& if you never bleed you're never gonna grow
The palm is still quivering from Theea’s last throw when the shimmer of invisibility peels away like a curtain tugged aside. Flora appears where a blink ago there was only space, curls catching what little light filters through the restless air. Her grin is quick and mischievous, like she’s been standing there all along, watching.
"I’ve tried glaring at plenty of daggers to make them land where I wanted," she offers, tone warm with mock-seriousness, as if this is sage advice from one knife-thrower to another. "Doesn’t work. Stubborn little bastards." She lifts her hand, a flash of feathered steel tumbling end over end before she catches it neat, the motion so casual it might as well be part of her breathing.
All around them the islands drift, edges folding and stretching, bits of land merging and parting in slow, untrustworthy rhythms. The palm itself seems to lean differently each time Flora glances at it, as if it too is in on the game, conspiring with the rest of the archipelago. Flora tips her head toward it with an amused quirk of her lips, eyes bright with challenge.
"Spice and I were just out for a stroll," Flora explains with a grin, before nodding toward the palm. "Do you want a hand? Throwing sharp things is sorta my thing, but if you're a trial-and-error girlie, I totally get that."
"I’ve tried glaring at plenty of daggers to make them land where I wanted," she offers, tone warm with mock-seriousness, as if this is sage advice from one knife-thrower to another. "Doesn’t work. Stubborn little bastards." She lifts her hand, a flash of feathered steel tumbling end over end before she catches it neat, the motion so casual it might as well be part of her breathing.
All around them the islands drift, edges folding and stretching, bits of land merging and parting in slow, untrustworthy rhythms. The palm itself seems to lean differently each time Flora glances at it, as if it too is in on the game, conspiring with the rest of the archipelago. Flora tips her head toward it with an amused quirk of her lips, eyes bright with challenge.
"Spice and I were just out for a stroll," Flora explains with a grin, before nodding toward the palm. "Do you want a hand? Throwing sharp things is sorta my thing, but if you're a trial-and-error girlie, I totally get that."
