slow down, you're doing fine
Flora pulls a face so exaggerated it borders on theatrical tragedy, because yes, obviously he’s right about the dangers of flying, but she has no intention whatsoever of letting him win so easily. She jabs her fork in the air as if punctuating her own alternative logic. "Maybe it’s because my bestie is just a better flier than Charlie," she counters brightly, choosing shameless bias over accuracy without a second thought. Then—blink, blink—she stares at him as he mentions hang gliding. "Hang gliding?" she repeats, incredulous, before bursting into laughter. "How is that the same thing at all?"
Her snicker melts into soft, bubbling giggles as she leans in and plants a loud, delighted kiss on his cheek. "Nope!" she purrs against his skin, refusing to give him written evidence of anything. Sitting up again, she keeps her grin wide, warm, effortlessly fond. "I don’t know...Ronin really likes to please and is terrible at saying no to things, so..." She stretches the words out meaningfully, then breaks into a laugh and shakes her head. "But regardless, you’re the last face I want to see before bed. Not Ronin’s, if it’s all the same to you."
As his arm settles around her, she shifts without thinking, fitting herself to him in that seamless little way her body always seems to find. It isn’t the conversation she thought they’d be having over breakfast (no more short posts ig), but she follows it anyway, toes curling cold inside her boots as the memories rise. Her voice lowers, losing some of its sparkle as she exhales. "That day in the Greatwood...Pierce had this...dome. I couldn’t have channelled even if I wanted to." Heat burns faintly across her cheeks at the memory—guilt, fear, the feeling of helplessness clinging like a second skin—and she shivers instinctively, rubbing her palms together to fight the cold that creeps into her fingers.
"And when Dahlia found me..." Her swallow is tight, her gaze momentarily fixed on her waffles instead of the man she loves, seeing on her plate the hazy way the world had grown gray around her as Dahlia's claws had sunk into her. "I compassed away and that time I did channel my dads." She pauses, breath thinning. "And I still almost died, even with all three of them there."
Another small shrug, defeated in a way she doesn’t like to let him see, but she doesn’t hide from it either, not with him. "So I guess...yeah. I’ve been thinking about it."
She’s just opening her mouth to ask him whether he really would Attune with her, when their waitress materialises beside the table once again. One hand braced on her hip, her expression as flat and unimpressed as ever, she surveys the syrup-drenched battlefield before them. "Everything to your liking?" she asks in a tone so dull it feels like a judgement all on its own.
Her snicker melts into soft, bubbling giggles as she leans in and plants a loud, delighted kiss on his cheek. "Nope!" she purrs against his skin, refusing to give him written evidence of anything. Sitting up again, she keeps her grin wide, warm, effortlessly fond. "I don’t know...Ronin really likes to please and is terrible at saying no to things, so..." She stretches the words out meaningfully, then breaks into a laugh and shakes her head. "But regardless, you’re the last face I want to see before bed. Not Ronin’s, if it’s all the same to you."
As his arm settles around her, she shifts without thinking, fitting herself to him in that seamless little way her body always seems to find. It isn’t the conversation she thought they’d be having over breakfast (
"And when Dahlia found me..." Her swallow is tight, her gaze momentarily fixed on her waffles instead of the man she loves, seeing on her plate the hazy way the world had grown gray around her as Dahlia's claws had sunk into her. "I compassed away and that time I did channel my dads." She pauses, breath thinning. "And I still almost died, even with all three of them there."
Another small shrug, defeated in a way she doesn’t like to let him see, but she doesn’t hide from it either, not with him. "So I guess...yeah. I’ve been thinking about it."
She’s just opening her mouth to ask him whether he really would Attune with her, when their waitress materialises beside the table once again. One hand braced on her hip, her expression as flat and unimpressed as ever, she surveys the syrup-drenched battlefield before them. "Everything to your liking?" she asks in a tone so dull it feels like a judgement all on its own.
Flora
you can't be everything you wanna be before your time
