Flora
"Oh definitely," Flora chirps, delighted by his lack of protest. "But hey, you’ve survived worse. Like parenting me, for example." Her grin is all teeth, her tone light as they race the tide.
She doesn't miss the way his projection appears, already splashing through the surf like some overachieving training dummy with good hair. With a flick of her fingers, a feather dagger slips into her palm, the metal warm from its perch against her thigh. Flora's throw is clean and fast, slicing through the air with a familiar hum. It whistles past the projection’s shoulder by a hair, and Flora snaps back her wrist to recall it. The blade reverses course in a blink, tugged back toward her waiting hand.
Except this time, instead of letting it fly clean and keeping her hand still, she angles her fingers low with a twist of intent. The dagger arcs as it returns, veering to the side, but still missing the projection.
"Damn it," she breathes, already reaching for a second feather.
She doesn't miss the way his projection appears, already splashing through the surf like some overachieving training dummy with good hair. With a flick of her fingers, a feather dagger slips into her palm, the metal warm from its perch against her thigh. Flora's throw is clean and fast, slicing through the air with a familiar hum. It whistles past the projection’s shoulder by a hair, and Flora snaps back her wrist to recall it. The blade reverses course in a blink, tugged back toward her waiting hand.
Except this time, instead of letting it fly clean and keeping her hand still, she angles her fingers low with a twist of intent. The dagger arcs as it returns, veering to the side, but still missing the projection.
"Damn it," she breathes, already reaching for a second feather.
I trace the evidence, make it make some sense
why the wound is still bleedin'
why the wound is still bleedin'
Code stolen from Queen Sky
