flora
Flora comes into Halo the way someone from Torchline always does, bundled past the point of dignity and still losing the fight with the cold. Furs and thick wool swallow her frame, layers cinched and buttoned until only her face is really visible, breath fogging immediately as it leaves her mouth. LongHeat or not, Halo’s idea of mercy still bites, and she tucks her chin deeper into her scarf as her boots crunch over snow packed thinly over dark, fertile earth, the smell of green life and cold stone mingling in a way that feels unfamiliar and sharp all at once.
Spice, entirely unbothered by the temperature, flits ahead in loose, delighted loops, pale wings catching the light as she darts between low ferns and the edge of the lodge, trilling softly to herself as though this were a holiday rather than a near-arctic forest. Flora watches her with a fond, exasperated huff, gloved hands rubbing together as she approaches the clearing where the sled and wheelbarrow sit, tools laid out with careful purpose around the shrine.
Her steps slow only briefly, enough to take it in, before she lifts one mittened hand and waves toward Noah. A smile follows just as easily, wide and warm and a little too luminous for the cold, the sort she learned early could carry heat where her body could not. "Heya," she calls out, voice clear despite the scarf and the chill, cheerful as sunlight on snow. "Long time no see."
Spice, entirely unbothered by the temperature, flits ahead in loose, delighted loops, pale wings catching the light as she darts between low ferns and the edge of the lodge, trilling softly to herself as though this were a holiday rather than a near-arctic forest. Flora watches her with a fond, exasperated huff, gloved hands rubbing together as she approaches the clearing where the sled and wheelbarrow sit, tools laid out with careful purpose around the shrine.
Her steps slow only briefly, enough to take it in, before she lifts one mittened hand and waves toward Noah. A smile follows just as easily, wide and warm and a little too luminous for the cold, the sort she learned early could carry heat where her body could not. "Heya," she calls out, voice clear despite the scarf and the chill, cheerful as sunlight on snow. "Long time no see."
lust's a liar, a short lived fire
it isn't what you and I are at all
it isn't what you and I are at all
