flora
At the sound of her name, Flora turns with the drama of someone who expects to be admired mid-motion. Spice, curled comfortably across her shoulders like the world’s most glamorous (and coldest) scarf, releases a little puff of frost that drifts lazily into the humid air.
"Zavien," she greets, brightening immediately. There's genuine affection in her voice as she takes a few light steps toward him, eyes flicking once to Sol with a conspirator's grin. "You two are a sight for sore eyes."
The Sugar Tide gleams behind her on a flattened section of the road—tilted slightly, as if it landed with just a touch of flair and panic. Flora had chosen the Righteous Road deliberately, hoping the crumbling remnants of the old path would help her avoid the far more stressful social collision of a public skyport.
Instead, she places a hand on her hip, a smile curling like a secret she has no intention of sharing. "Honestly? I was hoping to find a training partner who wouldn’t go easy on me just because I happen to be their queen." Her tone is playful, but the words aren’t a joke—there’s something pointed in the way she says it, in the flicker of something not quite amusement in her gaze. "Most of the time in Torchline, people just fawn or fold. Makes it hard to break a sweat."
She lets her fingers absently scratch just beneath Spice’s chin as the little dragon fans out another chill-blast of air over her bare shoulders. Then, stepping a little closer, she raises her brows in an almost conspiratorial challenge. "Heyyyyyy, what're you up to right now? Wanna help me again, or did I exhaust all your patience last time?"
"Zavien," she greets, brightening immediately. There's genuine affection in her voice as she takes a few light steps toward him, eyes flicking once to Sol with a conspirator's grin. "You two are a sight for sore eyes."
The Sugar Tide gleams behind her on a flattened section of the road—tilted slightly, as if it landed with just a touch of flair and panic. Flora had chosen the Righteous Road deliberately, hoping the crumbling remnants of the old path would help her avoid the far more stressful social collision of a public skyport.
Instead, she places a hand on her hip, a smile curling like a secret she has no intention of sharing. "Honestly? I was hoping to find a training partner who wouldn’t go easy on me just because I happen to be their queen." Her tone is playful, but the words aren’t a joke—there’s something pointed in the way she says it, in the flicker of something not quite amusement in her gaze. "Most of the time in Torchline, people just fawn or fold. Makes it hard to break a sweat."
She lets her fingers absently scratch just beneath Spice’s chin as the little dragon fans out another chill-blast of air over her bare shoulders. Then, stepping a little closer, she raises her brows in an almost conspiratorial challenge. "Heyyyyyy, what're you up to right now? Wanna help me again, or did I exhaust all your patience last time?"
I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland
