f l o r e n t i n e
Florentine is not convinced.
“You have never scared of anything? She clarifies, her eyes narrowed dubiously. Had the flower girl known this was a secret, a vulnerability he has exposed, she may have been a little softer with the poor boy. Yet Flora, for all her delicate looks and pretty flowers, had been quite the boisterous child. Despite being regarded an ‘adult,’ the vestiges of childhood remain.
The girl’s smile tips up at its corner, her amethyst eyes watching the colour blush around Charlemagne’s cheeks and the shy sway of his eyes. It is the blossoming womanhood that allows Flora to hastily pick up on the cause of the young unicorn’s timid reaction.
“Do you like me?” There is an innocent delight in her question, a pleasant dawning surprise that a strange boy may want to in her company, not just because they were already friends… Her smile is sly and playful and growing.
Even through the pleasure of her recent revelation, the young man’s question captures her attention. She peers at him closely, pausing to wait for him to catch on, to realize what she meant by lovers
Long lashes blink as the time drifts by him, yet he remains innocently oblivious. Flora’s voice drops, when at last she realizes an explanation is indeed required, “You know, lovers…” She pauses again, waiting, hoping…
Nothing.
There is an inhale, deep and steeling, “So,” She begins valiantly, “lovers are a boy and a girl who want to spend more time together. And Amare Creek is their place to, you know, do stuff.” Florentine blinks as she finishes, her amethyst eyes wide, wide open. It is not often that the girl of flowers is shy, but shy she is…
Growing up is embarrassing.
Flora is walking, not quite sure whether to walk faster or slower as he catches up to her. Should she slow to let him catch up and walk with him or walk faster to make him work harder to keep up with her? Why did it even matter? She is mulling over her confusing predicament and stealing glances at him through her (thankfully) long, but (woefully) tangled mane, when he goes back to talking about scholars.
“Terrastella has scholars too.” She chimes, keen to be sure he knows Terrastella is just as good as Delumine. Her brow furrows at his next remark, her nose crinkling, “But adventures help you to know things. Like, you only know there are new things to learn about because someone has gone out and discovered them!”
A wing extends a tip pressing into his side in a playful jab, “You need to get out more, Pretty Boy. Explore.”
Just as her wing has fallen away, Charlemagne’s eyes settle upon the dagger at her breast. Her smile is growing, awaiting his compliment, for it is her finest possession after all and she is rather pleased he is choosing to comment on it.
It takes a moment, however, for Florentine to truly process that his comment was far from the compliment she expected. When she does process his remark, she cannot escape the wonder of how a potential courtship could go quite so wrong, quite so fast.
Were all potential courtships this awkward and this fragile?
“What?” She bleats, shocked that someone could suggest she would cause damage to anyone. “Oh. No, no, I am not like that, I am rather terrible at fighting. I did go to war once but I died.” She placates him gently, still gathering herself from the disastrous left turn this encounter is taking. Yet happy she could prove just how non-violent she is.
“No, my dagger is for my time travel. I have never used it for anything violent. I just chose to be a healer because being a scholar seemed like lots of tedious learning, being a commoner boring because you have nothing to do and I am useless at fighting…” Her petals begin to tumble in earnest and as she watches them fall away, wondering sullenly if they are escaping the awkwardness of this situation…
Valiantly, the girl smiles, her lips curling gently and her voice softening; the less aggressive she could seem, the better, surely? Taking the dagger, slowly, eyeing him out of the corner of her eye, she raises it into the air. “It makes tears in Time and Space – windows, I call them. They allow me to go to anywhere I could ever wish to go.”
With a smile she whispers, “I can show you.” Sure that at last she may be able to bring their encounter back on track – not that the flower girl was even sure what track she wanted them on.
With a flourish and a great deal of gleeful passion, Flora glides the dagger through the air. She waits for the gleam of light, the trembling whisper of Time as it bends beneath her magic. Yet all that comes is the whispering of air, sliced by the descending blade.
Flora blinks.
“Sorry, let me show you again.”
The actions are repeated, only this time with more concentration, which must have been lacking at the last attempt…
Nothing.
Flora blinks again, her heart beating heavily against her chest and growing faster and faster. She and her heart begin to flutter like birds suddenly realizing they are caged. And she is. Only now, now Florentine realizes what her trembling dagger has known all along: their magic is gone. It feels heavy. It feels empty. It is just a dagger – just ornate metal designed for violence and not the artful, subtlety of time travel.
“No, no, no.” She whispers as tears begin to dampen her lashes and tumble down her cheeks. In her ears she hears Pan’s question: would her parents miss her? She now may never know…
“It is just a dagger.” She cries, her voice tremulous, her tears falling in earnest.
Well, if there was one plus her parents (predominantly father) could take from this awkward situation, it would be that any fledgling courtship that could have arisen from this little meeting were well, and truly, dashed.
