the difference between a garden
AND A GRAVEYARD
AND A GRAVEYARD
His own grin is entirely unrepentant, cheekily so. “Yeah? I wondered why she was so tight-lipped when I came here the first time.” Laughing easily, he pops away from the counter with a grace that belongs in someone who has lived in their body for much longer than he has. The idea of the seamstress having a crush doesn’t fluster him in turn, too accustomed to Flora’s antics and far too certain of himself to be shy of his body or mind. While he may not flaunt it like his twin, it’s a steady stone in his chest that keeps him centered.
At the invitation he saunters over on coltishly long legs, folding down easily in the seat next to her and propping his elbow on the arm, offering his hand to her with smile newly turned on her instead of the tailor. “Enzo Kaliesin, at your service,” he drawls with a cheeky grin. “What are you getting done today?” Eyes flitting harmlessly over her figure, intrigued by the prospect of her visit more than the shapes his eyes find.
At the invitation he saunters over on coltishly long legs, folding down easily in the seat next to her and propping his elbow on the arm, offering his hand to her with smile newly turned on her instead of the tailor. “Enzo Kaliesin, at your service,” he drawls with a cheeky grin. “What are you getting done today?” Eyes flitting harmlessly over her figure, intrigued by the prospect of her visit more than the shapes his eyes find.
is what you choose to put in the soil
ENZO
