yeah I got heartbreak that I reminisce about
Flora walks beside Nikandr with the languid elegance of someone who wants to be watched, and is determined to give them a show worth remembering. Her heels, perilous and glittering with every step, make the forest path a catwalk of their own. Not that she minds the slow pace that they've forced upon her; it gives her more time to lean into Niki’s arm, to bask in the lanternlight and the music spilling like laughter from the hollows of old bark.
"You," she declares with a grin, tossing her golden curls over one shoulder as she flicks her gaze toward his painted jaw, "look absolutely fantastic. No one is going to doubt me for a second when I say that you're a ghost, now." Her voice is syrupy with delight, the mask she wears entirely white save for the lashes she’s drawn with inky flair, as dramatic and unapologetic as everything else about her.
Her gown glides like spilled ink across her body, the raven's feathers at her collar trembling with every step like they’re alive and half-impressed to be worn by someone this shameless. Black fabric clings to her curves, corseted and cruel in all the right places, though it’s the way she moves that draws eyes: with confidence born of chaos and heartbreak, of knowing exactly how many versions of herself she’s survived.
They crest the edge of the clearing just as a will-o-wisp flits across their path. The scent of roasted fruit and cinnamon cuts through the hum of music and revelry, and gods, it almost makes her forget how far from simple this place used to be. "C’mon," she murmurs to Niki as they step fully into the clearing, her grin curling with mischief and memory alike. "Can I tempt you with a drink to loosen things up?" And if her gaze lingers a little longer than it should on the edges of the clearing—if she’s looking for someone or something she hasn’t let herself name—well. That’s what masks are for, isn’t it?
Flora made her outfit in [SE] *
"You," she declares with a grin, tossing her golden curls over one shoulder as she flicks her gaze toward his painted jaw, "look absolutely fantastic. No one is going to doubt me for a second when I say that you're a ghost, now." Her voice is syrupy with delight, the mask she wears entirely white save for the lashes she’s drawn with inky flair, as dramatic and unapologetic as everything else about her.
Her gown glides like spilled ink across her body, the raven's feathers at her collar trembling with every step like they’re alive and half-impressed to be worn by someone this shameless. Black fabric clings to her curves, corseted and cruel in all the right places, though it’s the way she moves that draws eyes: with confidence born of chaos and heartbreak, of knowing exactly how many versions of herself she’s survived.
They crest the edge of the clearing just as a will-o-wisp flits across their path. The scent of roasted fruit and cinnamon cuts through the hum of music and revelry, and gods, it almost makes her forget how far from simple this place used to be. "C’mon," she murmurs to Niki as they step fully into the clearing, her grin curling with mischief and memory alike. "Can I tempt you with a drink to loosen things up?" And if her gaze lingers a little longer than it should on the edges of the clearing—if she’s looking for someone or something she hasn’t let herself name—well. That’s what masks are for, isn’t it?
Flora made her outfit in [SE] *
some real big things I still gotta figure out