@Charlemagne
this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
“You have never scared of anything? She clarifies, her eyes narrowed dubiously. Had the flower girl known this was a secret, a vulnerability he has exposed, she may have been a little softer with the poor boy. Yet Flora, for all her delicate looks and pretty flowers, had been quite the boisterous child. Despite being regarded an ‘adult,’ the vestiges of childhood remain.
The girl’s smile tips up at its corner, her amethyst eyes watching the colour blush around Charlemagne’s cheeks and the shy sway of his eyes. It is the blossoming womanhood that allows Flora to hastily pick up on the cause of the young unicorn’s timid reaction.
“Do you like me?” There is an innocent delight in her question, a pleasant dawning surprise that a strange boy may want to in her company, not just because they were already friends… Her smile is sly and playful and growing.
Even through the pleasure of her recent revelation, the young man’s question captures her attention. She peers at him closely, pausing to wait for him to catch on, to realize what she meant by lovers
Long lashes blink as the time drifts by him, yet he remains innocently oblivious. Flora’s voice drops, when at last she realizes an explanation is indeed required, “You know, lovers…” She pauses again, waiting, hoping…
Nothing.
There is an inhale, deep and steeling, “So,” She begins valiantly, “lovers are a boy and a girl who want to spend more time together. And Amare Creek is their place to, you know, do stuff.” Florentine blinks as she finishes, her amethyst eyes wide, wide open. It is not often that the girl of flowers is shy, but shy she is…
Growing up is embarrassing.
Flora is walking, not quite sure whether to walk faster or slower as he catches up to her. Should she slow to let him catch up and walk with him or walk faster to make him work harder to keep up with her? Why did it even matter? She is mulling over her confusing predicament and stealing glances at him through her (thankfully) long, but (woefully) tangled mane, when he goes back to talking about scholars.
“Terrastella has scholars too.” She chimes, keen to be sure he knows Terrastella is just as good as Delumine. Her brow furrows at his next remark, her nose crinkling, “But adventures help you to know things. Like, you only know there are new things to learn about because someone has gone out and discovered them!”
A wing extends a tip pressing into his side in a playful jab, “You need to get out more, Pretty Boy. Explore.”
Just as her wing has fallen away, Charlemagne’s eyes settle upon the dagger at her breast. Her smile is growing, awaiting his compliment, for it is her finest possession after all and she is rather pleased he is choosing to comment on it.
It takes a moment, however, for Florentine to truly process that his comment was far from the compliment she expected. When she does process his remark, she cannot escape the wonder of how a potential courtship could go quite so wrong, quite so fast.
Were all potential courtships this awkward and this fragile?
“What?” She bleats, shocked that someone could suggest she would cause damage to anyone. “Oh. No, no, I am not like that, I am rather terrible at fighting. I did go to war once but I died.” She placates him gently, still gathering herself from the disastrous left turn this encounter is taking. Yet happy she could prove just how non-violent she is.
“No, my dagger is for my time travel. I have never used it for anything violent. I just chose to be a healer because being a scholar seemed like lots of tedious learning, being a commoner boring because you have nothing to do and I am useless at fighting…” Her petals begin to tumble in earnest and as she watches them fall away, wondering sullenly if they are escaping the awkwardness of this situation…
Valiantly, the girl smiles, her lips curling gently and her voice softening; the less aggressive she could seem, the better, surely? Taking the dagger, slowly, eyeing him out of the corner of her eye, she raises it into the air. “It makes tears in Time and Space – windows, I call them. They allow me to go to anywhere I could ever wish to go.”
With a smile she whispers, “I can show you.” Sure that at last she may be able to bring their encounter back on track – not that the flower girl was even sure what track she wanted them on.
With a flourish and a great deal of gleeful passion, Flora glides the dagger through the air. She waits for the gleam of light, the trembling whisper of Time as it bends beneath her magic. Yet all that comes is the whispering of air, sliced by the descending blade.
Flora blinks.
“Sorry, let me show you again.”
The actions are repeated, only this time with more concentration, which must have been lacking at the last attempt…
Nothing.
Flora blinks again, her heart beating heavily against her chest and growing faster and faster. She and her heart begin to flutter like birds suddenly realizing they are caged. And she is. Only now, now Florentine realizes what her trembling dagger has known all along: their magic is gone. It feels heavy. It feels empty. It is just a dagger – just ornate metal designed for violence and not the artful, subtlety of time travel.
“No, no, no.” She whispers as tears begin to dampen her lashes and tumble down her cheeks. In her ears she hears Pan’s question: would her parents miss her? She now may never know…
“It is just a dagger.” She cries, her voice tremulous, her tears falling in earnest.
Well, if there was one plus her parents (predominantly father) could take from this awkward situation, it would be that any fledgling courtship that could have arisen from this little meeting were well, and truly, dashed.
@Charlemagne
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
