i could be the reason you can't sleep at night
Flora’s grin only brightens at that, delight sparking quick and wicked across her face at the thought of Erebos sending Carlo and Calan home with tricks of his own. They’re only her brothers, after all, which means she gets to enjoy the idea of their mutual corruption without having to take full parental responsibility for whatever comes of it later. That, as far as she’s concerned, is one of the few genuine perks of not being the one in charge of bedtime, discipline, or explaining why there is suddenly sand in someone’s shoes, pockets, and hair.
Deimos’s last comment has her smile shifting, though, the brightness going crooked before it settles quieter at one side of her mouth. "Yeah," she murmurs, nodding. "At least they can now." There’s no easy joke to hang over that without making it worse, and though Flora has made something of an art out of turning uncomfortable truths into something prettier and easier to hold, she lets this one rest between them as it is.
The strange tumble of shells and sticks and bones gives her somewhere else to put her attention a moment later, and Flora wrinkles her nose as she looks it over. "Me neither," she admits, taking another half-step back as it rolls and clicks across the sand. "Usually we get weird ones if we’ve had really big storms, but nothing like that."
Her daggers slide back into place once it’s clear her throw has done little more than offend the thing aesthetically, and when Deimos’s fire rushes out to swallow the mess of shore-scraps whole, Flora’s expression opens with immediate, shameless appreciation. The heat flashes against her skin, bright enough to make the shells gleam before the creature is engulfed, and she claps once, delighted. "Hot damn," she says, grinning broadly up at him. "Nicely done."
The smile lingers as she looks from the smoking remains back to Deimos, though something more thoughtful begins to gather behind her eyes. With a sigh, Flora shifts the clipboard against her side, not exactly self-pitying and not exactly casual either, but setting the thought down where he can see it. "Since becoming a demigod, I honestly feel weaker than I did before." She lets the admission trail for a moment, her brows lifting as the corner of her mouth curves again, this time with a clearer edge of invitation. "Buuuuut they do say if you want to be the best, you should train with the best, so.." Her grin turns suggestive, bright as a lure in clear water. "How about it? Do you have a bit longer?"
Deimos’s last comment has her smile shifting, though, the brightness going crooked before it settles quieter at one side of her mouth. "Yeah," she murmurs, nodding. "At least they can now." There’s no easy joke to hang over that without making it worse, and though Flora has made something of an art out of turning uncomfortable truths into something prettier and easier to hold, she lets this one rest between them as it is.
The strange tumble of shells and sticks and bones gives her somewhere else to put her attention a moment later, and Flora wrinkles her nose as she looks it over. "Me neither," she admits, taking another half-step back as it rolls and clicks across the sand. "Usually we get weird ones if we’ve had really big storms, but nothing like that."
Her daggers slide back into place once it’s clear her throw has done little more than offend the thing aesthetically, and when Deimos’s fire rushes out to swallow the mess of shore-scraps whole, Flora’s expression opens with immediate, shameless appreciation. The heat flashes against her skin, bright enough to make the shells gleam before the creature is engulfed, and she claps once, delighted. "Hot damn," she says, grinning broadly up at him. "Nicely done."
The smile lingers as she looks from the smoking remains back to Deimos, though something more thoughtful begins to gather behind her eyes. With a sigh, Flora shifts the clipboard against her side, not exactly self-pitying and not exactly casual either, but setting the thought down where he can see it. "Since becoming a demigod, I honestly feel weaker than I did before." She lets the admission trail for a moment, her brows lifting as the corner of her mouth curves again, this time with a clearer edge of invitation. "Buuuuut they do say if you want to be the best, you should train with the best, so.." Her grin turns suggestive, bright as a lure in clear water. "How about it? Do you have a bit longer?"
