flora
Flora laughed, tossing her braid over one shoulder like a banner caught in the wind. "Okay, okay, fair. Don't want to get you in trouble with your girl by pretending to swoon in your arms. Elbowing you in the face, though? Totally platonic."
As Zavien played along with exaggerated flair, she doubled over in breathless giggles, swatting lightly at his arm when he pretended to cast the scene into existence. "I knew you were more dramatic than you let on," she teased, her grin lingering as the moment settled and her pulse started to slow.
The training, for all its theatrics, had done what it needed to. Her breath still came quick, but the edge of desperation had dulled—like seawater finally receding after a storm surge. Wiping a bit of sweat from her temple, she tilted her head and let her gaze settle on him more seriously. "...Hey," she said, brushing a damp curl behind her ear and lowering her voice. "If I really do this—" A nod toward the imagined party, the pool, the punch. "—would you have my back?"
Her fingers itched lightly toward the scar carved into her shoulder by that godsdamned black sword. It didn’t hurt, not really, but the memory of it was always there; embedded in skin and bone like flint. "It’s okay if not," she added quickly, offering him a small, crooked smile. "You’ve got other obligations and you have to live here..and I know you can’t go charging into a fight every time your sparring partner decides to be crazy." Her tone was teasing, but the hope behind it was real, because the number of people Flora felt like she could actually count on these days was shockingly few.
As Zavien played along with exaggerated flair, she doubled over in breathless giggles, swatting lightly at his arm when he pretended to cast the scene into existence. "I knew you were more dramatic than you let on," she teased, her grin lingering as the moment settled and her pulse started to slow.
The training, for all its theatrics, had done what it needed to. Her breath still came quick, but the edge of desperation had dulled—like seawater finally receding after a storm surge. Wiping a bit of sweat from her temple, she tilted her head and let her gaze settle on him more seriously. "...Hey," she said, brushing a damp curl behind her ear and lowering her voice. "If I really do this—" A nod toward the imagined party, the pool, the punch. "—would you have my back?"
Her fingers itched lightly toward the scar carved into her shoulder by that godsdamned black sword. It didn’t hurt, not really, but the memory of it was always there; embedded in skin and bone like flint. "It’s okay if not," she added quickly, offering him a small, crooked smile. "You’ve got other obligations and you have to live here..and I know you can’t go charging into a fight every time your sparring partner decides to be crazy." Her tone was teasing, but the hope behind it was real, because the number of people Flora felt like she could actually count on these days was shockingly few.
I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland
