we write out the ends on our palms, then forget to read
Flora snickers, warm and unfiltered, at Zavien’s salute. "Captain Flora has a very dramatic ring to it," she muses, twirling her staff with enough flourish to prove she’s already halfway there. "I’ll start designing the uniform now."
But then Sol takes his hit like a true thespian, and she drops into character immediately, flinging one hand over her brow as the other clutches the staff. "We’ll go to Mort himself," she gasps, staggering back a step in mock anguish, "and beg for your return." Her voice trembles with performative grief as the golden dragon spirals down in his glorious, overacted demise, and she barely keeps a straight face as Spice lets out a draconic cackle from above.
Clearly unfazed by Zavien’s whirling staff, Spice blasts the makeshift shield with another icy gust. The cold air hits the spinning wood and fans out, sending a surprisingly pleasant breeze cascading across the field. Flora lets out a bright laugh as it tousles her curls, her sweater ruffling gently in the chill.
Once Spice finally pauses to breathe, Flora nudges Zavien with a playful bump of her hip, her staff tapping lightly against his leg. "That would work super during Longheat," she teases, nodding toward Spice, who gives a triumphant trill and preens like she invented portable climate control.
Turning to Zavien, Flora's grin softens just enough to show something genuine beneath the mischief. "Y’know," she says, wrinkling her nose in an endearingly crooked way, "I think we make a pretty good team."
But then Sol takes his hit like a true thespian, and she drops into character immediately, flinging one hand over her brow as the other clutches the staff. "We’ll go to Mort himself," she gasps, staggering back a step in mock anguish, "and beg for your return." Her voice trembles with performative grief as the golden dragon spirals down in his glorious, overacted demise, and she barely keeps a straight face as Spice lets out a draconic cackle from above.
Clearly unfazed by Zavien’s whirling staff, Spice blasts the makeshift shield with another icy gust. The cold air hits the spinning wood and fans out, sending a surprisingly pleasant breeze cascading across the field. Flora lets out a bright laugh as it tousles her curls, her sweater ruffling gently in the chill.
Once Spice finally pauses to breathe, Flora nudges Zavien with a playful bump of her hip, her staff tapping lightly against his leg. "That would work super during Longheat," she teases, nodding toward Spice, who gives a triumphant trill and preens like she invented portable climate control.
Turning to Zavien, Flora's grin softens just enough to show something genuine beneath the mischief. "Y’know," she says, wrinkling her nose in an endearingly crooked way, "I think we make a pretty good team."
