flora
Flora hums against him, a soft, contented little sound that curls in her throat like the purr of a very smug cat. When Niki squeezes her back, she lingers half a heartbeat longer, just enough to soak in the warmth before she lets go, spinning away with a rustle of fabric and gold.
At his deadpan about her wordplay, she positively beams, bright enough to rival the stained-glass windows of the Hanged Man. "I have an entire missed date to make up for," she sings, sweeping her hands over the array of supplies like a game show hostess revealing the grand prize. "I considered a dramatic musical number, but decided you’d probably prefer wordplay instead."
She grins down at the gauzy fabric in her hands, folding it with reverent care. "You know, masquerades are usually just an excuse for people to make out with folks they wouldn’t dare kiss in daylight." Her brows arch with faux innocence, then settle into something softer. "But honestly? I’m just excited for something that isn’t about the Family, y'know? No Void, no infection. Just people in Ludo outfits pretending things are back to normal."
She glances back toward him, curls swinging over one shoulder. "I’d love some tea. I brought a blend from Torchline I think you’ll like—jasmine, dried molten pineapple, and a little lemongrass. Should be in the bag with the bird bones." Because of course it is.
"If you don’t mind putting the kettle on," she adds, already peeling back a bolt of fabric with all the drama of a curtain call, "I’ll get the stuff we need to take our measurements."
At his deadpan about her wordplay, she positively beams, bright enough to rival the stained-glass windows of the Hanged Man. "I have an entire missed date to make up for," she sings, sweeping her hands over the array of supplies like a game show hostess revealing the grand prize. "I considered a dramatic musical number, but decided you’d probably prefer wordplay instead."
She grins down at the gauzy fabric in her hands, folding it with reverent care. "You know, masquerades are usually just an excuse for people to make out with folks they wouldn’t dare kiss in daylight." Her brows arch with faux innocence, then settle into something softer. "But honestly? I’m just excited for something that isn’t about the Family, y'know? No Void, no infection. Just people in Ludo outfits pretending things are back to normal."
She glances back toward him, curls swinging over one shoulder. "I’d love some tea. I brought a blend from Torchline I think you’ll like—jasmine, dried molten pineapple, and a little lemongrass. Should be in the bag with the bird bones." Because of course it is.
"If you don’t mind putting the kettle on," she adds, already peeling back a bolt of fabric with all the drama of a curtain call, "I’ll get the stuff we need to take our measurements."
I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland
