flora
"Ahhhh," Flora says with a soft little nod, as if that fills in some missing piece of his story she hadn’t known she was waiting for. Her nose wrinkles soon after, expression scrunching with theatrical distaste. "I don’t know which sounds worse, arriving alone, or arriving in Halo," she says, dragging the word out like it tastes cold.
Her eyes widen playfully as he straightens and adjusts his collar, and she lets out a delighted laugh, one hand pressing to her chest as if winded by the audacity. "You could have just kept making life look great, you know," she teases, before her expression softens slightly, her lips twitching as the thought settles.
Turning her gaze back to him rather than continuing her silent search for any lurking overprotective demigods, she lifts her glass and lets it chime softly against his, the sound bright and fleeting. Then, without a word, she reaches for a cracker and spreads a generous layer of goat cheese across its surface, topping it with a sliver of something marinated and glossy before popping it into her mouth.
The sound she makes is immediate and entirely indulgent; a low hum of satisfaction as her eyes close briefly, head tipping back just slightly in appreciation. She chews, swallows, then nods slowly with a gesture toward the board, her expression turning commanding in the most elegant way. "You have to try that one," she says with finality, as if anything else on the plate might now pale in comparison.
Her eyes widen playfully as he straightens and adjusts his collar, and she lets out a delighted laugh, one hand pressing to her chest as if winded by the audacity. "You could have just kept making life look great, you know," she teases, before her expression softens slightly, her lips twitching as the thought settles.
Turning her gaze back to him rather than continuing her silent search for any lurking overprotective demigods, she lifts her glass and lets it chime softly against his, the sound bright and fleeting. Then, without a word, she reaches for a cracker and spreads a generous layer of goat cheese across its surface, topping it with a sliver of something marinated and glossy before popping it into her mouth.
The sound she makes is immediate and entirely indulgent; a low hum of satisfaction as her eyes close briefly, head tipping back just slightly in appreciation. She chews, swallows, then nods slowly with a gesture toward the board, her expression turning commanding in the most elegant way. "You have to try that one," she says with finality, as if anything else on the plate might now pale in comparison.
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
