flora
Flora watches as Soh flops back onto the blanket, and for a moment, she doesn’t say a word. Just looks at her. With the last light of sunset catching the soft gold of her hair, fanned out like a crown on the worn fabric, Sohalia looks impossibly lovely. Not in the glamorous, done-up way she sometimes is, but in a way that feels real. Raw. Her eyes are a little too tired, her lips caught somewhere between wistfulness and weariness, but she’s still—always—kind. Generous. Good.
And Flora knows, with a certainty that doesn’t need questioning, that one day Soh will look back on this moment and shrug it off as just a rough patch. Just a season. But she also knows that while you’re in it, the ache feels permanent. Like maybe there’s no version of you left on the other side.
She shakes her head gently. "Well, with me," she says softly, "you don’t have to pretend to care about the things the world thinks you should care about." Her tone isn’t defensive or pitying, just honest and open. A kind of permission, if Soh needs it.
Reaching out, she gently adjusts one of Sohalia’s golden curls where it’s tangled in the edge of the blanket. A small smile curves her lips, affectionate and faintly amused, and for a moment she just lets her hand linger, as if anchoring her friend to the moment. Then her smile tugs sideways, thoughtful. "I bet giving the reins to Zavien probably leaves a bitter taste in your mouth sometimes, huh?" she says, the words quiet but not unkind. "And the Koa of it all definitely didn’t help."
The last sliver of the sun slips below the horizon, and as the sky turns indigo and star-pricked above them, Flora glances back with a sudden spark in her eyes. "What if," she says slowly, "we go see one of the gods, and ask for something ridiculous. Like, a really silly quest. Nothing to do with the Family or trauma or the fate of the world on the line. Just something stupid and magical to get us out of our own heads for a while." Her brows bounce, and she grins. "We could quest for a magic carpet, or a comb that always makes your hair perfectly curled, or mascara that really is waterproof."
And Flora knows, with a certainty that doesn’t need questioning, that one day Soh will look back on this moment and shrug it off as just a rough patch. Just a season. But she also knows that while you’re in it, the ache feels permanent. Like maybe there’s no version of you left on the other side.
She shakes her head gently. "Well, with me," she says softly, "you don’t have to pretend to care about the things the world thinks you should care about." Her tone isn’t defensive or pitying, just honest and open. A kind of permission, if Soh needs it.
Reaching out, she gently adjusts one of Sohalia’s golden curls where it’s tangled in the edge of the blanket. A small smile curves her lips, affectionate and faintly amused, and for a moment she just lets her hand linger, as if anchoring her friend to the moment. Then her smile tugs sideways, thoughtful. "I bet giving the reins to Zavien probably leaves a bitter taste in your mouth sometimes, huh?" she says, the words quiet but not unkind. "And the Koa of it all definitely didn’t help."
The last sliver of the sun slips below the horizon, and as the sky turns indigo and star-pricked above them, Flora glances back with a sudden spark in her eyes. "What if," she says slowly, "we go see one of the gods, and ask for something ridiculous. Like, a really silly quest. Nothing to do with the Family or trauma or the fate of the world on the line. Just something stupid and magical to get us out of our own heads for a while." Her brows bounce, and she grins. "We could quest for a magic carpet, or a comb that always makes your hair perfectly curled, or mascara that really is waterproof."
& someone else lights up the room; people love an ingénue
will you still want me when i'm nothing new?
will you still want me when i'm nothing new?
