flora
With a wounded gasp, Flora clutches the nearest scrap of fabric and collapses sideways onto the table, limbs splayed like a tragic heroine mid-opera. "Words are difficult," she moans dramatically, muffled into the cloth. "And so, too, is living in a world where my anatomical mistakes are mocked. If only...if only there were a necromancer nearby to resurrect me from such public humiliation."
She peeks up at him from the folds of muslin and thread, eyes wide and shimmering with adoration. "Now who's flirting with who?" she breathes, utterly rapt."“The best gentle sway of my life? Niki, don’t say things you can’t take back." But then, softer, more sincere, she adds, "I’m really looking forward to it."
Propping her chin on her hand, she gives him a bright, conspiratorial grin. "And you’re absolutely right. Besides, Mort would never just stand around at a party either. So really," she says, gesturing between them with her thread, "you owe it to both Ludo and Mort."
She peeks up at him from the folds of muslin and thread, eyes wide and shimmering with adoration. "Now who's flirting with who?" she breathes, utterly rapt."“The best gentle sway of my life? Niki, don’t say things you can’t take back." But then, softer, more sincere, she adds, "I’m really looking forward to it."
Propping her chin on her hand, she gives him a bright, conspiratorial grin. "And you’re absolutely right. Besides, Mort would never just stand around at a party either. So really," she says, gesturing between them with her thread, "you owe it to both Ludo and Mort."
I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland
