your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand
For Flora, slipping back into a vaguely flirtatious rhythm with Koa is as instinctive as breathing. She never means to act on it again, but like him, a part of her heart will always be scorched with the mark of all the firsts they shared together. The cracks and marks he left behind haven’t been neatly filled in with gold or anything so poetic, but enough time has passed for her to be able to look back on it without the sharp edges catching.
She laughs as he starts to call her out on her aim, only for the realisation to dawn on him mid-sentence. The sight of him dodging, stomping, and hopping to avoid the barrage is more satisfying than she’ll admit out loud. When he finally manages to snag one of her daggers and fling it back in her direction, she lifts her palm to catch it in midair, the recall magic tugging it gently and obediently into her grip.
Brows arched, she grins at him. "Ohhh, so we’re playing dirty now?" The words are light, but there’s a challenge glinting in her eyes as her fingers toy with the hilt. Before he can answer, her hand drifts down to the gold band at her finger. She twists it, and in the space of a blink, she’s gone—dissolving into nothing more than the faint scrape of boots against stone. She dances a few steps to the side, her laughter now disembodied, echoing faintly against Starfall’s porous walls.
And then her blade flies again—this time from empty air—its gleam cutting toward him as if conjured from the island itself.
3/4
She laughs as he starts to call her out on her aim, only for the realisation to dawn on him mid-sentence. The sight of him dodging, stomping, and hopping to avoid the barrage is more satisfying than she’ll admit out loud. When he finally manages to snag one of her daggers and fling it back in her direction, she lifts her palm to catch it in midair, the recall magic tugging it gently and obediently into her grip.
Brows arched, she grins at him. "Ohhh, so we’re playing dirty now?" The words are light, but there’s a challenge glinting in her eyes as her fingers toy with the hilt. Before he can answer, her hand drifts down to the gold band at her finger. She twists it, and in the space of a blink, she’s gone—dissolving into nothing more than the faint scrape of boots against stone. She dances a few steps to the side, her laughter now disembodied, echoing faintly against Starfall’s porous walls.
And then her blade flies again—this time from empty air—its gleam cutting toward him as if conjured from the island itself.
3/4
