Darling, you're the one I want
Flora tilts her head as she settles in beside him, pressing a soft, absent kiss to his shoulder as their slow crawl comes to a stop, the warmth of him a far more compelling anchor than the fading magic beyond. She turns her attention to the photo as it develops, watching the image take shape before her mouth curves in a small, pleased smile. "Maybe not," she agrees gently, voice still quiet from the moment, "but it’s still something to remember it by." She leans into him just slightly as she says it, the sentiment stretching a touch further than the qilin alone, something broader and softer tucked into the edges of her tone.
The next click catches her mid-breath, her mouth likely open in the kind of expression that never quite translates well to paper, and she narrows one eye thoughtfully as though assessing the damage before letting herself flop fully onto her back. The blanket is abandoned without ceremony, grass cool beneath her as she stretches out, curls fanning slightly around her head while she stares up at the starlit canopy.
"Mayyyyybeee," she hums, drawing the word out while her nose wrinkles with consideration. "I know one of the old demigods used to have a qilin shift... I wonder if anyone else does." The thought lingers only briefly before her attention drifts again, gaze tracking the scatter of stars above them.
"Hey," she says after a moment, reaching a hand out lazily in his direction, "gimme the camera for a sec." Once it’s in her grasp, she lifts it overhead and snaps a quick photo of the sky, the quiet click punctuating the soft hush around them. Rolling slightly onto her side, she angles the developing picture toward him as it begins to form, her finger lifting to point at the emerging shapes. "See," she says, tracing the cluster with a grin creeping into her voice, "it kinda looks like a giant frog." She pauses just long enough for the name to feel appropriately important before adding, with complete certainty, "Starius Rupertus."
The next click catches her mid-breath, her mouth likely open in the kind of expression that never quite translates well to paper, and she narrows one eye thoughtfully as though assessing the damage before letting herself flop fully onto her back. The blanket is abandoned without ceremony, grass cool beneath her as she stretches out, curls fanning slightly around her head while she stares up at the starlit canopy.
"Mayyyyybeee," she hums, drawing the word out while her nose wrinkles with consideration. "I know one of the old demigods used to have a qilin shift... I wonder if anyone else does." The thought lingers only briefly before her attention drifts again, gaze tracking the scatter of stars above them.
"Hey," she says after a moment, reaching a hand out lazily in his direction, "gimme the camera for a sec." Once it’s in her grasp, she lifts it overhead and snaps a quick photo of the sky, the quiet click punctuating the soft hush around them. Rolling slightly onto her side, she angles the developing picture toward him as it begins to form, her finger lifting to point at the emerging shapes. "See," she says, tracing the cluster with a grin creeping into her voice, "it kinda looks like a giant frog." She pauses just long enough for the name to feel appropriately important before adding, with complete certainty, "Starius Rupertus."
in paper rings, in picture frames, in dirty dreams
