slow down, you're doing fine
Flora’s mouth curves when he calls himself an idiot, a crooked, quick smile flashing into place before she can help it. "A man," she says lightly, one brow arching, "sticking his foot directly into his mouth. What are the odds." The sarcasm is there, dry and bright, but it carries good humour with it, the kind offered as a small bridge rather than a blade.
Then he says accident, and something in her expression shifts. Her brow knits, confusion slipping in where composure had been, and when the word death lands, it knocks the breath straight out of her. "What?" The sound leaves her before she can catch it, raw and unfiltered, jaw dropping open as the reality of it catches up to her. A heartbeat later she swears softly, shaking her head as if she might physically dislodge the information from the air between them. "Fuck. Zavien, I’m so so sorry."
The irritation she had been holding so carefully evaporates, gone as completely as mist burned away by sun. She waves a hand vaguely, dismissing time, dismissing apologies, dismissing the space between then and now. "No, it's fine." Flora exhales, shoulders rising and falling as she reins herself back in. Dead girlfriends obviously took precedent, as did shattering cities.
Silence settles for a moment, thick but not uncomfortable, the cave cool against her spine as she leans back into the stone, grounding herself there while the weight of what he has said settles properly. When he speaks of Stormbreak, of plans and evacuations and the careful way he carries that responsibility, her expression softens into something steadier, more resolute. "Whatever you need," Flora says simply, voice low and sure. "Torchline’s here." There is no hesitation in it. "I can send soldiers. Skyships too, if it helps with evacuation or transport. And of course people are welcome here, however long they need to stay." A small, rueful smile curves her mouth as she tilts her head, obviously not aware of the extent of the damage to the city. "I’ll make sure we’ve got plenty of extra sunscreen on hand," she adds dryly. "They’re going to need it." Torchline during Longheat was no joke, afterall.
Then something else clicks into place, and she straightens just a touch, gold jewellery glinting as she gestures vaguely seaward. "Oh—and our fountain water heals anywhere now. I’ll have a ship loaded up and sent to you."
Then he says accident, and something in her expression shifts. Her brow knits, confusion slipping in where composure had been, and when the word death lands, it knocks the breath straight out of her. "What?" The sound leaves her before she can catch it, raw and unfiltered, jaw dropping open as the reality of it catches up to her. A heartbeat later she swears softly, shaking her head as if she might physically dislodge the information from the air between them. "Fuck. Zavien, I’m so so sorry."
The irritation she had been holding so carefully evaporates, gone as completely as mist burned away by sun. She waves a hand vaguely, dismissing time, dismissing apologies, dismissing the space between then and now. "No, it's fine." Flora exhales, shoulders rising and falling as she reins herself back in. Dead girlfriends obviously took precedent, as did shattering cities.
Silence settles for a moment, thick but not uncomfortable, the cave cool against her spine as she leans back into the stone, grounding herself there while the weight of what he has said settles properly. When he speaks of Stormbreak, of plans and evacuations and the careful way he carries that responsibility, her expression softens into something steadier, more resolute. "Whatever you need," Flora says simply, voice low and sure. "Torchline’s here." There is no hesitation in it. "I can send soldiers. Skyships too, if it helps with evacuation or transport. And of course people are welcome here, however long they need to stay." A small, rueful smile curves her mouth as she tilts her head, obviously not aware of the extent of the damage to the city. "I’ll make sure we’ve got plenty of extra sunscreen on hand," she adds dryly. "They’re going to need it." Torchline during Longheat was no joke, afterall.
Then something else clicks into place, and she straightens just a touch, gold jewellery glinting as she gestures vaguely seaward. "Oh—and our fountain water heals anywhere now. I’ll have a ship loaded up and sent to you."
Flora
you can't be everything you wanna be before your time
