Flora
Flora lets out a long, dramatic groan the moment the words unload dirt land, tipping her head back toward the brightening sky as if petitioning it for mercy. "Of course," she mutters, half-laughing despite herself, already moving because complaining has never actually stopped her from working. She whistles sharp and familiar, and Spice lifts off immediately, circling once before swooping back in to bathe both Flora and Hawthorn in a welcome wash of icy air, frost-kissed and refreshing enough to raise goosebumps.
She takes the shovel from Thorn with a grin and a nod, stepping closer as the wagon creaks into motion. "If I was," she answers easily, voice warm despite the chill still clinging to her skin, "I'm not sure I'm doing it right. King’s End doesn’t give you the courtesy of an ocean to dive into when it gets like this."
Flora leaves the heavier lifting to Thorn’s magic, using her shovel more practically to scrape and pry dirt free from the corners, levering stubborn clumps loose so they can be carried out on his gusts instead of fought by hand. She works steadily, efficient rather than elegant now, tossing him a quick look whenever a section is clear before shifting to the next. "Tell me if I miss a spot," she says, already angling her shovel again as the wagon rolls on, content to be useful even when usefulness looks like dirt under her nails.
Flora helps shovel!
She takes the shovel from Thorn with a grin and a nod, stepping closer as the wagon creaks into motion. "If I was," she answers easily, voice warm despite the chill still clinging to her skin, "I'm not sure I'm doing it right. King’s End doesn’t give you the courtesy of an ocean to dive into when it gets like this."
Flora leaves the heavier lifting to Thorn’s magic, using her shovel more practically to scrape and pry dirt free from the corners, levering stubborn clumps loose so they can be carried out on his gusts instead of fought by hand. She works steadily, efficient rather than elegant now, tossing him a quick look whenever a section is clear before shifting to the next. "Tell me if I miss a spot," she says, already angling her shovel again as the wagon rolls on, content to be useful even when usefulness looks like dirt under her nails.
Flora helps shovel!
passion is a passing thing, it's accidental chemistry
caught up in a feelin', it can be deceivin'.
this is like breaking for me
caught up in a feelin', it can be deceivin'.
this is like breaking for me
Code stolen from Queen Sky
