Flora
Flora chuckles dryly at Jack’s wry remark. "Mm," she hums, arching a brow with a glint of mischief. "Me too. It gives me an excuse to go shopping for something suitably skimpy, but that can also conceal a few key accessories."
As he rises, she steps stiffly back out of his space. Her gaze flickers to his as he thanks her, and for a moment her expression softens again—not into regret, but into something quieter. She hadn’t properly understood until recently just how much it had hurt him, being kept in the dark about her plans, and even if they were standing in the hazy middle ground between exes and almost-friends, it wasn’t a mistake she planned to repeat.
It’s only as she shifts to grab the knife from where she’d tucked it away that her foot catches on something unnaturally slick. She glances down, one brow arcing higher as she takes in the frost and icicles threading out beneath the bench like a bloom of frostbite in the middle of Longheat.
Arms folding across her chest, Flora levels a look at him so dry it could wilt a cactus. "I told you not to do that," she scolds with mock severity, gesturing at the frost with the dagger and waggling it in his direction, before deftly flipping it in the air and catching the blade between her fingers, offering it back to him hilt-first.
As he rises, she steps stiffly back out of his space. Her gaze flickers to his as he thanks her, and for a moment her expression softens again—not into regret, but into something quieter. She hadn’t properly understood until recently just how much it had hurt him, being kept in the dark about her plans, and even if they were standing in the hazy middle ground between exes and almost-friends, it wasn’t a mistake she planned to repeat.
It’s only as she shifts to grab the knife from where she’d tucked it away that her foot catches on something unnaturally slick. She glances down, one brow arcing higher as she takes in the frost and icicles threading out beneath the bench like a bloom of frostbite in the middle of Longheat.
Arms folding across her chest, Flora levels a look at him so dry it could wilt a cactus. "I told you not to do that," she scolds with mock severity, gesturing at the frost with the dagger and waggling it in his direction, before deftly flipping it in the air and catching the blade between her fingers, offering it back to him hilt-first.
I trace the evidence, make it make some sense
why the wound is still bleedin'
why the wound is still bleedin'
Code stolen from Queen Sky
