karma's a relaxing thought, aren't you envious that for you it's not?
A ripple of laughter bursts from the air just past where the leaves had fallen, bright and wild as seafoam caught on coral. "I never said puns wouldn’t be involved," Flora sings out, every syllable wreathed in mischief. "Honestly, it’s rude to assume otherwise. I am many things, Hadama, but predictable isn’t one of them."
The words trail off just in time for the ground to lurch. The vegetation before her detonates in a wet, leafy spray as the gravity spike slams down, the force of it sending a shudder through the sand and splattering sap and chlorophyll in wild, sticky streaks. With a startled squeak she stumbles backward, a flurry of footsteps tracing her retreat in the sand—visible evidence that, this time, the Tidebreaker’s aim had been unnervingly close.
The humming ceases. For a moment the air is still.
Then it starts again—this time softer, warier, curling through the humid air like a siren’s tease. And with it, two feathered daggers flash in unison, cutting twin paths on either side of Hadama in a crisscross of glittering arc. Flora, meanwhile, ducks low into the brush, curls brushing her cheek as she crouches in the stillness, hoping the misdirection will work and he'd think she'd gone somewhere other than where she currently was.
3/4
The words trail off just in time for the ground to lurch. The vegetation before her detonates in a wet, leafy spray as the gravity spike slams down, the force of it sending a shudder through the sand and splattering sap and chlorophyll in wild, sticky streaks. With a startled squeak she stumbles backward, a flurry of footsteps tracing her retreat in the sand—visible evidence that, this time, the Tidebreaker’s aim had been unnervingly close.
The humming ceases. For a moment the air is still.
Then it starts again—this time softer, warier, curling through the humid air like a siren’s tease. And with it, two feathered daggers flash in unison, cutting twin paths on either side of Hadama in a crisscross of glittering arc. Flora, meanwhile, ducks low into the brush, curls brushing her cheek as she crouches in the stillness, hoping the misdirection will work and he'd think she'd gone somewhere other than where she currently was.
3/4
