Enzo
Wrong, actually, Enzo is watching. Appreciating her heroism as it deserves to be, faithful single man of an audience that he is and probably forever will be. Today is a day for audience involvement however, and Enzo gives chase after his sister with a cackle like the bark of a fox. Her threat is not at all empty, she can be as mischievous as he is, but what's a head of hair worth to an eight year old boy?
Whatever retort is on his tongue withers and dies as his sister's blonde head suddenly disappears from view, taking his heart with it to somewhere around his toes. The shriek of his name fills him with a sense of terrible wrongness that he's sure will make sleeping entirely impossible, but it makes his limbs move even when they feel like ice. "Flora!" He catapults himself over the log and is reaching for her shirt in what feels like a blur, yanking at her with all his might - and a little something extra, something as yet still foreign and unused.
Whatever retort is on his tongue withers and dies as his sister's blonde head suddenly disappears from view, taking his heart with it to somewhere around his toes. The shriek of his name fills him with a sense of terrible wrongness that he's sure will make sleeping entirely impossible, but it makes his limbs move even when they feel like ice. "Flora!" He catapults himself over the log and is reaching for her shirt in what feels like a blur, yanking at her with all his might - and a little something extra, something as yet still foreign and unused.
and though I can't recall your face
I've still got love for you
I've still got love for you
