Everything had turned to sun-fire. Golds and reds bathed both Florentine and her Night Court visitor. That dying light of day, gleams down the long, fine horns rising from Rostislav’s crown. She watches the glimmer and thinks, for a moment, of her dam. Her gazelle mother, wherever she was, whatever new, strange wonder that the Riftlands might have thrown her way.
She wished she was too hardened to feel the warmth of his sympathy. But Florentine isn’t and a part of her uncoils from where it wound itself tight like tangled twine. She unravels before Rostislav’s eyes, but it is all kept within her.
His sympathy is so very welcome and she does not think she wants to live without it.
“of course I will.” A pause, a breath, for where her own heart lies in aching pieces, she does not wish it upon any others. “If I do see her Rostislav, I will send a message to you too, count on that.” Friend She does not address him so, but the word is upon her lips, daring and desiring to be spoken. There will be a time for friends one day, when things are a little less ragged.
Then he is gone, his wolf too, with her green eyes no longer there to light upon Flora’s skin. The fae-girl watches them go until shadows drown her, until the sun’s setting is over. Only then does Florentine turn for home.
@Rostislav - wrapping this up since i forgot it >.< <3
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
