flora
"You’re unbelievable," Flora drawls, but there’s no heat to it—just the golden sparkle of someone enjoying herself far more than she expected to. Her head tips back again, curls tousled by the wind, and this time she doesn’t laugh so much as sigh, the sound light and contented. "If I’d known your whole pitch was ‘live fast, look pretty, die inspired,’ I might’ve shown up sooner."
Her chin comes back to rest near his shoulder, the illusion gone but the thrill still lingering. With the beach now just warm sand and lazy waves again, the world feels slower, softer. Closer. She could pull back, could make some joke about charity cases or add a sarcastic 'you’re welcome' for the pleasure of her company—but she doesn’t. At least, not yet.
Instead, her fingers shift slightly under his, not pulling away, just tracing absent-minded shapes against his knuckles. "It’s dumb," she says after a moment, quieter, like it’s been sitting in her chest for a while, "but sometimes it feels like I forgot how to do that. Live, I mean. Like I got so used to surviving and fixing things and making it all look easy that I… stopped wanting things just for me." Exhaling thoughtful, Flora's grin suddenly turns wry. "Until someone started conjuring blizzards and dragging me onto magical ponies."
Her aqua eyes flick sideways, sharp and mischievous again. "Don’t let it go to your head, though. You’ve still got, like, half a point." She pauses, then leans in a fraction closer, voice dipping low. "Maybe three-quarters, though that's mostly because of Hugo."
And then, because he asked—because of course he did—Flora lets her lashes dip low, lets her voice drip with faux-reverence as she breathes, "Oh wise, dazzling, devastatingly humble mystery an—thank you for saving me from my boring, beige little existence. I am but a simple woman, swept up in your snowstorm of selflessness and charm." She glances up through her lashes, lips twitching. "How's that?"
Her chin comes back to rest near his shoulder, the illusion gone but the thrill still lingering. With the beach now just warm sand and lazy waves again, the world feels slower, softer. Closer. She could pull back, could make some joke about charity cases or add a sarcastic 'you’re welcome' for the pleasure of her company—but she doesn’t. At least, not yet.
Instead, her fingers shift slightly under his, not pulling away, just tracing absent-minded shapes against his knuckles. "It’s dumb," she says after a moment, quieter, like it’s been sitting in her chest for a while, "but sometimes it feels like I forgot how to do that. Live, I mean. Like I got so used to surviving and fixing things and making it all look easy that I… stopped wanting things just for me." Exhaling thoughtful, Flora's grin suddenly turns wry. "Until someone started conjuring blizzards and dragging me onto magical ponies."
Her aqua eyes flick sideways, sharp and mischievous again. "Don’t let it go to your head, though. You’ve still got, like, half a point." She pauses, then leans in a fraction closer, voice dipping low. "Maybe three-quarters, though that's mostly because of Hugo."
And then, because he asked—because of course he did—Flora lets her lashes dip low, lets her voice drip with faux-reverence as she breathes, "Oh wise, dazzling, devastatingly humble mystery an—thank you for saving me from my boring, beige little existence. I am but a simple woman, swept up in your snowstorm of selflessness and charm." She glances up through her lashes, lips twitching. "How's that?"
I want to be when you fall on me like night
I wanna kill the lights
I wanna kill the lights
