with a smirk. "Besides, you said you’ve got telekinesis? I’d actually love to see how that compares. Maybe I’ll pick up a few tricks." It’s a genuine offer—one that holds no condescension, just curiosity and the easy confidence of someone who knows her way around a fight but still wants to learn.
With a sweep of her hand, she gestures toward the ring. "You want to take a turn? You can throw one of my daggers and I can work on recall." Her aqua eyes gleam with mischief, and there’s something undeniably encouraging in the way she adds, "Promise I won’t judge if you hit a dummy in the leg. That’s my special move."
She tips her head toward the practice dummies with a smirk. "Besides, you said you’ve got telekinesis? I’d actually love to see how that compares. Maybe I’ll pick up a few tricks." It’s a genuine offer—one that holds no condescension, just curiosity and the easy confidence of someone who knows her way around a fight but still wants to learn.
With a sweep of her hand, she gestures toward the ring. "You want to take a turn? You can throw one of my daggers and I can work on recall." Her aqua eyes gleam with mischief, and there’s something undeniably encouraging in the way she adds, "Promise I won’t judge if you hit a dummy in the leg. That’s my special move."
