flora
Flora’s grin sparks instinctively at Maea’s earnestness, a flicker of something real that tugs at the corner of her mouth before it curdles into a grimace. "Oh, I know," she says quickly, boots crunching through a patch of cracked leaves as she pulls her scarf tighter. "Believe me, I know." The shiver that ripples down her spine isn’t entirely from the wind. Her arms fold across her chest, trying to hold in the memory more than the chill. "If you’ve already been infected..you can see it." Her voice dips, low and hushed, like she’s worried the woods might overhear.
She throws a glance at Maea and sighs. "Every time I’ve seen Liam since he got infected, it’s like talking to a void monster wearing his skin. All...tongues and eyeballs and dripping." She makes a squirming motion with her fingers, nose wrinkling. "It’s revolting. Like a nightmare that tries to be charming."
But the disgust melts—unevenly—into a crooked, almost sheepish smile. "Anyway. I saw you two together, at my dads’ anniversary thing? Are you guys a thing now?" The question floats for a moment before Maea’s earlier one catches up to her, and she exhales slowly, watching her breath fog as it fades between the branches. "Being back’s...complicated, I guess?" Her eyes flick up toward the nearest lantern, its light caught gently in the peeling bark. "Half of me remembers the good stuff. Races through the Wildwood. Carving names into trees. Holding hands beneath the leaves."
Sighing, Flora regards the boughs above. "The other half just remembers getting jumped by the Family. Or fighting with Jack." She lifts a hand to flick a curled leaf off her shoulder. "So yeah. Complicated." The words are softer now, quieter, but they don’t lose their shape.
"How about you? When were you in the Grounds last?"
She throws a glance at Maea and sighs. "Every time I’ve seen Liam since he got infected, it’s like talking to a void monster wearing his skin. All...tongues and eyeballs and dripping." She makes a squirming motion with her fingers, nose wrinkling. "It’s revolting. Like a nightmare that tries to be charming."
But the disgust melts—unevenly—into a crooked, almost sheepish smile. "Anyway. I saw you two together, at my dads’ anniversary thing? Are you guys a thing now?" The question floats for a moment before Maea’s earlier one catches up to her, and she exhales slowly, watching her breath fog as it fades between the branches. "Being back’s...complicated, I guess?" Her eyes flick up toward the nearest lantern, its light caught gently in the peeling bark. "Half of me remembers the good stuff. Races through the Wildwood. Carving names into trees. Holding hands beneath the leaves."
Sighing, Flora regards the boughs above. "The other half just remembers getting jumped by the Family. Or fighting with Jack." She lifts a hand to flick a curled leaf off her shoulder. "So yeah. Complicated." The words are softer now, quieter, but they don’t lose their shape.
"How about you? When were you in the Grounds last?"
what doesn't kill me makes
me want you more
me want you more
