Flora
The thought of their younger selves meeting delights Flora more than it probably should, mostly because she can picture it far too easily: him with all that bright, insufferable confidence in miniature, and her with all the same certainty that she was the most interesting thing in any forest she happened to be standing in. Her nose wrinkles as he mentions cooties, her expression turning theatrically doubtful as her eyes sweep over him.
"I bet little you was for sure stinky." The accusation comes with all the seriousness it deserves, which is very little, though she does feel confident about it all the same. Many criticisms could be fairly levied at Enzo and Mateo, and Flora has levied most of them herself at one point or another, but being smelly had never really been one of them. At his claim that the s’mores are the true reason he’s here now, her mouth drops open in immediate outrage, one hand lifting to her chest as her chin tips haughtily into the air. "And here I thought maybe you liked me."
Looking down as he crouches to open the backpack, Flora laughs and shakes her head. "Oh no, it’s, like, just a few feet. I think the farthest anyone got was maybe eight or nine, and that’s only because the stone was huuuuuuuge." Her hand spreads in front of her as though this might properly convey the size of the glowstone in question, though any further explanation is interrupted almost immediately by the sheer volume of things being thrust up at her.
She starts collecting supplies as best she can, though the process very quickly becomes less like unpacking and more like being the unwilling assistant in a cartoon routine. A blanket is trapped under one arm, a tin of something or other pinched between her fingers, and a pillow hugged against her ribs before another one comes sailing upward with entirely too much enthusiasm. Flora sacrifices the croquet set she'd been holding without hesitation, letting it clatter to the ground so she can catch the pillow before it hits her in the face. Her glare down at him is fond enough to spoil the intended anger, even as her brows lift with pointed accusation. "Ohhh, Kaisel. Always such a fast unloader."
The aside about the glowstone-eating child has her pausing with the pillow still clutched to her chest, her expression flattening into bright suspicion. Slowly, one brow rises. "Oh, you knew a kid, huh?" Her smile twitches, entirely unconvinced. "That’s a very interesting way to phrase a confession."
"I bet little you was for sure stinky." The accusation comes with all the seriousness it deserves, which is very little, though she does feel confident about it all the same. Many criticisms could be fairly levied at Enzo and Mateo, and Flora has levied most of them herself at one point or another, but being smelly had never really been one of them. At his claim that the s’mores are the true reason he’s here now, her mouth drops open in immediate outrage, one hand lifting to her chest as her chin tips haughtily into the air. "And here I thought maybe you liked me."
Looking down as he crouches to open the backpack, Flora laughs and shakes her head. "Oh no, it’s, like, just a few feet. I think the farthest anyone got was maybe eight or nine, and that’s only because the stone was huuuuuuuge." Her hand spreads in front of her as though this might properly convey the size of the glowstone in question, though any further explanation is interrupted almost immediately by the sheer volume of things being thrust up at her.
She starts collecting supplies as best she can, though the process very quickly becomes less like unpacking and more like being the unwilling assistant in a cartoon routine. A blanket is trapped under one arm, a tin of something or other pinched between her fingers, and a pillow hugged against her ribs before another one comes sailing upward with entirely too much enthusiasm. Flora sacrifices the croquet set she'd been holding without hesitation, letting it clatter to the ground so she can catch the pillow before it hits her in the face. Her glare down at him is fond enough to spoil the intended anger, even as her brows lift with pointed accusation. "Ohhh, Kaisel. Always such a fast unloader."
The aside about the glowstone-eating child has her pausing with the pillow still clutched to her chest, her expression flattening into bright suspicion. Slowly, one brow rises. "Oh, you knew a kid, huh?" Her smile twitches, entirely unconvinced. "That’s a very interesting way to phrase a confession."
Fatefully, I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep
Code stolen from Queen Sky
