flora
With the two Ancients trailing like shadows spun from heat and sin, Flora makes her way toward the back of the Hanged Man, pausing just long enough to call out for Sohalia. Her heels click over the wood, slightly uneven from the drinks already swirling warmly in her veins, but she’s graceful even when tipsy, her hips swinging with the kind of careless confidence that comes from knowing half the room is watching and none of it matters.
Past the storage rooms and washrooms they go, until she reaches the door at the end of the corridor. It takes her a second—maybe two—to fuss with the hidden latch, but then it yields with a soft click, revealing the hush of the Thieves Guild. Moonlight filters through the high slits in the stone, brushing over terracotta floors etched with quiet history. Cushioned couches beckon, and the secondary bar gleams in the shadows; stocked with her best, most illicit bottles.
Spinning too quickly, Flora stumbles with a soft oop! of laughter, catching herself against the wall. Her cheeks are flushed with heat and drink and something a little more wicked. She turns to face them, curls bouncing, corsette riding high against her ribs as she rests one hand dramatically against her hip.
Glancing between Danta and Asta with a slow, inviting smile, Flora reaches behind her to close the door. "What can I get you?" she purrs with a wave of her hand toward the gleaming bar that not so long ago Asta had helped put together.
Past the storage rooms and washrooms they go, until she reaches the door at the end of the corridor. It takes her a second—maybe two—to fuss with the hidden latch, but then it yields with a soft click, revealing the hush of the Thieves Guild. Moonlight filters through the high slits in the stone, brushing over terracotta floors etched with quiet history. Cushioned couches beckon, and the secondary bar gleams in the shadows; stocked with her best, most illicit bottles.
Spinning too quickly, Flora stumbles with a soft oop! of laughter, catching herself against the wall. Her cheeks are flushed with heat and drink and something a little more wicked. She turns to face them, curls bouncing, corsette riding high against her ribs as she rests one hand dramatically against her hip.
Glancing between Danta and Asta with a slow, inviting smile, Flora reaches behind her to close the door. "What can I get you?" she purrs with a wave of her hand toward the gleaming bar that not so long ago Asta had helped put together.
We can't make any promises now can we babe?
But you can make me a drink.
But you can make me a drink.
