i can't help it if i want to kiss you in the rain, so
Flora feels like a walking hearth in reverse, a little sun-drenched creature trying to drag her Torchline blood through Halo’s stubborn chill. Even in Flowerbirth, the cold presses at her seams, nosing under the oversized coat she’s wrapped around herself like a portable duvet. Her curls are tucked messily into a knitted ear-band someone insisted she buy at the gate, and Spice is a tiny lump inside her collar, radiating frost instead of heat and somehow making the whole situation worse.
She’s planted squarely in front of a display of chocolates, the warm little shop glowing with amber light that smells like sugar and roasted nuts and things she absolutely does not need but is absolutely going to buy. For the northern lights trip. For her and Kaisel. For the romance. For the vibes.
Her gloved fingers lift a bag of dinosaur-shaped chocolates, their glossy little faces promising fruit-filled joy. In the other hand: a chocolate checkers set, unnecessarily adorable, with tiny dark-and-milk pieces shaped like crowns. She tilts her head, humming under her breath, caught between the two. Dinosaurs feel chaotic and fun. Checkers feels cosy and date-night cute. And both feel like the kind of thing you bring when you’re trying—carefully, secretly—to create memories instead of disasters.
She barely notices the quiet presence that slips in beside her until she glances down and finds a boy with wild curls and a luxere hat staring at the same shelf with heroic intensity. He looks maybe eight? Nine? Hard to tell beneath the hat, but definitely small, definitely determined, and definitely the sort of child who takes candy selection as seriously as international diplomacy.
Holding both chocolate options up, Flora angles them toward him with a conspiratorial little lift of her brows, voice warm and musical despite her teeth wanting to chatter. "Hey, you," she murmurs, leaning just enough to make it clear she is absolutely soliciting his professional opinion. "Which one do you think looks better?" Her aqua eyes dance between the dinosaurs and the checkers, then back to him, playful and dramatic in equal measure. "Be honest. My whole future might hinge on this."
She’s planted squarely in front of a display of chocolates, the warm little shop glowing with amber light that smells like sugar and roasted nuts and things she absolutely does not need but is absolutely going to buy. For the northern lights trip. For her and Kaisel. For the romance. For the vibes.
Her gloved fingers lift a bag of dinosaur-shaped chocolates, their glossy little faces promising fruit-filled joy. In the other hand: a chocolate checkers set, unnecessarily adorable, with tiny dark-and-milk pieces shaped like crowns. She tilts her head, humming under her breath, caught between the two. Dinosaurs feel chaotic and fun. Checkers feels cosy and date-night cute. And both feel like the kind of thing you bring when you’re trying—carefully, secretly—to create memories instead of disasters.
She barely notices the quiet presence that slips in beside her until she glances down and finds a boy with wild curls and a luxere hat staring at the same shelf with heroic intensity. He looks maybe eight? Nine? Hard to tell beneath the hat, but definitely small, definitely determined, and definitely the sort of child who takes candy selection as seriously as international diplomacy.
Holding both chocolate options up, Flora angles them toward him with a conspiratorial little lift of her brows, voice warm and musical despite her teeth wanting to chatter. "Hey, you," she murmurs, leaning just enough to make it clear she is absolutely soliciting his professional opinion. "Which one do you think looks better?" Her aqua eyes dance between the dinosaurs and the checkers, then back to him, playful and dramatic in equal measure. "Be honest. My whole future might hinge on this."
