flora
"Count on it," Flora says with a flash of a grin, tilting her wineglass in mock salute. "I’ll make sure Vai gets your next invitation so that she can make sure Remi is there ready and waiting to open the door for you." Her tone is all warm amusement, but there’s an edge of fond mischief in it too; she’ll never pass up the opportunity to arrange a little coerced use of her dad's abilities.
As Neron calls himself a cad and a bastard, Flora’s laugh is low and knowing, swirling gently into her next words. "Oh please," she drawls, plucking up her spoon with a curl of her fingers. "The last person I dated took platinum-tier in the bastard department. I doubt you could even qualify for the semi-finals compared to him." And though her stomach knots reflexively at the memory—at flame-blue eyes and the weight of words that she'll never be able to unhear—she keeps her tone light, even fond. Jack is still a scar she traces with polished nails, but she’s not bleeding from it regularly anymore.
She opens her mouth to explain—something short, something smooth—but the arrival of the sundae steals the moment. The scent of dark chocolate and caramel curls through the air, and she leans back with an appreciative hum as the dish is placed before them, ornate spoons nestled like an invitation for gluttony.
Scooping up a small bite, she shrugs, the motion casual, almost flippant. "For what it’s worth, I didn’t know what I was coming out for. Vai told me to dress nice and meet someone at the pier." Her eyes sparkle as she glances at him over the rim of her spoon. "And when you said you were only here ‘cause she thought I needed cheering up....I thought maybe that’s all she meant. Maybe she forgot about the prince charming part, or saw I didn't need it anymore." Or that she disapproved of Kaisel, but Flora chose to keep that to herself.
But then Neron dares to mention a goodnight kiss, and Flora's cheeks flush prettily. However at the mention of keeping his secrets close, the Doubletake will just roll her eyes. "Well," she huffs, theatrical indignation blooming as she clinks her spoon against his with flair. "As the only living person with the power to find ways to satisfy your mysterious cravings, you’re only hurting yourself by playing coy."
As Neron calls himself a cad and a bastard, Flora’s laugh is low and knowing, swirling gently into her next words. "Oh please," she drawls, plucking up her spoon with a curl of her fingers. "The last person I dated took platinum-tier in the bastard department. I doubt you could even qualify for the semi-finals compared to him." And though her stomach knots reflexively at the memory—at flame-blue eyes and the weight of words that she'll never be able to unhear—she keeps her tone light, even fond. Jack is still a scar she traces with polished nails, but she’s not bleeding from it regularly anymore.
She opens her mouth to explain—something short, something smooth—but the arrival of the sundae steals the moment. The scent of dark chocolate and caramel curls through the air, and she leans back with an appreciative hum as the dish is placed before them, ornate spoons nestled like an invitation for gluttony.
Scooping up a small bite, she shrugs, the motion casual, almost flippant. "For what it’s worth, I didn’t know what I was coming out for. Vai told me to dress nice and meet someone at the pier." Her eyes sparkle as she glances at him over the rim of her spoon. "And when you said you were only here ‘cause she thought I needed cheering up....I thought maybe that’s all she meant. Maybe she forgot about the prince charming part, or saw I didn't need it anymore." Or that she disapproved of Kaisel, but Flora chose to keep that to herself.
But then Neron dares to mention a goodnight kiss, and Flora's cheeks flush prettily. However at the mention of keeping his secrets close, the Doubletake will just roll her eyes. "Well," she huffs, theatrical indignation blooming as she clinks her spoon against his with flair. "As the only living person with the power to find ways to satisfy your mysterious cravings, you’re only hurting yourself by playing coy."
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
