flora
Flora lifts her chin, arching a brow with theatrical offence as she sets her stitching aside once more. "Do I look like someone who’s ever been satisfied with what most people get?" she asks, eyes glittering before she grins affectionately at him.
With a rustle of gold-threaded feathers, she leans in against the table, elbows braced and voice low with a conspiring sort of warmth. "Besides," she goes on, curls spilling slightly over her shoulder as she tilts her head toward him, "we get along. You’re clever. I’m adorable. We could definitely share clothes. And if we ever drove each other crazy, I feel like it’d be the fun kind rather than the sort that makes you hate yourself."
She shrugs, lashes fluttering. "Anyway, I suppose I could learn to live with always being the big spoon. I’d sacrifice. For love." And as for his last comment? Flora presses her lips together in an exaggerated purse, as if trying very hard not to comment, a muffled little hmm! escaping despite her efforts. The glint in her eye says it all: Challenge accepted.
With a rustle of gold-threaded feathers, she leans in against the table, elbows braced and voice low with a conspiring sort of warmth. "Besides," she goes on, curls spilling slightly over her shoulder as she tilts her head toward him, "we get along. You’re clever. I’m adorable. We could definitely share clothes. And if we ever drove each other crazy, I feel like it’d be the fun kind rather than the sort that makes you hate yourself."
She shrugs, lashes fluttering. "Anyway, I suppose I could learn to live with always being the big spoon. I’d sacrifice. For love." And as for his last comment? Flora presses her lips together in an exaggerated purse, as if trying very hard not to comment, a muffled little hmm! escaping despite her efforts. The glint in her eye says it all: Challenge accepted.
I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland
