you don't know that you're living 'til you're carrying scars
Flora’s snicker slips out before she can stop it, bright and approving, and she tips her brows up and down in a quick, conspiratorial bounce at Thal’s enthusiasm for the grand opening. "I’ll make sure it’s worth the wait," she promises with an easy grin, the tone suggesting she already has a dozen half-chaotic ideas for how the night might unfold.
Her attention drifts briefly back toward the towering trunk as Thal mentions the fire, and she hums softly through her nose before glancing sideways again, the smile that follows edged with a kind of amused certainty. "It’d take a lot more than a tantrum from Tanau to burn her down," she says lightly, nodding toward the Mathair as if the goddess might overhear and appreciate the vote of confidence. Then her lips twist, mischief gathering there as she studies Thal for a moment, the expression sharpening into something conspiratorial.
"You know," Flora adds, voice dipping into a thoughtful lilt that isn’t quite innocent, "I bet you’d really like her if you ever got to meet her." Her gaze flicks upward along the warped, ancient trunk, following the twisted branches into the grey sky before she shrugs one shoulder. "She’s definitely no-nonsense. Very...primal." The word rolls off her tongue with a pleased sort of emphasis. "Before the last war she ate one of the demigods to get a bit more power to keep herself safe." The satisfaction in her smile makes it clear Flora finds that entire story deeply reasonable, if not outright admirable.
When Thal asks how she pays her respects, Flora’s hands disappear briefly into the pockets of her rain jacket, producing first a small bottle of water and then a folded packet of seeds. The bottle catches a faint glimmer of light when she lifts it, and she gives it a small shake. "Healing fountain water," she explains easily, as if that part requires no further elaboration. The packet receives a far more delighted grin when she holds it up between two fingers. "And these," she adds, voice brightening, "grow into super poisonous mushrooms that look really pretty."
Her shoulders lift in an easy shrug as she glances back at Thal. "My brother got them for me. I figured the Mathair would approve." She gestures loosely toward the base of the immense trunk, the damp soil already soft from the rain. "Want to help me plant them around her roots?"
Her attention drifts briefly back toward the towering trunk as Thal mentions the fire, and she hums softly through her nose before glancing sideways again, the smile that follows edged with a kind of amused certainty. "It’d take a lot more than a tantrum from Tanau to burn her down," she says lightly, nodding toward the Mathair as if the goddess might overhear and appreciate the vote of confidence. Then her lips twist, mischief gathering there as she studies Thal for a moment, the expression sharpening into something conspiratorial.
"You know," Flora adds, voice dipping into a thoughtful lilt that isn’t quite innocent, "I bet you’d really like her if you ever got to meet her." Her gaze flicks upward along the warped, ancient trunk, following the twisted branches into the grey sky before she shrugs one shoulder. "She’s definitely no-nonsense. Very...primal." The word rolls off her tongue with a pleased sort of emphasis. "Before the last war she ate one of the demigods to get a bit more power to keep herself safe." The satisfaction in her smile makes it clear Flora finds that entire story deeply reasonable, if not outright admirable.
When Thal asks how she pays her respects, Flora’s hands disappear briefly into the pockets of her rain jacket, producing first a small bottle of water and then a folded packet of seeds. The bottle catches a faint glimmer of light when she lifts it, and she gives it a small shake. "Healing fountain water," she explains easily, as if that part requires no further elaboration. The packet receives a far more delighted grin when she holds it up between two fingers. "And these," she adds, voice brightening, "grow into super poisonous mushrooms that look really pretty."
Her shoulders lift in an easy shrug as she glances back at Thal. "My brother got them for me. I figured the Mathair would approve." She gestures loosely toward the base of the immense trunk, the damp soil already soft from the rain. "Want to help me plant them around her roots?"
you're either falling in love or you're falling apart
