flora
The I don’t wasn’t harsh, but Flora still glanced over, wary by habit now, like every conversation she had was just one wrong look from collapsing. But Zavien wasn’t sharp with it—just honest. And so she nodded, letting the moment pass between them without flinching.
"I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me," she murmured, her voice quieting as her fingers worked absently at one of the rings on her hand. "So if things go sideways, and you’re thinking more about getting people out than jumping into the mess with me..." Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug, careful and wry. "That’s probably the smarter play."
She drew in a slow breath, then let it out through her nose, glancing out toward the sky. "I was on a birthday walk with my boyfriend, when it happened," she said, keeping her tone light despite the way the words clenched like a fist in her chest. She too had been unprepared, though something told her that regardless she'd likely have ended up in the same situation.
But her mouth quirked a little at his final words. "Pierce isn’t dead," she echoed. "Yet." The threat was sugar-coated in a smile, but it glittered like broken glass.
Turning slightly toward him again, she tipped her head and offered, more playfully this time, "I’ll give you a wink at the party if I’m planning on doing anything reckless. You can decide then if you’re in or out." Her gaze lingered, teasing but not unserious.
"I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me," she murmured, her voice quieting as her fingers worked absently at one of the rings on her hand. "So if things go sideways, and you’re thinking more about getting people out than jumping into the mess with me..." Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug, careful and wry. "That’s probably the smarter play."
She drew in a slow breath, then let it out through her nose, glancing out toward the sky. "I was on a birthday walk with my boyfriend, when it happened," she said, keeping her tone light despite the way the words clenched like a fist in her chest. She too had been unprepared, though something told her that regardless she'd likely have ended up in the same situation.
But her mouth quirked a little at his final words. "Pierce isn’t dead," she echoed. "Yet." The threat was sugar-coated in a smile, but it glittered like broken glass.
Turning slightly toward him again, she tipped her head and offered, more playfully this time, "I’ll give you a wink at the party if I’m planning on doing anything reckless. You can decide then if you’re in or out." Her gaze lingered, teasing but not unserious.
I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland
