you don't know that you're living 'til you're carrying scars
Flora waves her glass lazily through the air, sloshing the wine just shy of the rim. "Skip the middle man," she says breezily, her grin returning with full conspiratorial flair. "We’ll workshop the chapters together the next time you manage to sneak through. I’ll bring the scented paper and scandalous illustrations, you bring the ghost gossip and morally questionable hexes. Deal?"
Her laughter softens at the swat, and she bats playfully at Vai’s hand, though the touch lands lightly against her wrist. "You always did know how to make a girl feel like a hot mess on purpose," she says with a fond scoff, tipping her glass to her lips and taking a long, unrepentant sip. "And don’t you dare stop. I want that embroidered on a pillow."
The warmth in her expression lingers even as the conversation dips back toward more delicate threads. As Vai promises nothing and everything with a wink and a smirk, Flora’s smile curves around the edge of her glass. “"You’re the best ghost matchmaker a girl could ask for," she murmurs, eyes twinkling. "If my date ends up see-through, I’m not complaining."
But when Vai touches her hair—adjusting blossoms, smoothing curls—Flora quiets, her lashes lowering with the weight of something tender and still aching beneath the surface. The witch’s words echo gently through her, striking the place where hope lives stubborn and wild despite everything. She hums softly, a breath catching in her throat before she sets down her glass and folds herself into Vai’s arms once more. "I’ll find a way," she whispers against her nonna’s shoulder, voice thick but sure. "After I bring Enzo back...I’ll find a way to bring you too. Even if you’re too sick of us all by then and have to be bribed with eternal spa days."
She smiles faintly, the scent of her flowers wrapping them both like a promise. "You’re not done raising me yet, you know."
Her laughter softens at the swat, and she bats playfully at Vai’s hand, though the touch lands lightly against her wrist. "You always did know how to make a girl feel like a hot mess on purpose," she says with a fond scoff, tipping her glass to her lips and taking a long, unrepentant sip. "And don’t you dare stop. I want that embroidered on a pillow."
The warmth in her expression lingers even as the conversation dips back toward more delicate threads. As Vai promises nothing and everything with a wink and a smirk, Flora’s smile curves around the edge of her glass. “"You’re the best ghost matchmaker a girl could ask for," she murmurs, eyes twinkling. "If my date ends up see-through, I’m not complaining."
But when Vai touches her hair—adjusting blossoms, smoothing curls—Flora quiets, her lashes lowering with the weight of something tender and still aching beneath the surface. The witch’s words echo gently through her, striking the place where hope lives stubborn and wild despite everything. She hums softly, a breath catching in her throat before she sets down her glass and folds herself into Vai’s arms once more. "I’ll find a way," she whispers against her nonna’s shoulder, voice thick but sure. "After I bring Enzo back...I’ll find a way to bring you too. Even if you’re too sick of us all by then and have to be bribed with eternal spa days."
She smiles faintly, the scent of her flowers wrapping them both like a promise. "You’re not done raising me yet, you know."
you're either falling in love or you're falling apart
