we write out the ends on our palms, then forget to read
Rain beads along the edges of her umbrella like strings of glass pearls, each droplet catching the fractured gold of the streetlamps as it falls. The air in Stormbreak is damp and clean in that sanctimonious sort of way, as if even the weather refuses to make a mess here. Flora keeps the umbrella tilted just enough to cover both herself and Niki, though he’s taller, and her arm aches a little from holding it that high.
"My brother’s shop is that way—" A turn of her wrist sends the umbrella wobbling, the fabric humming with the patter of raindrops. "—the best shops are that way," she adds, pointing in another direction where bright awnings flare like spring flowers against the grey. And then, with an arched brow and a conspiratorial grin, she flicks her fingers toward a street where the lamps glow a little warmer, the air thicker with perfume and laughter. "And the Silk Houses are that way."
Her voice lilts with teasing familiarity, though it softens as her gaze drifts briefly over the bustling square. Spring has made everything smell alive again; wet stone, citrus blossoms, the faint sweetness of pastry from a nearby stall. The rain catches in her curls and jewels, the gold gleaming like drops of sunlight against her skin.
Spice hums from beneath her coat, tiny claws pricking against fabric as she shifts restlessly, unimpressed by the drizzle. Flora murmurs something soft to her before glancing up at Niki with a smirk that’s equal parts mischief and challenge. "Sooooooooo where do you think we should start? Shopping, sinning, or sibling introductions?"
"My brother’s shop is that way—" A turn of her wrist sends the umbrella wobbling, the fabric humming with the patter of raindrops. "—the best shops are that way," she adds, pointing in another direction where bright awnings flare like spring flowers against the grey. And then, with an arched brow and a conspiratorial grin, she flicks her fingers toward a street where the lamps glow a little warmer, the air thicker with perfume and laughter. "And the Silk Houses are that way."
Her voice lilts with teasing familiarity, though it softens as her gaze drifts briefly over the bustling square. Spring has made everything smell alive again; wet stone, citrus blossoms, the faint sweetness of pastry from a nearby stall. The rain catches in her curls and jewels, the gold gleaming like drops of sunlight against her skin.
Spice hums from beneath her coat, tiny claws pricking against fabric as she shifts restlessly, unimpressed by the drizzle. Flora murmurs something soft to her before glancing up at Niki with a smirk that’s equal parts mischief and challenge. "Sooooooooo where do you think we should start? Shopping, sinning, or sibling introductions?"
