Theea
Yla
The kiss to my cheek startles me—but in a good way. I let out a soft laugh, a little breathless with relief. Her warmth is magnetic in a way I’m still getting used to, like stepping into the sun after a long shadowed walk. Some of the tension I’ve been carrying since I walked through the door eases, just slightly, under her presence.
"Of course I came," I say, with a smile that tilts just shy of dry. I shift the rolled-up paper from one hand to the other, trying not to fidget. "Though if it weren’t so hot, I did consider showing up in my travel jacket just to feel like myself. This whole… breeze-on-my-stomach thing is new."
I glance down at the wrapped skirt and the sandals, like they belong to someone braver. I’ve spent so long bundled in layers, traveling with everything I owned strapped to my back, that the sudden lightness feels like exposure. Like being a peeled fruit in a room full of knives. Doesn’t help that being this old is brand new. "I used to think I dressed normal. Now I’m starting to wonder if I’ve secretly been an old man in disguise."
But Flora makes it easy. Being near her, I feel less out of place—less like a stray guest who slipped into the wrong gathering and more like someone who was invited on purpose.
"I brought something," I say, cutting off the next spiral before it starts. I hold out the rolled parchment. "From when we met. She was showing off in the trees, flaring her wings like she knew I’d end up trying to capture the moment eventually." I glance down, cheeks a little warm now. "Didn’t expect it to turn into a gift, but… I couldn’t stop thinking about it."
I put on a smirk and keep it light. "If it’s too much—too soon or too personal or just bad art—you can pretend you love it and throw it away after I leave. I promise not to dig through the trash to check.”
"Of course I came," I say, with a smile that tilts just shy of dry. I shift the rolled-up paper from one hand to the other, trying not to fidget. "Though if it weren’t so hot, I did consider showing up in my travel jacket just to feel like myself. This whole… breeze-on-my-stomach thing is new."
I glance down at the wrapped skirt and the sandals, like they belong to someone braver. I’ve spent so long bundled in layers, traveling with everything I owned strapped to my back, that the sudden lightness feels like exposure. Like being a peeled fruit in a room full of knives. Doesn’t help that being this old is brand new. "I used to think I dressed normal. Now I’m starting to wonder if I’ve secretly been an old man in disguise."
But Flora makes it easy. Being near her, I feel less out of place—less like a stray guest who slipped into the wrong gathering and more like someone who was invited on purpose.
"I brought something," I say, cutting off the next spiral before it starts. I hold out the rolled parchment. "From when we met. She was showing off in the trees, flaring her wings like she knew I’d end up trying to capture the moment eventually." I glance down, cheeks a little warm now. "Didn’t expect it to turn into a gift, but… I couldn’t stop thinking about it."
I put on a smirk and keep it light. "If it’s too much—too soon or too personal or just bad art—you can pretend you love it and throw it away after I leave. I promise not to dig through the trash to check.”
occupation: aspiring beam of light
