flora
Flora grins, eyes sparkling as she affectionately rolls her eyes at him. "Pff, you’d probably say the same thing about yourself now. ‘Oh, I mostly keep to myself, Flora,’" she mimics in a faux-deep voice, fluttering her lashes dramatically. "And yet here we are, designing spooky couture and sipping tea like old friends." She tilts her head at him, smile growing smug. “"Face it, Niki. We’re besties. You just haven’t realized it yet." (She’s well aware he’d disagree, or at least attempt to, but the tone she says it in leaves absolutely no room for argument. It’s simply a fact of the universe now, like gravity or dramatic capes.)
At his incredulous snort, Flora only bounces her brows and nods with solemn approval. "Absolutely. It’s the cadence. The casual precision. You sound like you’re narrating a very stylish ghost documentary. And I, for one, am obsessed."
Her hands are already busily rifling through the pile of trimmings again when he gestures to the feathers and gold thread. She pauses, then plucks a handful of raven plumes and fans them dramatically around her collarbone like a macabre necklace, turning her chin to the side with a flourish. "Daaaarling," she purrs, voice low and faux-regal, "what do we think?" A smirk tugs at her mouth. "Too much?"
At his incredulous snort, Flora only bounces her brows and nods with solemn approval. "Absolutely. It’s the cadence. The casual precision. You sound like you’re narrating a very stylish ghost documentary. And I, for one, am obsessed."
Her hands are already busily rifling through the pile of trimmings again when he gestures to the feathers and gold thread. She pauses, then plucks a handful of raven plumes and fans them dramatically around her collarbone like a macabre necklace, turning her chin to the side with a flourish. "Daaaarling," she purrs, voice low and faux-regal, "what do we think?" A smirk tugs at her mouth. "Too much?"
I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland
