your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand
Flora laughs, a sharp and delighted sound that arcs across the wind as her dagger tugs at Koa’s shirt and zips past. "Apparently so!" she calls, grinning over her shoulder. There’s real joy in it—some bone-deep delight at the fact that he still knows her, still reads her like a book he once memorised and hasn’t quite forgotten how to hold.
She’s mid-turn when she catches the blur of his hand moving, the flicker of motion sharp enough that her instincts twitch just a hair too late. Something catches at the back of her knee—projected force, not touch—and it sends her stutter-stepping forward, her boots scraping against the rock. She gasps, loud and performative as she rights herself, spinning on her toe like a dancer and throwing him a bright, dazzled smile. "Well, that seems handy," she says, her eyes dropping with intent to the bracers on his wrists, voice as honey-sweet and loaded as she can make it. "I can think of a few uses for that kind of reach." Because if they’re dancing this close to old memories, she might as well press her palms to the glass.
And just to make sure he doesn't get too smug, she tosses her dagger—not at him, but down near his feet. Then a second joins it as she recalls the first, before throwing it again, and so on, as if meaning to make him dance across Starfall by avoiding her daggers.
2/4
She’s mid-turn when she catches the blur of his hand moving, the flicker of motion sharp enough that her instincts twitch just a hair too late. Something catches at the back of her knee—projected force, not touch—and it sends her stutter-stepping forward, her boots scraping against the rock. She gasps, loud and performative as she rights herself, spinning on her toe like a dancer and throwing him a bright, dazzled smile. "Well, that seems handy," she says, her eyes dropping with intent to the bracers on his wrists, voice as honey-sweet and loaded as she can make it. "I can think of a few uses for that kind of reach." Because if they’re dancing this close to old memories, she might as well press her palms to the glass.
And just to make sure he doesn't get too smug, she tosses her dagger—not at him, but down near his feet. Then a second joins it as she recalls the first, before throwing it again, and so on, as if meaning to make him dance across Starfall by avoiding her daggers.
2/4
