flora
Flora’s grin softened into something crooked and affectionate, a spark of mischief tucked into its corner. "I really do appreciate it. It's basically a dying art these days." She sniffed dramatically, though her tone was all warmth.
At the mention of Dahlia, she gave a little shrug, as if brushing off dust rather than memory. "We can compare scars later," she offered, light and teasing, but her hand drifted briefly to her side as though unconsciously recalling where one of those wounds still lingered. "But I really am sorry I didn’t show. You were the one thing I was looking forward to that whole day."
Turning toward the table as he gestured, Flora glanced at the modest mountain of supplies she’d unloaded and then back at him, brows bouncing playfully. "Nooo," she drawled with mock offence. "This is all for us. Obviously." She swept over to the nearest bag and began pulling out fabric—rich swathes of black and ivory, glints of bone-white thread, buttons shaped like little teeth. "Ludo’s throwing a masquerade, " she explained, her voice lifting with excitement. "And the theme is Ludo. Everyone’s got to dress up like them. I thought maybe we could make something fun together—something a little eerie, a little ghostly. I brought a bunch of options."
Pausing, she held up a roll of gauzy black material with a flourish, letting it catch the light like smoke. "Even if you don’t want to go, you’ll end up with a killer cloak. Something warm. Regal. Very dead but make it fashion." Aka, very Niki.
At the mention of Dahlia, she gave a little shrug, as if brushing off dust rather than memory. "We can compare scars later," she offered, light and teasing, but her hand drifted briefly to her side as though unconsciously recalling where one of those wounds still lingered. "But I really am sorry I didn’t show. You were the one thing I was looking forward to that whole day."
Turning toward the table as he gestured, Flora glanced at the modest mountain of supplies she’d unloaded and then back at him, brows bouncing playfully. "Nooo," she drawled with mock offence. "This is all for us. Obviously." She swept over to the nearest bag and began pulling out fabric—rich swathes of black and ivory, glints of bone-white thread, buttons shaped like little teeth. "Ludo’s throwing a masquerade, " she explained, her voice lifting with excitement. "And the theme is Ludo. Everyone’s got to dress up like them. I thought maybe we could make something fun together—something a little eerie, a little ghostly. I brought a bunch of options."
Pausing, she held up a roll of gauzy black material with a flourish, letting it catch the light like smoke. "Even if you don’t want to go, you’ll end up with a killer cloak. Something warm. Regal. Very dead but make it fashion." Aka, very Niki.
I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland
