with each love i cut loose i was never the same
Flora’s eyes roll so hard they nearly take the rest of her face with them, the soft indulgence of the spa room doing absolutely nothing to blunt the immediate flare of protectiveness that sparks through her like someone has struck flint against gold. "That’s such bullshit," she says, the words coming after a sharp inhale hissed between her teeth, her nose wrinkling as if Colt’s note has left a bad taste in the air despite the citrus and clean linens and aggressively expensive calm.
Shaking her head, Flora leans back into the white couch with her wine held safely aloft. "Colt said something about how I was actually mad at you and not her, so the dagger is probably just her way of trying to twist the situation around more by saying you lied to both of us." Her mouth twists, glossy and disgusted, because there’s a particular kind of ugliness in taking something already sharp and trying to hand it over hilt-first while pretending the blood belongs to someone else. She shakes her head again, and for all the humour trying to skate across the surface, the irritation beneath it is real enough to leave ripples. "Well, as dramatic in the worst way as that all was, at least we’ve both seen Colt’s true colours now."
Then, because Flora isn’t above bullying furniture for science, she lifts her wine glass with a mischievous little grin, holding it over the pristine white fabric. "Should we test it?" she murmurs, brows lifting, her smile turning wicked for all of two seconds before she pulls the glass back with a soft laugh and takes a sip instead. Letting that small bright thing settle between them, Flora glances back toward Soh, her expression easing as the question shifts beneath her tongue. "So how are things with Zavien?" she asks, gentler now, because she remembers the Festival of Lights as more than lanterns and laughter and all the aching ghosts everyone pretended they knew how to carry. "We saw you two at the Festival of Lights, but...I mean, obviously, that seemed like a tough time." Her voice softens further, the wine lowering slightly in her hand as her aqua gaze rests on Soh’s face with less sparkle and more care. "And you got to see Harper?" she adds, quieter still, the name offered carefully, like a shell found whole after a storm despite how his appearance had cut Flora to the bone. "That must have been special."
Shaking her head, Flora leans back into the white couch with her wine held safely aloft. "Colt said something about how I was actually mad at you and not her, so the dagger is probably just her way of trying to twist the situation around more by saying you lied to both of us." Her mouth twists, glossy and disgusted, because there’s a particular kind of ugliness in taking something already sharp and trying to hand it over hilt-first while pretending the blood belongs to someone else. She shakes her head again, and for all the humour trying to skate across the surface, the irritation beneath it is real enough to leave ripples. "Well, as dramatic in the worst way as that all was, at least we’ve both seen Colt’s true colours now."
Then, because Flora isn’t above bullying furniture for science, she lifts her wine glass with a mischievous little grin, holding it over the pristine white fabric. "Should we test it?" she murmurs, brows lifting, her smile turning wicked for all of two seconds before she pulls the glass back with a soft laugh and takes a sip instead. Letting that small bright thing settle between them, Flora glances back toward Soh, her expression easing as the question shifts beneath her tongue. "So how are things with Zavien?" she asks, gentler now, because she remembers the Festival of Lights as more than lanterns and laughter and all the aching ghosts everyone pretended they knew how to carry. "We saw you two at the Festival of Lights, but...I mean, obviously, that seemed like a tough time." Her voice softens further, the wine lowering slightly in her hand as her aqua gaze rests on Soh’s face with less sparkle and more care. "And you got to see Harper?" she adds, quieter still, the name offered carefully, like a shell found whole after a storm despite how his appearance had cut Flora to the bone. "That must have been special."
