[P] A drowsy sweetness

[Florentine]

i'm a pretty flower girl
check out my pretty flower curls

Oh Florentine watches all the possibilities that run through his mind. She watches the way his eyes darken and wonders what shadowy things he thinks her capable of. It brings a rueful, sad smile to her lips.
 
Her smile does not waver as she drinks in the silver of him. Does he know he glows beneath Solis’ sun? Does he know the ways in which the eyes around them are focused upon him? It would make sense later, when she learns of how he is their Emissary.
 
Silently, Flora lets her gaze trickle over the patterns they make across his muscled torso. The flower girl wonders what tale each scar tells, what secrets each one keeps in its stretch of silvered skin.
 
She might ask him one day.
 
Slowly her lilac eyes lift to his dove-white fringe and his own eyes lying dark as night behind it. Her gaze lingers on his for a moment, amethyst drowning in the dark between stars before slowly she looks away. Idly she wonders when he might smile, whether the serious of his eyes is also etched into his soul. Her father’s had been… Florentine, ever the open book, ever the girl with her flyaway heart upon her sleeve, cannot hide the twinge of pain that darkens her eyes to bruised purple.
 
With a sigh and fae-grace the girl steps towards the moonlit boy. “And what are you doing?” She hums drinking in the whole of him as she mirrors his question back upon him. “What if I am here to spy?” Her question is playful, it dances teasingly in the air between them. Yet the curiosity with which Flora peers at Eik runs deeper than the golden girl implies. Would he trust her? Does he trust her now?
 
Recognition dawns as his eyes press like fingers upon her flowers and her dagger. Lady Florentine. Gracefully she dips into a small curtsey for the Solterran boy, though her nose crinkles in an almost childish gesture. “I do not wear titles well at all. Please just call me Flora.” The smile that colours her gilt lips is small, though it curls with shy hopefulness; it was not often she was called Flora anymore.
 
Eik. The name drifts between them and tugs another smile from her lips. “Oh! I have heard of you. I believe you might be friends with my brother, Asterion?” Her skull tilts, as she regards him her smile brightening with familiarity.
 
“Bees?” Florentine blinks, golden lashes brushed the curve of her cheek. “Why? Do I have one on me?” In startlement she looks, carefully listening for a telltale buzz, for the stirring of petals and hair. “I do not have problem with them, I quite enjoy them, unless they tangle in my mane or tail then sting me in fright.” She shakes as memories creep like bees along her conscious. A shiver runs down her spine. “It has happened more times than I would like to admit. Do you know how much of a challenge it is in important meetings to discreetly remove a bee from one’s hair?” Those amethyst eyes, bright like the twilight sky, peer at her new companion as a huff slips past her gilt lips.
 
‘When I was a child, the first bee I ever recall became tangled in my mane. I did not know how fierce they could be and so nudged it loose. Needless to say the bee was most disgruntled and promptly stung my nose. It swelled, along with my upper lip, and for a week my face was more hippo than horse.” She steps closer as if to impart a vital bit of information. Lavender flowers shed petals between them.  “Do you know how hard it is to talk with a lisp, Eik?” With her smile still curling her lips, her mind lost in memories, the fae-queen turns from the silver boy.
 
“You remind me of the moon.” She says softly, thoughtfully. “Its shadows make dapples like yours.” Beneath her fringe of flowers Florentine peers back at him, “Have you ever danced with your moon shadow Eik?”

@Eik wow, have a book. Sorry! >.<
 <3

florentine
rocking your pretty flower world