[P] waltz of the flowers;

[Florentine]

i'm a pretty flower girl
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Florentine does not know of a sister; the creature baptized in water and flame. She does not know how that girl turned fury upon their brother and drove him away with words that blistered his soul. Florentine does not know all the ways his sister had scarred him and how, despite it all, he yearned for her still.
 
Such love, it is something that binds the star boy and his flower sister closer. The only blood they share came from the red, red stallion; a love he unwittingly gave them. It was a love to be feared and a love to be adored.
 
Flora does not lift her chin from her brother’s spine but leans into him, her weight against his. Her heart is a steady rhythm and her golden lashes are heavy, heavy. Though he does not fill her daydream mind with stories of their long lost sister, he does fill it with tales of gods.
 
The Ravos he paints is not the one that has filled originally her mind. He redraws it, he fills it with shadows that twist and taint. Florentine might have shivered, were she any other girl. She might have trembled at the mention of gods who built forests of poisonous plants and then bid their worshippers walk.
 
It is only her petals that stir, and they drift thoughtfully to the earth and wonder when the choking vines might come. In silence the flower girl listens to this cautionary tale. It pricks its warnings along her spine and prods the fabric of her soul.
 
“And you were there.” His sister muses soft and light and just for him. “I wish I had been there.” And the traveler girl wonders whens he might be able to steal away to cut a window into Ravos. But through her amethyst gaze she watches her brother and knows she might never go. There is a darkness in him as he speaks, but it is a darkness that does not reach her. She will kneel before no god, she would bend time before she lets her kingdom suffer like that goddess once punished her worshipers.
 
“And if you saw those gods now, what would you say to them?” Ah it has all come to this. For Florentine does not know what it is to love a god, to believe in their love and their power. So the wanderer turns to her brother and asks quite gently, “Do you love them still?” For Florentine knows she could never love a god.

@Asterion <3

florentine
rocking your pretty flower world