[AW] we drew in revelry;

[Florentine]

i'm a pretty flower girl
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There was something wrong within her. It was something more than the heartache that sinks like dread within her and pierces her heart with claws of worry.
 
It is that something that has her lowering the alcohol from her lips and pushing it away. It has her training her amethyst gaze upon Theo and brushing aside the waves of nausea. The damp of her shower still clings to her mane like dew. Shampoo subtle as roses, blends with the lavender and hyacinths that grow and flourish within her mane.
 
Between their gaze a lone petal falls, purple like the bruising ache of their conversation. It rests like a tear drop upon the table between them. Florentine does not see it – when does she ever see her petals fall? They have fallen since birth, a trail behind her, marking her path, always.
 
“We are lucky to have you as a warrior,” Florentine breathes every part the queen she once was. A queen who knew the price her troops paid, day in, day out. “But we are never made for just one thing. Never. Sometimes we don’t know what other things we might be made for but others can tell us that. We never see ourselves as others do.”
 
And she listens, to the telling of a father – a man who has lost so much. Her smile is small, sympathy found in its every curve. In its softness it is a smile of roses, beautiful, a gift given in consolation’s name.  gilded lashes fan across her cheek as her eyes close. That smile does not falter, not even when she sees her own father, crimson against the snow of their home. Oh his image fills her mind, her senses. She remembers what it is to touch him, to smell him, to hear him… But he is not here, she left him long ago and did not return – not when she found his son, her brother. All that she is left with now is the love of a daughter for a father.
 
At once she knows just what is wrong within her. At once that yearning and regret is stronger and her wings press tight about her slim sides - slim she thinks, for now.
 
She asks for water from a passing waiter and smiles at the girl before her, before lowering her gaze to the paper before her. “It is hard, isn’t it? Leaving family behind, especially in the face of danger. Your father is proud of you though Theo – I am not sure how he cannot be…” Florentine pauses, her gaze drifting across the room finding Asterion who was to her so many things and his status still to change: brother, king, uncle. “But you fight under one of the greatest leaders Terrastella has ever had. Marisol loves her troops and she will keep you safe too.”



@Theodosia 

florentine
rocking your pretty flower world