FLORENTINE
always one decision away from a totally different life
There is no rose that could compare to the girl that stands before Florentine now. Nor is there a rose with thorns so fierce.
The fae-girl watches this stranger and thinks how she could write a thousand stories about how she got her scar. Then a thousand more about how she got the colour of her skin – stolen from a setting sky, stolen from a wilting rose and the fresh bloom of blood upon granite.
There is nothing fast in the way Florentine drinks in this blush coloured girl. The Terrastellan’s gaze is a languid caress as she studies the scar – as gentle as a thought and as unobtrusive as a shrug.
When at last she looks away to drink in this land of love, oh how she might have laughed. The stranger draws the gilt girl’s gaze back from the silvering brook (for it darkens as the sun begins to fall). The twilight mare drinks Pavetta in as though she might be the most enchanting elixir, but it is not just the silver-red body that draws Florentine’s attention: it is her talk of fate.
Sarcasm drips like wine from the Delumine girl’s lips but her audience remains unmoved – except for the subtle curl of lips. “I have waited an eternity for someone to show before now. A few more minutes is no bad thing.” Slowly her amethyst eyes trail over the Dawn caretaker. Flora makes no move to make clear whether she had ever been waiting for Pavetta at all.
At her throat, her silver, subtle blade glints knowingly in the fading light.
Florentine is in no rush to speak, so she remains silent as Pavetta’s words roll in like the sea. They wash against the Dusk queen, strong like a wave and rough with sea salt. Oh how Florentine’s skin itches with the implications of such suggestions.
Beneath the long threads of golden hair, her amethyst eyes gleam. They study this silver-red girl as if she might have known her for a thousand years. “Why do you tie fate in with the gods? Do you not think that fate might be beyond even the reach of gods, Pavetta?”
Ah how her eyes glitter with their meaning, sparks flying with the implications of these words. Florentine’s eyes close, as if she might feel the threads of fate binding and linking them and their world together.
The rose-girl’s name slips like silk from the fae-queen’s lips. It was not a strange name to make, it was one her tongue and lips knew well enough. Those amethyst eyes open and snag upon the wry smile curling its way along Pavetta’s lips, sinuous as a cat. “Maybe,” the time traveller concedes with a blink of gold-dust lashes. “Or maybe Time can be bent in such a way that fate may be changed, may be bargained with.” A roll of her shoulders and the fingers of fate slip from her skin. “Fate is the only master I heed, for I cannot escape it.” Slowly Florentine’s gaze lifts to snag upon this stranger’s rosy eyes. “But never be afraid to play with fate, Pavetta. You never know when it might change.”
@Pavetta | | eee let's do this then! Family reunions ftw!
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
