flora
"We are," Flora says easily, the answer quick and bright as she nudges him with her shoulder. "That'd be great, thanks. I have a feeling Kai will have a good number of big feelings he wants to talk about after all of this, so a comfy bed is a must."
She slips her hand into her bag as she speaks, drawing out the bottle of Torchline water and offering it to Danta. His explanation earns a quiet laugh under her breath, her eyes flicking up toward the flickering motes of fire before settling on the fountain again, something playful sharpening through her expression as she rolls her shoulders back as if preparing for a performance no one asked for. "Right. Obviously," she murmurs, already stepping forward.
Flora lifts her hands with exaggerated care, fingers splayed like she’s about to conduct an orchestra rather than touch something that looks like it belongs in a nightmare, her movements slow and deliberate in a way that’s just a little too theatrical to be sincere. She leans in, tilting her head, studying the jagged edges as if she might flatter them into cooperation before letting her fingertips brush against the dark surface. "There we go," she says lightly, her tone turning honey-sweet and entirely unserious. "You’re very pretty, aren’t you? So sharp. So.. pointy. Love that for you."
She slips her hand into her bag as she speaks, drawing out the bottle of Torchline water and offering it to Danta. His explanation earns a quiet laugh under her breath, her eyes flicking up toward the flickering motes of fire before settling on the fountain again, something playful sharpening through her expression as she rolls her shoulders back as if preparing for a performance no one asked for. "Right. Obviously," she murmurs, already stepping forward.
Flora lifts her hands with exaggerated care, fingers splayed like she’s about to conduct an orchestra rather than touch something that looks like it belongs in a nightmare, her movements slow and deliberate in a way that’s just a little too theatrical to be sincere. She leans in, tilting her head, studying the jagged edges as if she might flatter them into cooperation before letting her fingertips brush against the dark surface. "There we go," she says lightly, her tone turning honey-sweet and entirely unserious. "You’re very pretty, aren’t you? So sharp. So.. pointy. Love that for you."
let me taste your silhouette
