[AW] shadows seeping into skin

[Florentine]

i'm a pretty flower girl
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The cloth is light and soft. Its frayed crimson edges are as Florentine’s wounds that do not heal. The girl lets her eyes rove over the torn edge, where fine strips of thread waft in the breeze that slips through the woodland. The thread would unravel, slowly, but it would become undone. Would it make it back to Terrastella with her?
 
“I will get you a replacement.” The girl says, softly. But still her gaze is upon the fine silk and her wing held snug beneath it. It was softer than the bandages Florentine chose and maybe that is because it was no bandage at all, but cloth made for glory and divine things. If she closes her eyes, the flower-girl might imagine it was woven with healing magic. As she thinks such things, her heart aches for Terrastella. It is the only place in the whole of Novus with a hospital. It was the place that saved her, that stopped her dying and bleeding out upon Denocte’s cliff top… What irony that it was there that she would nearly die. There where she shed her tears over Reichenbach and ripped open portals to a dozen worlds in her ire and resented how he unspooled her heart with just a look.
 
How ironic indeed.
 
A breath draws itself in to her lungs. They ache as they fit in every particle of that steeling breath. Florentine lifts her amethyst gaze at last to Forseti and smiles a slow, small smile. That look upon her face is the slow beauty of sunsets, the weeping of the evening sun as it gives itself over to night in fiery throes of red and gold. That is Florentine, the girl of the setting sun. And she stands now clad in red and gold and wonders what is next for her.
 
“Forseti.” The Dusk girl muses and, not for the first time, falls silent to better feel how that name sits upon her tongue, how it fills and owns the space between them.
 
The small smile, still sunset beautiful, does not change upon her lips, but it does ebb a little towards black. Night was coming, as it always was and will and would for all eternity. Would Florentine be there? Was there an end of all things? When everything would become nothing? Or was this just a continuing cycle, like her? Florentine was born to die and be born again. Over and over and over and over. This is she, the girl who does not stay dead, the girl who Time blessed to roam wherever she wishes. Florentine knows she is not the only Florentine, that unnumbered more are littered through space and time and each one can wear the same sunset smile as she and love a once-god who, in their reality, might still be a true god.
 
Yet she is here and she is now and her eyes drink in Delumine’s empty forest. It is so still, so silent, but for the stirring of Forseti’s cloak with its frayed edges. “This is a place of gods and monsters.” The girl breathes as if it is normal as if she has never lived a day without gods or monsters. She has not lived even a minute without them. There is nothing that surprises a time-girl like her.
 
“Delumine is healing. Its woodland is healing… Like all of Novus. The people will be in the Dawn Court, shall I take you there? I am from Terrastella but I have come to visit an old friend.”


@Forseti

florentine
rocking your pretty flower world