flora
Flora lifts her brows, rolls her eyes, and levels him with a look that’s far too amused to be entirely scathing. "Please. You’ve never been in love, so how would you even know?" she counters, all challenge and knowing smirk, like she’s just set a trap and is daring him to try and wriggle free. "You wouldn’t know capital-L Love if it knocked you flat on your ass and asked you to share a toothbrush."
She snorts as she steps around to the next grave. "And seriously, look me in the eye and tell me I’m going to die peacefully." Her arms stretch wide as if to gesture at the sheer absurdity of the idea, her whole body radiating disbelief. "The odds of me going out in my sleep are, like, statistically nonexistent."
Her nose wrinkles as she places another bloom. "Besides, dying from heartbreak? Sounds hella needy, not romantic. I want someone who can keep going. Who will grieve me and do mopey shit like saying they see me in the sunrise. Who’ll talk to me even if I can’t answer." Except she would, because she'll be a ghost.
Flora stands after a moment, the breeze stirring her curls as she gazes down at the stone, mouth tugging sideways as if the tombstone is a prompt rather than a warning. "Mmmmmm, mine could be...She died as she lived: better dressed than you., or, y'know what? Who needs a grave. I don't want to just be reduced down to some place people go to be sad."
She snorts as she steps around to the next grave. "And seriously, look me in the eye and tell me I’m going to die peacefully." Her arms stretch wide as if to gesture at the sheer absurdity of the idea, her whole body radiating disbelief. "The odds of me going out in my sleep are, like, statistically nonexistent."
Her nose wrinkles as she places another bloom. "Besides, dying from heartbreak? Sounds hella needy, not romantic. I want someone who can keep going. Who will grieve me and do mopey shit like saying they see me in the sunrise. Who’ll talk to me even if I can’t answer." Except she would, because she'll be a ghost.
Flora stands after a moment, the breeze stirring her curls as she gazes down at the stone, mouth tugging sideways as if the tombstone is a prompt rather than a warning. "Mmmmmm, mine could be...She died as she lived: better dressed than you., or, y'know what? Who needs a grave. I don't want to just be reduced down to some place people go to be sad."
I hope you're wetting your appetite, finding your way into someone's eyes
I hope you're dreaming in black and white, and seeing in colour
I hope you're dreaming in black and white, and seeing in colour
