your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand
Flora just shrugs, swirling the last of the liquid in her glass. She doesn’t know Liam well enough to unpack all the quiet hesitations tangled in his voice—and gods knew she had her own mess of reasons for why kisses felt safer than commitment, why fleeting affection had always been easier to chase than trust. Her daddy and abandonment issues weren't the reasons they were sitting here today, and gods knew Liam didn't need anything else on his shoulders.
As Liam explains, the queen's expression shifts, softening with something gentler than pity. Sympathy, maybe, or the echo of understanding from someone who’s also had loss root itself deep and clawing. "It doesn’t seem like it ever really left you," she murmurs, voice quieter now, stripped of bravado. "The title. The burden. Seems like maybe it even still fits, even if you don’t wear the uniform anymore."
Her gaze drops to the table, fingers skating idly along the condensation ring left by her glass. "If you wanted it...I bet the Dragoons would take you. Especially now, with everything happening. It wouldn’t be like starting over. Just picking up where you left off." A pause. "Maybe even a little further ahead, actually."
As Liam explains, the queen's expression shifts, softening with something gentler than pity. Sympathy, maybe, or the echo of understanding from someone who’s also had loss root itself deep and clawing. "It doesn’t seem like it ever really left you," she murmurs, voice quieter now, stripped of bravado. "The title. The burden. Seems like maybe it even still fits, even if you don’t wear the uniform anymore."
Her gaze drops to the table, fingers skating idly along the condensation ring left by her glass. "If you wanted it...I bet the Dragoons would take you. Especially now, with everything happening. It wouldn’t be like starting over. Just picking up where you left off." A pause. "Maybe even a little further ahead, actually."
