you hate the crash, but you love the rush
Spice is the first to notice the demigods arrival. The little dragon perks with a frost-glittered chirrup, tail curling as her wings fan open for balance on the narrow ledge. A quick puff of icy breath swirls defensively into the mist before she settles again, but the sound is enough to pull Flora from her quiet. Eyes cracking open, she turns her head lazily toward the movement—steam parting to reveal a tall, lean silhouette approaching through the haze. She doesn’t flinch at the voice, half-muffled by warmth and water and her own weightless float. Instead, she smiles, slow and drowsy from heat and distance. "Heya," she says, her voice smooth as sea-glass, "Nice to see you again."
With a slight tilt, she twists to look up at him more fully, one arm dragging through the water as she shifts her balance. "Yeah, I finished." Her tone is a little proud but not boastful; she’d made the journey, left her offerings, whispered to gods beneath every kind of sky. The water closes over her collarbones as she straightens, toes brushing the smooth stone beneath the surface. Her curls remain twisted atop her head, though a few damp strands now dangle freely as she leans forward, forearms resting on the pool’s edge near where he stands. The stars paint dappled light across her shoulders and back, glittering in the rivulets of water that trail down her skin.
She lifts a brow at his dry clothes and folded coat. "I don't know if you know this, but you aren't exactly dressed for a swim."
With a slight tilt, she twists to look up at him more fully, one arm dragging through the water as she shifts her balance. "Yeah, I finished." Her tone is a little proud but not boastful; she’d made the journey, left her offerings, whispered to gods beneath every kind of sky. The water closes over her collarbones as she straightens, toes brushing the smooth stone beneath the surface. Her curls remain twisted atop her head, though a few damp strands now dangle freely as she leans forward, forearms resting on the pool’s edge near where he stands. The stars paint dappled light across her shoulders and back, glittering in the rivulets of water that trail down her skin.
She lifts a brow at his dry clothes and folded coat. "I don't know if you know this, but you aren't exactly dressed for a swim."
