you put me on & said i was your favourite
Flora coos dramatically as the bird settles on her shoulder, tilting her head with the same spoiled smirk she reserves for fresh mango or compliments from people she isn’t sure she likes. "Excuse you," she tells the bird, mock-offended, as it snuggles into her curls like it’s always belonged there. ['say]"You better be bringing me gossip if you’re staying rent-free in the hair."
But as Sohalia links their arms and tugs her forward, Flora leans in with a lopsided grin, letting the motion carry her. There’s something grounding in the closeness—something that eases the knots still lingering under her ribs. " Oh, Spice is gonna throw a fit," she says with relish, the word stretching like a sun-drenched cat. "She already thinks I’m cheating every time I pick up a seashell that isn’t hers. You’re gonna have to call for a peace offering for her later. Maybe a crab. Can you do crabs?"
They walk on, and Flora lets their steps find a rhythm together, her sandals brushing bone and ancient tide-worn stone as they go. The bird flutters once but stays perched, and though she rolls her eyes at the fluffball, there’s a secret kind of joy humming beneath her skin. "I think it does suit me," she adds, quieter now. "And I think I like it better that you picked it."
She doesn’t say thank you. She doesn’t need to. It’s there in the way her fingers squeeze Soh’s arm just a little tighter, in the lightness of her laugh, in the way her eyes glint as they set their course for food and something resembling normalcy. Just two girls, walking home from an adventure, with feathers in their hair and chaos on the horizon.
~FIN
But as Sohalia links their arms and tugs her forward, Flora leans in with a lopsided grin, letting the motion carry her. There’s something grounding in the closeness—something that eases the knots still lingering under her ribs. " Oh, Spice is gonna throw a fit," she says with relish, the word stretching like a sun-drenched cat. "She already thinks I’m cheating every time I pick up a seashell that isn’t hers. You’re gonna have to call for a peace offering for her later. Maybe a crab. Can you do crabs?"
They walk on, and Flora lets their steps find a rhythm together, her sandals brushing bone and ancient tide-worn stone as they go. The bird flutters once but stays perched, and though she rolls her eyes at the fluffball, there’s a secret kind of joy humming beneath her skin. "I think it does suit me," she adds, quieter now. "And I think I like it better that you picked it."
She doesn’t say thank you. She doesn’t need to. It’s there in the way her fingers squeeze Soh’s arm just a little tighter, in the lightness of her laugh, in the way her eyes glint as they set their course for food and something resembling normalcy. Just two girls, walking home from an adventure, with feathers in their hair and chaos on the horizon.
~FIN
