flora
The transition is so seamless that Flora scarcely notices it happening: one moment they’re flirting shamelessly enough to make any passing onlookers reconsider their route down the beach, the next they’re conducting a tactical analysis of magical dolphin handling. From the outside, it probably looks like chaos with good lighting; from inside it, though, it feels like being understood down to the quicksilver shifts of her attention, the ridiculousness and affection and sharp little turns of thought all keeping pace without either of them ever needing to explain the rules.
Pure incredulity pulses down the bond before Flora can stop it, warm and bright and thoroughly unimpressed. "Babe," she says, eyes widening even though he can’t see her expression from where she’s perched on his back. She shifts against him, the movement more skeptical than uncomfortable, and tips her head as though the answer might be waiting somewhere beyond the torchlight. "Aren’t you and Mel the ones who arranged this?" The question lands with all the pointed sweetness of someone very carefully not asking whether he and Melita actually acquired encantados that actually responded to verbal directions.
Pure incredulity pulses down the bond before Flora can stop it, warm and bright and thoroughly unimpressed. "Babe," she says, eyes widening even though he can’t see her expression from where she’s perched on his back. She shifts against him, the movement more skeptical than uncomfortable, and tips her head as though the answer might be waiting somewhere beyond the torchlight. "Aren’t you and Mel the ones who arranged this?" The question lands with all the pointed sweetness of someone very carefully not asking whether he and Melita actually acquired encantados that actually responded to verbal directions.
I want to be when you fall on me like night
I wanna kill the lights
I wanna kill the lights
