with each love i cut loose i was never the same
Flora grins at Danta’s sigh, one brow arching high as she gives him a slow, appraising once-over—appreciative and teasing in equal measure. "Mmm, that does sound tempting," she hums, lashes fluttering before her expression shifts into mock concern. "Right up until you come back smelling like me and Asta shows up at my door with those glowing eyes and his very spooky new ability." She leans in a little, stage-whispering like it’s a true secret. "Although...if we used that new rage room of yours, would you even smell like me after?" Her head tilts, golden curls spilling down one shoulder.
But when they reach the entrance to the shrine, her smile softens—still bright, but with a flicker of nerves beneath. Flora eyes the entrance like someone who’s seen far too many divine egos up close, and gives a low whistle under her breath. "Oh, I’m ready," she says, but the words come with a wry twist of her lips. "But just so we’re clear, if this kicks off some celestial catfight between Dygra and Safrin, I am not taking the blame." Her finger taps lightly against Danta’s chest, just once.
But when they reach the entrance to the shrine, her smile softens—still bright, but with a flicker of nerves beneath. Flora eyes the entrance like someone who’s seen far too many divine egos up close, and gives a low whistle under her breath. "Oh, I’m ready," she says, but the words come with a wry twist of her lips. "But just so we’re clear, if this kicks off some celestial catfight between Dygra and Safrin, I am not taking the blame." Her finger taps lightly against Danta’s chest, just once.
