Flora
She doesn’t move to kneel beside the wounded soldier. Flora may have impulse issues, but even she knows better than to fall for that particular bit of theatre. Especially not when the gummy worms work their sugary necromancy exactly as expected, resurrecting him from the linoleum like some floor-bound Lazarus.
By the time he’s staggered his way upright and leaned in with that lazy lean and his tongue stuck out like a floppy shoehorn, she’s already tearing open the bag again. "Gods, the things I do for you," she mutters with an exaggerated roll of her eyes that’s thoroughly undone by the small, helpless smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.
For all her sass, though, she doesn’t tease this one. Doesn’t shove it too far back or aim for his tonsils, doesn’t even try to surprise him with some little prank halfway through. Instead, she simply offers him the worm—pinched between thumb and forefinger like some sacred sacrifice—and lays it gently on his tongue. "I accept your surrender,"
Glancing at the casualties strewn across her floor, she heaves a sigh that only the most long-suffering of women could achieve. "I should have known you’d make a mess," she mutters, moving to stand at the base of the stairs. "Spice!"
The white dragon appears like a small frosty goddess, haloed by a shimmer of cold and all the attitude of a pampered cat. Flora gestures toward the scattered toppings with a hopeful tilt of her chin. "Does any of this interest you?" The look she gets in return is pure disdain. A huff of cold mist, a turn of her elegant little head, and Spice disappears with a flick of her tail that makes her thoughts very clear. "Mmh. That’s what I figured," Flora sighs, shoulders slumping theatrically as she pads down the short hallway. "Dustpan it is."
Before she disappears fully from sight, she calls back over her shoulder, "Can you check and make sure the cheese isn't burning? And don’t burn yourself—mitts are in the drawer," And even if he couldn’t see her smirk, it’s in the lilt of her voice. The way it curls sweetly around the warning, somewhere between teasing and care.
By the time he’s staggered his way upright and leaned in with that lazy lean and his tongue stuck out like a floppy shoehorn, she’s already tearing open the bag again. "Gods, the things I do for you," she mutters with an exaggerated roll of her eyes that’s thoroughly undone by the small, helpless smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.
For all her sass, though, she doesn’t tease this one. Doesn’t shove it too far back or aim for his tonsils, doesn’t even try to surprise him with some little prank halfway through. Instead, she simply offers him the worm—pinched between thumb and forefinger like some sacred sacrifice—and lays it gently on his tongue. "I accept your surrender,"
Glancing at the casualties strewn across her floor, she heaves a sigh that only the most long-suffering of women could achieve. "I should have known you’d make a mess," she mutters, moving to stand at the base of the stairs. "Spice!"
The white dragon appears like a small frosty goddess, haloed by a shimmer of cold and all the attitude of a pampered cat. Flora gestures toward the scattered toppings with a hopeful tilt of her chin. "Does any of this interest you?" The look she gets in return is pure disdain. A huff of cold mist, a turn of her elegant little head, and Spice disappears with a flick of her tail that makes her thoughts very clear. "Mmh. That’s what I figured," Flora sighs, shoulders slumping theatrically as she pads down the short hallway. "Dustpan it is."
Before she disappears fully from sight, she calls back over her shoulder, "Can you check and make sure the cheese isn't burning? And don’t burn yourself—mitts are in the drawer," And even if he couldn’t see her smirk, it’s in the lilt of her voice. The way it curls sweetly around the warning, somewhere between teasing and care.
I hope you're sweating the bigger stuff,
finding some peace in an honest love
Hope you stop when you've had enough & throw the towel in
finding some peace in an honest love
Hope you stop when you've had enough & throw the towel in
Code stolen from Queen Sky
