Oh she wants to have answers for him. But too many emotions swirl within her like a vortex. They press against her mind, her lips, her eyes, each for just a moment, before being replaced by another. So many ideas she has entertained: so many thoughts of retribution, of hiding in shame, of running away throwing her crown down and never looking back.
But Florentine stays.
She moves closer to her brother, hiding in the salt of him, in the wave of his soul that is familiar and so utterly warm. Asterion is a sea, but he is calm and steady. Azure waters with clear blue above. She could float here forever.
Water, it is not far from her father’s ice… maybe it is what runs within their family? Except for her. Florentine had no affinity for water – maybe the girls were simply made of something different? But water brings life to the earth and the flower girl feels such sustenance as she clings to her brother.
Had Florentine known Asterion’s mind then, she might have been warmed to learn of sisters she had not met. She might have laughed, for all he thinks he is not helpful or inadequately prepared. He is not so far from his father in such respect. There were no words that would bring comfort here, only Time could heal her wounds and, for now, his presence was enough.
As her eyes close, as she imagines his breath incoming and outgoing with the tide of the sea, Flora dwells upon his words. What did need doing? Stillness becomes her. That wounded heart is just a whisper and a sigh as she moves. Her soul groans with its pain and neither heart nor soul have an answer for what Florentine should do next.
“I don’t know.” The flower girl confesses, small and meek, finally stepping back from the comfort of their embrace. Had she ever noticed the way the air is clean about him and the very salt of him plays across her tongue as she breathes? Asterion is as much the waters of the sea as Flora is the flowers of the earth. But flowers and water will not save their Court, for it drowns in something worse than water. Save it, a voice vows within her and without a moment’s thought she tells her brother, “One thing I do know, however, is that I want you to be my Regent.”
Carefully the flower girl watches him and the way her words impact. Amethyst eyes drink in the shift of his face, the lines and shadows that paint concern across it. Finally her lips tip up into a smile, wide and humorous. “You look like Daddy when you pull that face.” Her expression slips into a mock frown, an anguish to mirror her father and brother (though his was less, always less). Wide eyes grow dramatically conflicted even as they flash with a mirth that soothes her turmoil, “So conflicted.” Florentine jests, her laughter light and bubbling and oh what a balm it is for just a moment. Her room rings for the laughter, its far corners even laughing back.
Was she okay? No.
But: “I am alright, for now.” Flora says, even though her smile falters for just a moment. It is easier here, lost in memories and family.
@Asterion
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
