you don't know that you're living 'til you're carrying scars
Flora spins the moment warm hands find her shoulders, her curls catching the lanternlight as they fan around her face—and the sound that bursts from her is somewhere between a squeal and a sob of disbelief. "Nonna!"
There’s no pause, no royal composure, no queenly restraint. She throws her arms around Vai like a tide crashing back to shore, burying her face against the familiar wildness of those curls and breathing in a scent she’d memorised as a child—herbs and woodsmoke and something like old spellbooks and sunshine. "You’re here—you’re really here—!" she breathes, her voice cracking on the second word as she clutches tighter. The jasmine at her spine trembles with the force of it, and for once she doesn’t care how many people see her crying. "You haven’t changed at all, you’re just as pretty—how is that fair? You were supposed to get all grey and wise so I could finally catch up."
She pulls back only enough to see her properly, eyes glimmering with tears and laughter all at once. "Gods, how dare dad keep you being here a secret." Her voice wobbles with the ache of all the lost time and the wonder of getting even a second of it back. "There's so much I've wanted to tell you."
Then, catching herself, Flora laughs wetly and presses her fingers beneath her eyes to swipe at the tears. "Gods, I look a mess now," she says, exhaling a half-hysterical little giggle. "Yes. Please. A drink, or maybe several."
There’s no pause, no royal composure, no queenly restraint. She throws her arms around Vai like a tide crashing back to shore, burying her face against the familiar wildness of those curls and breathing in a scent she’d memorised as a child—herbs and woodsmoke and something like old spellbooks and sunshine. "You’re here—you’re really here—!" she breathes, her voice cracking on the second word as she clutches tighter. The jasmine at her spine trembles with the force of it, and for once she doesn’t care how many people see her crying. "You haven’t changed at all, you’re just as pretty—how is that fair? You were supposed to get all grey and wise so I could finally catch up."
She pulls back only enough to see her properly, eyes glimmering with tears and laughter all at once. "Gods, how dare dad keep you being here a secret." Her voice wobbles with the ache of all the lost time and the wonder of getting even a second of it back. "There's so much I've wanted to tell you."
Then, catching herself, Flora laughs wetly and presses her fingers beneath her eyes to swipe at the tears. "Gods, I look a mess now," she says, exhaling a half-hysterical little giggle. "Yes. Please. A drink, or maybe several."
you're either falling in love or you're falling apart
