Flora
Flora snorts. "Honestly? Same," she admits, flipping Ever’s note around to show the meticulous little diagram he’d added to illustrate the aerial stabilisers. "This is, like, four types of magic. I thought I was buying a boat, not a group project with godsdamn midterms."
She leans against the edge of the helm and resumes scanning the page, curls fluttering in the breeze. "Okay—Step 6 is..." Her nose scrunched. "‘Cross-reference wind arc trajectory against pre-charted astral drift’? Mateo. Babes. I hate this."
With a sigh that's more dramatic than defeated, she crumples slightly forward, forehead resting on the edge of the chart table. "Tell me again why I didn't just stick to cocktails and questionable decisions? Or better yet, where do I get a cute aviator to fly me around?" Or, well, a different one to the one she'd had?
She leans against the edge of the helm and resumes scanning the page, curls fluttering in the breeze. "Okay—Step 6 is..." Her nose scrunched. "‘Cross-reference wind arc trajectory against pre-charted astral drift’? Mateo. Babes. I hate this."
With a sigh that's more dramatic than defeated, she crumples slightly forward, forehead resting on the edge of the chart table. "Tell me again why I didn't just stick to cocktails and questionable decisions? Or better yet, where do I get a cute aviator to fly me around?" Or, well, a different one to the one she'd had?
'Cause I'm a real tough kid, I can handle my shit
They said, "Babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it" and I did
They said, "Babe, you gotta fake it 'til you make it" and I did
Code stolen from Queen Sky
