you don't know that you're living 'til you're carrying scars
Flora’s grin widens at that, a flash of easy amusement brightening her expression as she tips her head toward the Mathair. "She isn’t a tree," she says lightly, lifting one shoulder in a loose shrug. "She just stays in one when it suits her." Still smiling, she flicks her gaze back to Thal. "Trust me, if you ever see her in the flesh, you’ll know who she is right away," the queen adds, voice warm with quiet confidence.
A fallen branch catches her eye near the roots, and Flora stoops to grab it, turning it once in her hand before using the end to prod into the rain-softened soil along the Mathair’s sprawling roots. The ground yields easily under the pressure, dark earth folding aside in damp clumps as she works a shallow pocket into place. At the question about the seeds she lets out a soft chuckle, glancing over her shoulder toward Thal as she flicks another scoop of dirt aside. "My brother’s a botanist," she explains, the pride in her tone unhidden. "Mateo’s always gravitated toward the deadly ones."
She drops a few of the small seeds into the hole, brushing a bit of soil over them with the stick before continuing, the affection in her voice turning the words almost fond. "He also grows the best dreamdust and third eye in all of Caido, if you ask me." Flora nudges the dirt closed with the toe of her boot, then unscrews the cap on the small bottle and tips a careful stream of fountain water over the spot, the clear liquid vanishing quickly into the thirsty soil.
Once she’s satisfied the seeds have had their drink, she holds the bottle out toward Thal with an easy tilt of her wrist, rain ticking softly against the fabric of her jacket.
A fallen branch catches her eye near the roots, and Flora stoops to grab it, turning it once in her hand before using the end to prod into the rain-softened soil along the Mathair’s sprawling roots. The ground yields easily under the pressure, dark earth folding aside in damp clumps as she works a shallow pocket into place. At the question about the seeds she lets out a soft chuckle, glancing over her shoulder toward Thal as she flicks another scoop of dirt aside. "My brother’s a botanist," she explains, the pride in her tone unhidden. "Mateo’s always gravitated toward the deadly ones."
She drops a few of the small seeds into the hole, brushing a bit of soil over them with the stick before continuing, the affection in her voice turning the words almost fond. "He also grows the best dreamdust and third eye in all of Caido, if you ask me." Flora nudges the dirt closed with the toe of her boot, then unscrews the cap on the small bottle and tips a careful stream of fountain water over the spot, the clear liquid vanishing quickly into the thirsty soil.
Once she’s satisfied the seeds have had their drink, she holds the bottle out toward Thal with an easy tilt of her wrist, rain ticking softly against the fabric of her jacket.
you're either falling in love or you're falling apart
