you don't know that you're living 'til you're carrying scars
Flora presses her hand more firmly into Vai’s, her rings clinking gently as they're pressed together by the wtich's fingers, and lets out a small, surprised laugh at the phrasing. "Nonna," she murmurs with a mock-scandalised grin, eyes wide and wicked, "that is absolutely the title of your sex tape going in your spellbook memoirs. Chapter Twelve: How to Fill the Hole Yourself."
The laughter is short-lived but sincere, and when it fades, it leaves behind something softer—acceptance maybe, or the ache that comes with hearing something true said kindly. Her thumb draws slow circles along the back of Vai’s hand as her expression turns thoughtful. "Enzo said something like that too," she murmurs. "Not in so many words. He said if they didn’t have the qualifications, they didn’t get the interview." Her smile tilts fondly. "Same idea, I think."
She squeezes Vai’s hand again, eyes flicking toward her with something that’s part hope and part mischief. "But be honest with me," she says, tilting her head just so. "You couldn’t just whip up a spell? Conjure me a tall, brooding, emotionally available man with strong hands and a devotion complex? Maybe one who likes dragons and doesn’t get intimidated by my entire deal?" She arches a brow. "I’m not saying I deserve magical assistance in my love life, buttttttt I do feel like there are several birthdays you weren't around for, so maybe you could bend the rules?"
The laughter is short-lived but sincere, and when it fades, it leaves behind something softer—acceptance maybe, or the ache that comes with hearing something true said kindly. Her thumb draws slow circles along the back of Vai’s hand as her expression turns thoughtful. "Enzo said something like that too," she murmurs. "Not in so many words. He said if they didn’t have the qualifications, they didn’t get the interview." Her smile tilts fondly. "Same idea, I think."
She squeezes Vai’s hand again, eyes flicking toward her with something that’s part hope and part mischief. "But be honest with me," she says, tilting her head just so. "You couldn’t just whip up a spell? Conjure me a tall, brooding, emotionally available man with strong hands and a devotion complex? Maybe one who likes dragons and doesn’t get intimidated by my entire deal?" She arches a brow. "I’m not saying I deserve magical assistance in my love life, buttttttt I do feel like there are several birthdays you weren't around for, so maybe you could bend the rules?"
you're either falling in love or you're falling apart
