flora
Flora laughs immediately, the sound stretching out of her in a long, exaggerated echo of his sentiment. "Meeeeeeeeeee too," she agrees, dragging the word until it almost loses shape.
At the mention of the sketchpad, her expression lifts again, interest sparking cleanly through the lingering strangeness of the place as she tips her head toward him. "Ooooh," she hums, long and approving, her brows climbing as if this is, in fact, the correct solution to all of this. She slips her arm through his and then they're on their wayto see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz to see the egg.
As they enter the final room, Flora slows, her steps carrying her further in as her gaze sweeps the space, searching for something—anything—that matches what Remi had (never once) said they'd find. She stops fully, her arm still looped through Mateo's as her eyes drag once more across the cracked stone, the empty centre, the absence of anything worth the effort it took to get here, her expression flattening in real time into something incredulous and sharply unimpressed.
"...wait," she says, the word landing with a disbelieving edge as she turns her head slightly, as if a different angle might conjure something out of sheer refusal to accept it, "that’s it?"
At the mention of the sketchpad, her expression lifts again, interest sparking cleanly through the lingering strangeness of the place as she tips her head toward him. "Ooooh," she hums, long and approving, her brows climbing as if this is, in fact, the correct solution to all of this. She slips her arm through his and then they're on their way
As they enter the final room, Flora slows, her steps carrying her further in as her gaze sweeps the space, searching for something—anything—that matches what Remi had (never once) said they'd find. She stops fully, her arm still looped through Mateo's as her eyes drag once more across the cracked stone, the empty centre, the absence of anything worth the effort it took to get here, her expression flattening in real time into something incredulous and sharply unimpressed.
"...wait," she says, the word landing with a disbelieving edge as she turns her head slightly, as if a different angle might conjure something out of sheer refusal to accept it, "that’s it?"
I hold my breath just a little bit longer
halfway out the door but it won't close
halfway out the door but it won't close
