candlewax & polaroids on the hardwood floor
Flora shakes her head softly, curls catching the wind as she leans against his arm. "You don’t need to apologize," she murmurs, though her eyes narrow playfully a moment later. "Speaking of piloting your skyship, though—does that mean Everest is going back with you?" The thought lingers only a second before his wardrobe idea brightens her mood, and she grins wide, teeth flashing. "Trinkets appearing out of nowhere? Ditto. Honestly, can you imagine if we’d had a magic wardrobe when we were kids?" A laugh bubbles up, quick and warm. "We’d have been unbeatable at hide and seek."
The sound fades as her gaze catches on what lies ahead, Spice’s trill leading them down the last stretch of path. The shrine rises out of the stone like something forgotten yet stubbornly alive; an ornate fountain, its waters still running impossibly clear despite the years. A shiver runs through her, sharp and sudden, her grin slipping away as if the sanctity of the place has reached out and pressed cold fingers against the back of her neck.
Without speaking, she steps forward, tugging her sweater tighter around her frame as she begins brushing aside dried leaves and windblown debris that have gathered around the base. Spice swoops low in a bright arc, the beating of her small wings scattering dust from the carved stone, until the fountain gleams faintly under its veil of time.
The sound fades as her gaze catches on what lies ahead, Spice’s trill leading them down the last stretch of path. The shrine rises out of the stone like something forgotten yet stubbornly alive; an ornate fountain, its waters still running impossibly clear despite the years. A shiver runs through her, sharp and sudden, her grin slipping away as if the sanctity of the place has reached out and pressed cold fingers against the back of her neck.
Without speaking, she steps forward, tugging her sweater tighter around her frame as she begins brushing aside dried leaves and windblown debris that have gathered around the base. Spice swoops low in a bright arc, the beating of her small wings scattering dust from the carved stone, until the fountain gleams faintly under its veil of time.
