we write out the ends on our palms, then forget to read
Flora bounces her eyebrows at Spice, her grin turning sharp with challenge as she watches Zavien adjust his grip and flow into that elegant strike. "Oohhhhhhh," she echoes with theatrical awe, nodding as if she’s just unlocked the secrets of the universe. "Okay, okay. I think I get it."
Adjusting her stance, she spreads her hands wider along the staff and pivots her boots into the sand with exaggerated readiness. "Alright, you,' she says to Spice, voice low and ominous in the most unserious way possible. "I’mma getcha this time."
She steps into the swing like she means it, her sweater stretching slightly across her shoulders as she lifts and drives the staff up in one clean arc. Spice flutters just out of reach—again—so Flora twists sharply and follows through with a second swing, lower this time, aiming to catch the little dragon in the middle of her smug mid-hover.
But Spice, clearly thriving under the sudden attention, lets out a delighted chirp as she spins out of range. Her wings fan wide and, with the kind of dramatic flair Flora would normally be proud of, the dragon exhales a sudden, glittering blast of icy air. "Spice!" Flora yelps, throwing her staff up like a shield.
It does not help.
The frost rushes past the wooden shaft and hits her square in the chest and neck, tousling her ponytail and painting a delicate shimmer of frost across the curve of her jaw. She yelps again, more indignant than hurt, stamping her boot into the sand as she lowers the staff. "Okay rude," she coughs, shivering as she wipes at the chill creeping down her collar, though her tone is nothing but affectionate.
2/4
Adjusting her stance, she spreads her hands wider along the staff and pivots her boots into the sand with exaggerated readiness. "Alright, you,' she says to Spice, voice low and ominous in the most unserious way possible. "I’mma getcha this time."
She steps into the swing like she means it, her sweater stretching slightly across her shoulders as she lifts and drives the staff up in one clean arc. Spice flutters just out of reach—again—so Flora twists sharply and follows through with a second swing, lower this time, aiming to catch the little dragon in the middle of her smug mid-hover.
But Spice, clearly thriving under the sudden attention, lets out a delighted chirp as she spins out of range. Her wings fan wide and, with the kind of dramatic flair Flora would normally be proud of, the dragon exhales a sudden, glittering blast of icy air. "Spice!" Flora yelps, throwing her staff up like a shield.
It does not help.
The frost rushes past the wooden shaft and hits her square in the chest and neck, tousling her ponytail and painting a delicate shimmer of frost across the curve of her jaw. She yelps again, more indignant than hurt, stamping her boot into the sand as she lowers the staff. "Okay rude," she coughs, shivering as she wipes at the chill creeping down her collar, though her tone is nothing but affectionate.
2/4
