Flora
"Mm, how generous," Flora drawls, though her focus sharpens the moment she clocks where the projection’s headed. Her smile twitches, just slightly—fond and fleeting at the sight of the fountain—before narrowing into something more precise.
This time she doesn’t throw immediately. She adjusts her pace to match the projection’s arc, keeping it in her peripheral until the moment is right—until the wind shifts just enough to brush the sweat from her temple, until the distance closes by a crucial foot and a half. Then she throws. The dagger flashes in a tight, efficient spin, and this time she calls it back early, banking on the angle and the arc to carry it into the projection’s side. It’s a risk. The kind she shouldn’t take; the kind she always does.
Whether it hits or not, she’ll still jog to catch up, steps slowing as the fountain looms. "Sooooo?" she pants, flushed and breathless. "Did I kill him or just give him a cool scar?"
This time she doesn’t throw immediately. She adjusts her pace to match the projection’s arc, keeping it in her peripheral until the moment is right—until the wind shifts just enough to brush the sweat from her temple, until the distance closes by a crucial foot and a half. Then she throws. The dagger flashes in a tight, efficient spin, and this time she calls it back early, banking on the angle and the arc to carry it into the projection’s side. It’s a risk. The kind she shouldn’t take; the kind she always does.
Whether it hits or not, she’ll still jog to catch up, steps slowing as the fountain looms. "Sooooo?" she pants, flushed and breathless. "Did I kill him or just give him a cool scar?"
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
