flora
Spice lingers just long enough to nuzzle under Sohalia’s touch, her trill soft and warm—like seafoam curling around bare ankles, like the memory of something once precious and still beloved. Then, with a flick of her wings, she lifts away, catching a current and sailing back toward Flora in a loose spiral, the wind toying at her small form like it doesn't want to let her go.
Flora watches, not just the dragon but the girl too—takes in the gleam of that too-bright smile, the edges of it sharp with effort. Gods, did she know the feeling. Smiling through the thunder. Pretending the world hadn’t left claw marks on your ribs. But today wasn’t for pity, and it wasn’t for grief either. Today was about control. Focus. Fun, even.
"Alright, alright," Flora calls, her grin tilting mischievously as the first dagger sings through the air and Soh’s staff snaps it away like it was nothing. She lifts her hand, fingers flexing with the motion, and the dagger she threw spins back toward her in a lazy, arcing call. Flora catches it in one smooth motion, tossing it up again with a gleam in her eye and a laugh that rings clear despite the wind. The second it slaps into her palm, she throws.
This time there’s no delay. The dagger cuts the air like lightning, fast and true, its spin tighter and its path sharp with intent. Not meant to hit, but meant to test. To see if Soh could meet it, not just with her staff, but with her grief folded small and tucked deep—and still move.
2/4
Flora watches, not just the dragon but the girl too—takes in the gleam of that too-bright smile, the edges of it sharp with effort. Gods, did she know the feeling. Smiling through the thunder. Pretending the world hadn’t left claw marks on your ribs. But today wasn’t for pity, and it wasn’t for grief either. Today was about control. Focus. Fun, even.
"Alright, alright," Flora calls, her grin tilting mischievously as the first dagger sings through the air and Soh’s staff snaps it away like it was nothing. She lifts her hand, fingers flexing with the motion, and the dagger she threw spins back toward her in a lazy, arcing call. Flora catches it in one smooth motion, tossing it up again with a gleam in her eye and a laugh that rings clear despite the wind. The second it slaps into her palm, she throws.
This time there’s no delay. The dagger cuts the air like lightning, fast and true, its spin tighter and its path sharp with intent. Not meant to hit, but meant to test. To see if Soh could meet it, not just with her staff, but with her grief folded small and tucked deep—and still move.
2/4
My house of stone, your ivy grows
And now I'm covered in you
And now I'm covered in you
