you don't know that you're living 'til you're carrying scars
Flora’s grin answers that immediately, her brows lifting in a quick, conspiratorial bounce that suggests Thal isn’t entirely off the mark, even if she doesn’t say it outright. "Oh, I’m sure he’d be very good at it," she says lightly, the fondess in her voice perhaps more well suited to sisterly pride rather than deadly sibling pursuits. But then again, why not both?
At the mention of Danta, she snickers under her breath, the sound warm and unguarded as she nudges another patch of soil into place with the toe of her boot. "He has made a pretty good case," she admits, glancing sidelong at Thal with a crooked smile before her shoulders lift in an easy shrug. "He and Asta both, but...I’d never do anything that’d make me lose Spice." As if summoned by name, a pale shape shifts above them, and a bright trill cuts through the damp hush of the Mathair’s canopy.
The rhythm of their planting continues, hands and boots working the softened earth, and when Thal answers her question Flora stills just enough to meet her gaze across the roots, brows lifting as that single word lands with more weight than the rest. "Apparently?" she echoes, head tilting slightly, the small smile at her lips edged with genuine curiosity rather than pressure, as if she’s offering the space rather than taking it despite the fact that she suddenly feels on the edge of her seat owing to that one little word.
At the mention of Danta, she snickers under her breath, the sound warm and unguarded as she nudges another patch of soil into place with the toe of her boot. "He has made a pretty good case," she admits, glancing sidelong at Thal with a crooked smile before her shoulders lift in an easy shrug. "He and Asta both, but...I’d never do anything that’d make me lose Spice." As if summoned by name, a pale shape shifts above them, and a bright trill cuts through the damp hush of the Mathair’s canopy.
The rhythm of their planting continues, hands and boots working the softened earth, and when Thal answers her question Flora stills just enough to meet her gaze across the roots, brows lifting as that single word lands with more weight than the rest. "Apparently?" she echoes, head tilting slightly, the small smile at her lips edged with genuine curiosity rather than pressure, as if she’s offering the space rather than taking it despite the fact that she suddenly feels on the edge of her seat owing to that one little word.
you're either falling in love or you're falling apart
