flora
The sound that bursts from her is bright and unrestrained, laughter tumbling over itself as her nose wrinkles in mock-scandalised delight. She closes the distance easily, gold bracelets chiming against each other as she reaches for his hands, curling her fingers around his and tugging him down toward her. It’s only fair, after all—if he’s going to loom like a sea god, she’ll drag him back down to mortal height—and she rises onto her toes so she can press a kiss to the warm plane of his cheek.
"Uneventful?" she repeats, the word lilting with disbelief. Mischief sparks in her aqua eyes as she tips her head. "Clearly your mistake was not inviting me to be your date. I could’ve guaranteed at least one dramatic interruption." The grin she gives him is all teeth and sunshine, but it softens a moment later as the conversation turns to her own news.
She exhales a theatrical sigh, the kind meant to be performed for an audience, but there’s a hairline crack in the brightness, something fragile beneath the show. "I handed the Hanged Man over to the Marin siblings," she says, voice still warm but tinged with the faintest note of loss, "and...I’ve decided it’s time to move out of the house Enzo and I first settled in when we came here." Her gaze drifts past him to where the sea breeze threads through the garden like a familiar ghost. With a vague sweep of her hand toward the shore beyond, she adds, "So I’m building myself something bigger. A mansion. Right on the beach." The last words are deliberately buoyant, like she’s daring him to challenge her extravagance.
"Uneventful?" she repeats, the word lilting with disbelief. Mischief sparks in her aqua eyes as she tips her head. "Clearly your mistake was not inviting me to be your date. I could’ve guaranteed at least one dramatic interruption." The grin she gives him is all teeth and sunshine, but it softens a moment later as the conversation turns to her own news.
She exhales a theatrical sigh, the kind meant to be performed for an audience, but there’s a hairline crack in the brightness, something fragile beneath the show. "I handed the Hanged Man over to the Marin siblings," she says, voice still warm but tinged with the faintest note of loss, "and...I’ve decided it’s time to move out of the house Enzo and I first settled in when we came here." Her gaze drifts past him to where the sea breeze threads through the garden like a familiar ghost. With a vague sweep of her hand toward the shore beyond, she adds, "So I’m building myself something bigger. A mansion. Right on the beach." The last words are deliberately buoyant, like she’s daring him to challenge her extravagance.
I can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland
