flowers bloom in the rain
I start back toward my spot, the ground beneath me tilting in that subtle, untrustworthy way the isles always do. The edges of land fold and stretch like they’re breathing, one strip of sand breaking away even as another drifts closer, the whole archipelago in constant restless motion. I’m still thinking about the crooked line of my knives when Flora simply—appears. One blink there’s nothing, the next there’s her.
I outright scream. The sound rips from me sharp and startled as I stumble back, hand clutching my chest where my heart is hammering like it’s about to break free. “Shit—” The word spills, and then I’m laughing, breathless, my lips shaping into a smile. “Hi, Flora.”
She’s already grinning when a feather of steel flickers into her hand, catching the air with a gleam. She twirls it like it’s no more trouble than spinning a coin, each motion precise, unhurried. My smirk comes easy at that, properly impressed. Gods, it’s a miracle my own hands aren’t nothing but scar tissue from all the times I’ve botched that same trick.
The palm tree I’d been aiming at sways again, quivering in tune with the shifting ground, as if it’s conspiring with the rest of the isle to remind me of my crooked throws. My gaze slips from it back to Flora and her blade, and I nod, grinning with a little wry tilt of my head. [say[“Yeah,” I admit, voice warm but earnest. “Pointers and practice would be great. Especially from you.”
I outright scream. The sound rips from me sharp and startled as I stumble back, hand clutching my chest where my heart is hammering like it’s about to break free. “Shit—” The word spills, and then I’m laughing, breathless, my lips shaping into a smile. “Hi, Flora.”
She’s already grinning when a feather of steel flickers into her hand, catching the air with a gleam. She twirls it like it’s no more trouble than spinning a coin, each motion precise, unhurried. My smirk comes easy at that, properly impressed. Gods, it’s a miracle my own hands aren’t nothing but scar tissue from all the times I’ve botched that same trick.
The palm tree I’d been aiming at sways again, quivering in tune with the shifting ground, as if it’s conspiring with the rest of the isle to remind me of my crooked throws. My gaze slips from it back to Flora and her blade, and I nod, grinning with a little wry tilt of my head. [say[“Yeah,” I admit, voice warm but earnest. “Pointers and practice would be great. Especially from you.”
Theea
growing up is a pain
