flora
Flora grins and nods, the expression immediately turning wicked as her brows bounce with the kind of mischief that makes plausible deniability look like an art form rather than a defence. "Exactly. It’d be the perfect alibi too," she says, one hand lifting from the water to gesture delicately through the steam. "You just say your instincts took over." Her smile widens, bright and terrible.
The humour slips aside when Melita mentions the storms, and Flora winces with immediate, honest sympathy, sucking in a breath through her teeth. "Fuck, that must have been so awful," she murmurs, and there is no pity in it, nothing soft and useless offered from a distance, only the bone-deep recognition of what it is to have the world keep casually resembling the worst moment of your life. She hums her agreement as Melita speaks, gaze dropping back to the constellations trembling across the surface of the spring while the heat folds around them both as if warmth can do anything against memories sharp enough to cut through seasons. "I think it makes people feel uncomfortable, not being able to just fix things." Her shoulders lift in a small shrug, though the motion is tight around the edges. "I know when Enzo died, after a while it seemed like everyone was annoyed with me that I just wasn’t over it yet."
She lets that sit there for only as long as she can stand it, her fingers moving restlessly beneath the water before Melita’s shock yanks the conversation so sharply sideways that Flora’s expression brightens with something smug and vindicated and not particularly healthy. It is not fair, exactly, the satisfaction that blooms in her chest at hearing someone else react with the proper amount of horror, but Flora has never claimed to be a saint, and breakup wounds apparently do not care about fairness even a year or more later. Her eyebrows climb. "Yep," she says, popping the word with crisp, glittering satisfaction.
"But yeah, apparently Jack has been going around introducing her. The first time I saw her was at Colt's rodeo when Jack spilled a drink on me." Her brows stay raised, judgment written plainly across every inch of her face as she looks at Melita through the steam. "It’s so fucked up, right??"
The humour slips aside when Melita mentions the storms, and Flora winces with immediate, honest sympathy, sucking in a breath through her teeth. "Fuck, that must have been so awful," she murmurs, and there is no pity in it, nothing soft and useless offered from a distance, only the bone-deep recognition of what it is to have the world keep casually resembling the worst moment of your life. She hums her agreement as Melita speaks, gaze dropping back to the constellations trembling across the surface of the spring while the heat folds around them both as if warmth can do anything against memories sharp enough to cut through seasons. "I think it makes people feel uncomfortable, not being able to just fix things." Her shoulders lift in a small shrug, though the motion is tight around the edges. "I know when Enzo died, after a while it seemed like everyone was annoyed with me that I just wasn’t over it yet."
She lets that sit there for only as long as she can stand it, her fingers moving restlessly beneath the water before Melita’s shock yanks the conversation so sharply sideways that Flora’s expression brightens with something smug and vindicated and not particularly healthy. It is not fair, exactly, the satisfaction that blooms in her chest at hearing someone else react with the proper amount of horror, but Flora has never claimed to be a saint, and breakup wounds apparently do not care about fairness even a year or more later. Her eyebrows climb. "Yep," she says, popping the word with crisp, glittering satisfaction.
"But yeah, apparently Jack has been going around introducing her. The first time I saw her was at Colt's rodeo when Jack spilled a drink on me." Her brows stay raised, judgment written plainly across every inch of her face as she looks at Melita through the steam. "It’s so fucked up, right??"
The rumors are terrible and cruel
But honey, most of them are true
But honey, most of them are true
