flora
For once, Flora doesn’t have a clever retort on her tongue. Her mouth opens, then closes, then parts again in a flutter of indecision, the breath catching behind her teeth like a startled bird. She blinks, lashes fluttering in a way that would feel theatrical if it weren’t so unintentional. Floundering like a fish just snagged from the surf, she finally clears her throat and reaches blindly for composure. "I’m sure," she manages, the words slightly airier than intended, "you’d make an excellent teacher."
Her wineglass is a lifeline, cool and familiar in her hand, even as her cheeks bloom with heat that has nothing to do with the alcohol. Absolutely nothing. She swirls the contents lightly, watching the way the palk liquid paints the glass, trying not to imagine it painting anything else.
"Besides," she continues with a casual shrug that doesn’t reach her flushed cheeks, "I could still do the planning." She glances at him, mouth quirking into something sly again. "My mother’s one of Sex-Frey’s demigods. And she and my soon-to-be stepfather own the House of Midnight, so...let’s just say I’ve got access to more of the services than your average patron."
Her aqua eyes glint over the rim of her glass as she sips, the look unmistakably feline. "I’m sure that could be arranged," she murmurs, voice lower now, her smile tugging deeper as she leans back in her seat. "Though I’d rather not wait another five years and a second death in between. If that happens, my imagination might run wild again…" She lets the pause linger, her gaze sweeping over him like a hand. "And I'm not sure you'd be able to live up to my expectations a second time."
Her wineglass is a lifeline, cool and familiar in her hand, even as her cheeks bloom with heat that has nothing to do with the alcohol. Absolutely nothing. She swirls the contents lightly, watching the way the palk liquid paints the glass, trying not to imagine it painting anything else.
"Besides," she continues with a casual shrug that doesn’t reach her flushed cheeks, "I could still do the planning." She glances at him, mouth quirking into something sly again. "My mother’s one of Sex-Frey’s demigods. And she and my soon-to-be stepfather own the House of Midnight, so...let’s just say I’ve got access to more of the services than your average patron."
Her aqua eyes glint over the rim of her glass as she sips, the look unmistakably feline. "I’m sure that could be arranged," she murmurs, voice lower now, her smile tugging deeper as she leans back in her seat. "Though I’d rather not wait another five years and a second death in between. If that happens, my imagination might run wild again…" She lets the pause linger, her gaze sweeping over him like a hand. "And I'm not sure you'd be able to live up to my expectations a second time."
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
