you don't know that you're living 'til you're carrying scars
Flora nods along with the way Thal says it, the sneer, the certainty, all of it landing in a way that makes something in her chest settle rather than tighten. "And honestly," she adds with a crooked grin, brushing the last of the dirt from her fingers, "unless you’re, like, heir to a kingdom or something... fuck the past." The thought lingers a second longer in her mind than it does in her tone, her gaze flicking briefly over Thal as if trying to imagine it—some hidden crown, some secret line of inheritance waiting to be claimed—but even in that passing consideration it doesn’t fit. Not the horns, not the teeth, not the way she stands like she belongs to herself first and everything else a distant second. A throne would feel like a cage on her in all likelihood, obligations stacked neatly where chaos clearly prefers to live.
Flora snickers softly to herself at that, then lets her attention drift back to the Mathair, eyes tracing the vast, scarred bark as if checking for anything they might have missed. The rain has softened to a steady hush through the canopy, the soil around the roots freshly turned and dotted with their quiet little offerings. "Nope," she says after a moment, giving a small shake of her head. "I think we’re good."
Her gaze slides back to Thal, and something in her expression shifts again; not guarded, not distant, but edged with a kind of easy mischief that feels like an open door rather than a test. "Are you up for a drink?" she asks, the smile turning conspiratorial as she tips her head slightly toward the deeper stretch of the woods. "I know a place in the village, and if we ask the woods nicely I bet we can be there in no time."
The grin she flashes then is bright and inviting, her shoulder angling just slightly as if she’s already half-turned to go, waiting to see if Thal will follow.
~FIN
Flora snickers softly to herself at that, then lets her attention drift back to the Mathair, eyes tracing the vast, scarred bark as if checking for anything they might have missed. The rain has softened to a steady hush through the canopy, the soil around the roots freshly turned and dotted with their quiet little offerings. "Nope," she says after a moment, giving a small shake of her head. "I think we’re good."
Her gaze slides back to Thal, and something in her expression shifts again; not guarded, not distant, but edged with a kind of easy mischief that feels like an open door rather than a test. "Are you up for a drink?" she asks, the smile turning conspiratorial as she tips her head slightly toward the deeper stretch of the woods. "I know a place in the village, and if we ask the woods nicely I bet we can be there in no time."
The grin she flashes then is bright and inviting, her shoulder angling just slightly as if she’s already half-turned to go, waiting to see if Thal will follow.
~FIN
you're either falling in love or you're falling apart
