flora
Flora laughs, the sound sun-warmed and unapologetic, like the tide teasing a sandbar. "Honestly? I can’t even find things on my boat half the time, and it doesn’t usually move on its own." A quick glance toward the helm dares Spice to disagree, the little dragon preening under scrutiny. "Except when someone decides to reorganize the rigging with her claws," she adds dryly, wrinkling her nose.
At the “ma’am,” her expression shifts into something exaggeratedly horrified. "Oh no. Absolutely not. Just Flora is fine," she calls, wagging a finger with mock severity. "If I ever start answering to ma’am, I expect someone to throw me off the nearest pier."
The sails flutter overhead like they’re laughing too as she adjusts the tiller and reaches to anchor the Sugartide. The ship dips obligingly, trailing rainbow ribbons across the surf before settling just close enough for Flora to sling the trailing down. Her sandals are already in hand—gold-trimmed things she barely bothers with—as she hops down onto the cool sand with practiced ease, curls loosening in the wind.
"I didn’t know anyone lived out here," she admits, brushing her hands on the sides of her dress as she looks around. "Just wanted to make sure you weren’t stranded or something. Lotta folks tether their boats to the shore and then turn around to find the island’s wandered off without ‘em. I’ve seen more than a few very confused sailors yelling at the horizon like it’s personal."
She turns to face Panacea properly then, one brow lifted and a hint of curiosity flickering beneath the easy smile. "But I’ll never say no to a drink!"
At the “ma’am,” her expression shifts into something exaggeratedly horrified. "Oh no. Absolutely not. Just Flora is fine," she calls, wagging a finger with mock severity. "If I ever start answering to ma’am, I expect someone to throw me off the nearest pier."
The sails flutter overhead like they’re laughing too as she adjusts the tiller and reaches to anchor the Sugartide. The ship dips obligingly, trailing rainbow ribbons across the surf before settling just close enough for Flora to sling the trailing down. Her sandals are already in hand—gold-trimmed things she barely bothers with—as she hops down onto the cool sand with practiced ease, curls loosening in the wind.
"I didn’t know anyone lived out here," she admits, brushing her hands on the sides of her dress as she looks around. "Just wanted to make sure you weren’t stranded or something. Lotta folks tether their boats to the shore and then turn around to find the island’s wandered off without ‘em. I’ve seen more than a few very confused sailors yelling at the horizon like it’s personal."
She turns to face Panacea properly then, one brow lifted and a hint of curiosity flickering beneath the easy smile. "But I’ll never say no to a drink!"
My house of stone, your ivy grows
And now I'm covered in you
And now I'm covered in you
