flora
Flora straightens as she listens, the last of the humour easing out of her expression and leaving something steadier in its place, something attentive. She nods almost immediately, once and then again, as if anchoring the reassurance there between them before Ellyra can talk herself into something darker. "I really wouldn’t worry yet," she says, voice calm and certain in a way that feels earned rather than performative. "Stormbreak’s skyport is probably an absolute mess right now. Transfers, evacuations, triage runs layered on top of one another. Even the early ships aren’t early when everything’s a priority."
When Ellyra turns the blame back on herself, Flora shakes her head again, more decisively this time, a curl slipping free to stick damply against her cheek. "That part’s on me," she adds without hesitation, thumb hooking back toward the wheelbarrow as if it’s an unruly accomplice. "I nearly ran you."
She shifts her grip on the handles and tips her chin toward the line of crates and skyships waiting to be loaded, the work visibly endless, the rhythm of it relentless. "If you want something to do while you wait, you’re more than welcome to help with the water transfer," Flora offers. "Keeps your hands busy and your thoughts from spiralling. Orrrrr," she continues, shrugging easily, "if you’d rather stay right here in case she comes through any second, I totally get it. I won’t drag you into manual labour against your will."
When Ellyra turns the blame back on herself, Flora shakes her head again, more decisively this time, a curl slipping free to stick damply against her cheek. "That part’s on me," she adds without hesitation, thumb hooking back toward the wheelbarrow as if it’s an unruly accomplice. "I nearly ran you."
She shifts her grip on the handles and tips her chin toward the line of crates and skyships waiting to be loaded, the work visibly endless, the rhythm of it relentless. "If you want something to do while you wait, you’re more than welcome to help with the water transfer," Flora offers. "Keeps your hands busy and your thoughts from spiralling. Orrrrr," she continues, shrugging easily, "if you’d rather stay right here in case she comes through any second, I totally get it. I won’t drag you into manual labour against your will."
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22?
Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
