He had been spotted.
Did he know?
Florentine smiles from the sky as she watches Delumine’s Regent running through the swamp. Even from above she could hear the splash of the mud and the clatter of feet on the wooden boards. From on high she follows him, wings tipping as she studies the flower boy below.
He was just a shadow, a streak of brown, but she knows the gleam of those pale wings, the bright of his flower crown.So it is no surprise when he erupts from the cover of the trees. The twilight sky arrests him with its colours and the boy skids to a halt. Mud and petals scatter and Florentine sinks to land a few feet from the spray.
“I did not know your tree-hugging skills were so up to scratch, Po.” The flower girl remarks with a smile. Her tail flicks, lavender petals scattering into the long grasses at her feet.
The meadow sighs, a sleepy exchange that promise the coming of night. “You are far from Dawn.” The fae-queen remarks with a smile as she steps close to him. Her lips brush his cheek, a warm greeting for an old friend. “Each time I see you I hear of a new promotion. Somnus had better watch his back, hmm?” The girl adds with an impish smile and the tip of a gilded wing nudges against his side.
“Walk with me.” She hums, as she turns from him. Not giving him a chance to escape, she leads them on through the brightly coloured meadow and its sea of flowers.
Florentine has pressing matters to discuss. As they walk she plucks a daisy and then a dandelion, and then another flower and another, weaving them all together. On and on she picks blossoms as they walk, threading them into a chain.
“There have been many rumours circulating Novus of late, did you know?” It was such an innocuous beginning, so quietly does she weave her flowers into jewelry, so steadily does she walk beside her friend. “The one about you ascending to Regent was true, but, I was wondering if you could shed light on another?” She lets the question hang for a moment before slowly lifting her finished garland to drop it about his neck. It is as she lowers it that she asks, casually, “Who is this Messalina, Po?” And it is only when the garland is settled about his neck that the Dusk queen peers up at him with a mischievous smile.
“I want all the details. Is she nice? Does she treat you well?” Her smile fades for just a moment, her eyes drinking in her fellow flower-boy. A protective instinct, fierce and strong slips like gasoline through her veins. She did not wish for him to suffer the pain she had when a love became so terribly lost.
@Ipomoea - I thought she was going to be more subtle than this. Apparently not, sorry Po xDD <3
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
