you don't know that you're living 'til you're carrying scars
Flora bumps her shoulder gently against Sohalia’s again, the motion soft but sure. "Whatever you choose," she says, eyes catching the last glint of sunlight on the tide, "I’m in your corner. Always."
At the wistful question, though, that softness blooms into a grin. "Okay, well , have you ever been in the Cordillera?" she asks, eyebrows lifting with the spark of mischief already igniting behind her sea-glass eyes. Because there’s something wild and unclaimed about the mountains—something just dangerous enough to be tempting. Flora’s grin curves wider. "I’m talking waterfalls that haven’t been charted. Cliffs that don’t show up on maps. Caves with ancient graffiti and moss that glows at night. Whole valleys you can only find if you take a wrong turn and get properly lost."
She casts Sohalia a sideways glance, the grin turning sly. "I've always wanted to go."
At the wistful question, though, that softness blooms into a grin. "Okay, well , have you ever been in the Cordillera?" she asks, eyebrows lifting with the spark of mischief already igniting behind her sea-glass eyes. Because there’s something wild and unclaimed about the mountains—something just dangerous enough to be tempting. Flora’s grin curves wider. "I’m talking waterfalls that haven’t been charted. Cliffs that don’t show up on maps. Caves with ancient graffiti and moss that glows at night. Whole valleys you can only find if you take a wrong turn and get properly lost."
She casts Sohalia a sideways glance, the grin turning sly. "I've always wanted to go."
you're either falling in love or you're falling apart
