with each love i cut loose i was never the same
Flora’s laugh is low and warm, shaking through her shoulders like wind rustling a cluster of late-season leaves. "Well, at least while he’s infected the world isn’t some melting violet mess—small mercies and all that." A playful roll of her eyes sends sunlight sparking off the bangles crowding her wrist as she shrugs. There were benefits to being infected after all.
Spice sweeps overhead, scattering chilly motes that glitter around the little figure she’s just placed—an acorn body topped by a cap askew like a jaunty beret. "Acorn man," she explains, voice softening with something close to fondness. "Ludo’s partial to dolls, especially ones made from what’s on hand. Leaf limbs, acorn heads—cheap thrills for a herald of Death." Another dip into her pocket produces a tiny cat fashioned from a walnut shell and twig tail, followed by a crooked miniature Flora, complete with a scrap of golden thread for hair. She sets them beside the first, arranging them like a curious family picnic. "Ludo helped me untangle a...complicated conversation recently," she says, smoothing a curl behind her ear. "Instead of calling them down again and making a grand spectacle, I figured I’d scatter a thank-you where they’ll find it. Quiet gratitude feels nicer sometimes, y'know?"
She rises, brushing moss from her jeans, and steps back to admire the trio of odd little offerings. A slow smile unfurls, lit from within. "Anyway, shall we?" A wink flickers his way before she slips her hands into her pockets once more, ready to resume their stroll beneath the Wildwood’s gilded ceiling.
~FIN
Spice sweeps overhead, scattering chilly motes that glitter around the little figure she’s just placed—an acorn body topped by a cap askew like a jaunty beret. "Acorn man," she explains, voice softening with something close to fondness. "Ludo’s partial to dolls, especially ones made from what’s on hand. Leaf limbs, acorn heads—cheap thrills for a herald of Death." Another dip into her pocket produces a tiny cat fashioned from a walnut shell and twig tail, followed by a crooked miniature Flora, complete with a scrap of golden thread for hair. She sets them beside the first, arranging them like a curious family picnic. "Ludo helped me untangle a...complicated conversation recently," she says, smoothing a curl behind her ear. "Instead of calling them down again and making a grand spectacle, I figured I’d scatter a thank-you where they’ll find it. Quiet gratitude feels nicer sometimes, y'know?"
She rises, brushing moss from her jeans, and steps back to admire the trio of odd little offerings. A slow smile unfurls, lit from within. "Anyway, shall we?" A wink flickers his way before she slips her hands into her pockets once more, ready to resume their stroll beneath the Wildwood’s gilded ceiling.
~FIN
