never be so kind you forget to be clever
Flora slips inside carefully, stepping lightly around planks and chairs stacked neatly to the side, her gaze flickering briefly around the interior with raised brows and the faint curve of a playful smile. "Gods, when you two go at it, you really go at it, huh?" she teases, but there's warmth beneath the amusement as she takes in the careful repairs—the fresh varnish, the new windows, the smell of wood polish in the air.
Her teasing falters for a moment as she turns fully toward Ronin, blinking rapidly as the lingering void distortions ripple and fade around him. For a heartbeat, his form shimmers oddly, purple mist threading softly through his hair, too many eyes momentarily blinking open along his neck and jaw before melting away again. Flora hides her discomfort quickly, though her fingers tighten slightly against her folded arms. She recovers swiftly, masking it all beneath a deliberately exaggerated once-over, taking in the paint-stained pants and shirt sleeves rolled in a way that screams domestication. "You're very 'retired demigod chic' today. It's a good look." Her grin softens then, affectionate and relieved, silently grateful that despite the afterimages, he’s still standing here—himself, whole, and blessedly normal underneath it all.
"And for the record," she adds, folding her arms and lifting her chin primly, "Yours is the only house I know that constantly moves around, so.." She wrinkles her nose, before checking that the wall behind her hadn't been covered in fresh paint before leaning against it. "But yeah—you're exactly who I wanted to see. Although don’t tell Dad I said that or he’ll sulk for days."
Her tone is teasing, but there's a flicker of seriousness in the aqua eyes that lift to meet Ronin’s. "Actually, I was wondering if you could help me with something kind of important." Flora pauses, a little hesitation creeping into her voice. "I have to move out of my place soon..temporarily, at least, and I thought... maybe it was time for me to have my own boat? You know, since everyone else in the family does?"
Her teasing falters for a moment as she turns fully toward Ronin, blinking rapidly as the lingering void distortions ripple and fade around him. For a heartbeat, his form shimmers oddly, purple mist threading softly through his hair, too many eyes momentarily blinking open along his neck and jaw before melting away again. Flora hides her discomfort quickly, though her fingers tighten slightly against her folded arms. She recovers swiftly, masking it all beneath a deliberately exaggerated once-over, taking in the paint-stained pants and shirt sleeves rolled in a way that screams domestication. "You're very 'retired demigod chic' today. It's a good look." Her grin softens then, affectionate and relieved, silently grateful that despite the afterimages, he’s still standing here—himself, whole, and blessedly normal underneath it all.
"And for the record," she adds, folding her arms and lifting her chin primly, "Yours is the only house I know that constantly moves around, so.." She wrinkles her nose, before checking that the wall behind her hadn't been covered in fresh paint before leaning against it. "But yeah—you're exactly who I wanted to see. Although don’t tell Dad I said that or he’ll sulk for days."
Her tone is teasing, but there's a flicker of seriousness in the aqua eyes that lift to meet Ronin’s. "Actually, I was wondering if you could help me with something kind of important." Flora pauses, a little hesitation creeping into her voice. "I have to move out of my place soon..temporarily, at least, and I thought... maybe it was time for me to have my own boat? You know, since everyone else in the family does?"
