flora
Flora is still marvelling at the way Snowcloak holds itself together despite the cold when a little comet of fire streaks past, its glow skating across ice and packed snow and drawing a wake of startled movement in its path. Even bundled to the chin in layers she is not built for this place, the cold biting through wool and fur in a way that feels personal, invasive, and wildly unnecessary given that it is supposedly LongHeat. Spice clings to her shoulder like a judgemental ornament, tail looped tight, a faint chill radiating from her small body that only deepens Flora’s sense of betrayal at being this cold in summer.
She slows as the chase resolves itself near one of the ever-burning cookfires, watching from a polite distance as the woman finally corrals her fiery menace, the whole scene carrying the unmistakable flavour of dignity slipping on ice. Flora does not know the woman, has never seen a companion quite like that darting flame, but the energy of it lands somewhere familiar all the same, a recognition born of living with clever, wilful things that think rules are more of a suggestion than a law.
By the time the pair move on, Flora is already smiling into the scarf pulled high over her mouth, eyes bright with amusement as she passes close enough to catch the glare directed at the offending sprite. She tips her head, eyes widening theatrically in a way that needs no explanation, the words slipping out warm and sympathetic despite the cold. "Best of luck with that."
Spice responds immediately, huffing out a sharp little plume of frosty breath in what can only be taken as offence, the chill puff dissipating quickly into the air. Flora’s laugh follows without permission, bright and unguarded, shoulders shaking beneath her heavy coat as she reaches up to scratch gently beneath the dragon’s chin, murmuring something soft and indulgent that is lost to the wind.
She slows as the chase resolves itself near one of the ever-burning cookfires, watching from a polite distance as the woman finally corrals her fiery menace, the whole scene carrying the unmistakable flavour of dignity slipping on ice. Flora does not know the woman, has never seen a companion quite like that darting flame, but the energy of it lands somewhere familiar all the same, a recognition born of living with clever, wilful things that think rules are more of a suggestion than a law.
By the time the pair move on, Flora is already smiling into the scarf pulled high over her mouth, eyes bright with amusement as she passes close enough to catch the glare directed at the offending sprite. She tips her head, eyes widening theatrically in a way that needs no explanation, the words slipping out warm and sympathetic despite the cold. "Best of luck with that."
Spice responds immediately, huffing out a sharp little plume of frosty breath in what can only be taken as offence, the chill puff dissipating quickly into the air. Flora’s laugh follows without permission, bright and unguarded, shoulders shaking beneath her heavy coat as she reaches up to scratch gently beneath the dragon’s chin, murmuring something soft and indulgent that is lost to the wind.
and if you'd never come for me, I might've drowned in the melancholy
I swore my loyalty to me, myself, and I, Right before you lit my sky up
I swore my loyalty to me, myself, and I, Right before you lit my sky up
