[P] It's not an adventure story, is it?

[Florentine]

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

There is no space in her to worry about how he falls into his warrior stance. She pays no heed to the violent twitching of his tail. If she had she might have made him aware of how feline Ruth has helped him become. It is a twitch Florentine felt as life returned beneath fading skin when her magic seized Ruth from the clutches of death.
 
The cut is violent and fast, it allows no time for grace or thought. The worlds split open the window binding them tight. The Rift rages in the spaces between these worlds she has opened. She lifts her chin to its fetid magic, she lets the stale wind of this new world blow the hair from her face. Before this gaping maw fate’s girl stands bold and proud and utterly, utterly fearless.
 
Raymond’s words are whispers against the roar of solar winds in her ears; the window ripples with heat and furious magic. She closes her eyes and feels the power, the instability of her magic. Her dagger glints, wild and destructive, at her breast. This is who Florentine is. This is the girl who came before she was born and, with grace and free abandon, Dusk’s queen steps into the land of ruins.
 
Wild grasses bend around her limbs, yellowed with age and parched of water. This savage world sends a thrill through her heart – her being- for it is nothing she has seen before. Threads of old flags – clawed apart or rotted by time – hang limply from their poles. Crumbling parapets keep straining for the sky, but seem to fall like broken soldiers pulled apart.
 
The air is dust, and it pushes and pulls, abrading everything. Defensive and powerful it throws dust against her golden skin but Florentine stands firm against its savage friction. Even the roar of the window at her back does not bring a tremble or a twitch from her gilt body. This girl is alive, destiny clasping her with divine hands. Verenor stands tall behind her, Tempus’ doors shut tight.
 
Florentine smiles, feeling Raymond come to stand beside her. “Welcome to my life.” She says with an untamed smile, with a thrill of her heart that has missed this savage touch of fate. The time-traveller craves the danger of these new worlds. She craves their beauty and their savagery too.
 
She gives Raymond one wide, magic-drunk look and then she is gone. Florentine is pushing through the open grasses, lumpy from war and hiding metal weapons that lie like fossils deep, deep in the ground. History is below her, the past before her and the Rift’s savage magic behind her. the Rift gave her this power, it gave her the gift to heal Ruth and now Flora would use both to steal her back.

florentine
rocking your pretty flower world