Flora
If Flora were a telepath, she’d argue fiercely against Niki’s assessment of himself. She’d insist that there would be people who’d pick him out of a crowd, that mystery and dry wit go a lot further than washboard abs when it comes to catching someone’s attention. But she isn’t, so instead she settles for a look that says all of that without a single word: soft and fond, just a little smug, because she knows the truth even if he doesn’t.
"Mmm...raw chicken is a pretty good bribe," she muses, visibly weighing Spice’s patience against the promise of meat. "That or mango slices. Depends on her mood." Her smile tilts, knowing full well that her little frost-dragon has the temperament of a moody princess who expects rewards for merely existing. "I bet if the spirits hold them for her to snack on, she'll sit long enough to be measured."
The smile vanishes quickly enough when they reach the living room only to find..nothing. No blanket. No rocking chair. Just the unsettling quiet of a house that knows exactly what it’s doing. Flora tips her head back and wails, dragging out the "puuuuuuuuleeeeeeeeeease,"like she’s been mortally wounded before dramatically collapsing her arms against her sides. When nothing appears except the smug echo of her own voice, she straightens again with a grumble and spins on her heel to face Niki.
"That blanket is non-negotiable," she declares with all the gravity of a general preparing for war. Turning slowly, she sweeps her gaze across the room and narrows her eyes like she’s daring the spirits to withhold their price. "All right you lot," she says to the air, "what’s it gonna take? A bribe? A song? A trade of equal coziness? Name your price."
"Mmm...raw chicken is a pretty good bribe," she muses, visibly weighing Spice’s patience against the promise of meat. "That or mango slices. Depends on her mood." Her smile tilts, knowing full well that her little frost-dragon has the temperament of a moody princess who expects rewards for merely existing. "I bet if the spirits hold them for her to snack on, she'll sit long enough to be measured."
The smile vanishes quickly enough when they reach the living room only to find..nothing. No blanket. No rocking chair. Just the unsettling quiet of a house that knows exactly what it’s doing. Flora tips her head back and wails, dragging out the "puuuuuuuuleeeeeeeeeease,"like she’s been mortally wounded before dramatically collapsing her arms against her sides. When nothing appears except the smug echo of her own voice, she straightens again with a grumble and spins on her heel to face Niki.
"That blanket is non-negotiable," she declares with all the gravity of a general preparing for war. Turning slowly, she sweeps her gaze across the room and narrows her eyes like she’s daring the spirits to withhold their price. "All right you lot," she says to the air, "what’s it gonna take? A bribe? A song? A trade of equal coziness? Name your price."
passion is a passing thing, it's accidental chemistry
caught up in a feelin', it can be deceivin'.
this is like breaking for me
caught up in a feelin', it can be deceivin'.
this is like breaking for me
Code stolen from Queen Sky
