flora
Flora freezes mid-rake when Deimos speaks again, the motion stopping so abruptly the tines catch on a crust of ice. Her head snaps up, scarf slipping just enough to reveal the full, unguarded reaction as her mouth drops open in a perfectly theatrical O, aqua eyes going bright and incredulous as they bounce from Deimos to Noah and back again. "Shut up," she blurts, entirely without offence and full of delight, before it tumbles immediately into, "Congratulations!"
She laughs, breath puffing white, joy sparking sharp and genuine across her expression as she shakes her head once, like the news has tilted the world just slightly off its axis. "That’s incredible," she adds, softer now, still smiling, still glowing with it. "And honestly? Amazing timing. My dads are expecting a baby soon too, so apparently this is just the season for it."
At the mention of wedding cakes, her attention slides back to Deimos with a sly, knowing curve to her mouth, brows lifting as she gives a deliberately vague shrug that carries far more implication than explanation. "Who knows," she says lightly, tone breezy as fresh snow and just as concealing. "Maybe there’ll be more weddings soon, too."
Then Noah is looking to her again, handing out the next task, and she straightens with an easy nod, already stepping closer. "Can do," she says brightly, moving to his side and reaching for the bag once he steadies the wheelbarrow. The weight pulls at her arms as she hauls it up and tips it in, powdery concrete dust puffing faintly into the cold air.
She laughs, breath puffing white, joy sparking sharp and genuine across her expression as she shakes her head once, like the news has tilted the world just slightly off its axis. "That’s incredible," she adds, softer now, still smiling, still glowing with it. "And honestly? Amazing timing. My dads are expecting a baby soon too, so apparently this is just the season for it."
At the mention of wedding cakes, her attention slides back to Deimos with a sly, knowing curve to her mouth, brows lifting as she gives a deliberately vague shrug that carries far more implication than explanation. "Who knows," she says lightly, tone breezy as fresh snow and just as concealing. "Maybe there’ll be more weddings soon, too."
Then Noah is looking to her again, handing out the next task, and she straightens with an easy nod, already stepping closer. "Can do," she says brightly, moving to his side and reaching for the bag once he steadies the wheelbarrow. The weight pulls at her arms as she hauls it up and tips it in, powdery concrete dust puffing faintly into the cold air.
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
