flora
Flora smiles up at him, soft and amused. "My Nonna isn’t the type to play those kinds of games," she says, her tone edged with warmth and something a little more knowing. "If she wanted to punish you, she’d do it herself, and I promise it wouldn’t be subtle." Her brows rise meaningfully, every inch of her expression speaking from lived experience. Vai had never been one for cryptic cruelty when a straightforward hex would do.
Neron's bow catches her entirely off guard. It shouldn’t affect her—she’s with Kaisel, and very happily so—but still, there’s something undeniably charming in the way he moves, in the way the compliment lands so smoothly. The flutter of surprise in her stomach isn’t desire, not really, it’s memory. Of a different version of herself, of the way it felt to be looked at like that, by someone polished and distant and entirely unexpected. Her lashes dip low as she tries to rein in the smile tugging at her mouth, but it still curves despite her best efforts. "You look as handsome as ever," she says, the words light but true, her tone smooth with appreciation rather than suggestion.
Sliding her arm through his as they begin to walk, Flora feels the warmth of him against the inside of her wrist, and is just beginning to settle into the rhythm of their steps when he speaks again. "Shut up," she breathes, the words half-gasped as she slows instinctively, her head turning sharply to read his expression. "Maea?" She stares at him for a heartbeat longer, the disbelief plain across her features, before she pulls a face and narrows her eyes with deliberate suspicion. "Were you two...friends?" she asks, but her expression makes it clear that friends is probably not the word she’s actually wondering about.
Flora's eyes flick toward the slant of his scar again, and her brows lift with unmistakable recognition. "Uh huh," she says, dragging the syllable out slowly."You mean a suspiciously pale hawk?" The urge to apologise blooms before she can stop it, and while she knows it’s absurd—he’s clearly healed and also dead—it takes real effort to swallow it back. Instead, she wrinkles her nose again. "How did you know him?"
Neron's bow catches her entirely off guard. It shouldn’t affect her—she’s with Kaisel, and very happily so—but still, there’s something undeniably charming in the way he moves, in the way the compliment lands so smoothly. The flutter of surprise in her stomach isn’t desire, not really, it’s memory. Of a different version of herself, of the way it felt to be looked at like that, by someone polished and distant and entirely unexpected. Her lashes dip low as she tries to rein in the smile tugging at her mouth, but it still curves despite her best efforts. "You look as handsome as ever," she says, the words light but true, her tone smooth with appreciation rather than suggestion.
Sliding her arm through his as they begin to walk, Flora feels the warmth of him against the inside of her wrist, and is just beginning to settle into the rhythm of their steps when he speaks again. "Shut up," she breathes, the words half-gasped as she slows instinctively, her head turning sharply to read his expression. "Maea?" She stares at him for a heartbeat longer, the disbelief plain across her features, before she pulls a face and narrows her eyes with deliberate suspicion. "Were you two...friends?" she asks, but her expression makes it clear that friends is probably not the word she’s actually wondering about.
Flora's eyes flick toward the slant of his scar again, and her brows lift with unmistakable recognition. "Uh huh," she says, dragging the syllable out slowly."You mean a suspiciously pale hawk?" The urge to apologise blooms before she can stop it, and while she knows it’s absurd—he’s clearly healed and also dead—it takes real effort to swallow it back. Instead, she wrinkles her nose again. "How did you know him?"
you don't know that you're living til' you're carrying scars
you're either falling in love or falling apart
you're either falling in love or falling apart
