f l o r e n t i n e
This was not the first time that Florentine had crept up upon another but, had she considered it, she would have deemed it fair in the grand scheme of things. She had, after all, been crept up on and startled by others many a time.
Coming straight from Rannveig’s most recent court meeting, Flora had entered the swamp still mud splattered, and rather wind swept, from her earlier landing. Since she was already disheveled, this had made for a perfect time to explore Terrastella’s swampland.
The flower girl moved with her wings outstretched and arched to better catch the small drafts of air that wafted through the swamp. It made each step feather light, yet the deeper Florentine drifted into the swamp, the deeper and thicker the bog became. All too soon, her wings were arched high, high enough to escape the stagnant waters as algae clung to her golden coat.
The smell here was pungent, yet familiar. As she waded the girl kept a weather eye open for the shadowy form of the beautiful swamp witch. It was not Yana who intercepted Florentine’s path, but rather a newcomer. His form was now familiar to Flora’s amethyst eyes, for she knew his curves well. Yet, for all she had studied him at the meeting, there was still much that was strange and new about the quiet boy.
In silence, with only the idle bubbling of water and the hum of insects meeting her ears, the girl watches the boy eat. It was a crude manner to acquire fruit, or so Florentine thought, blessed as she was with wings. For her, getting fruit from the bough of a tree was a simple, easy feat. Despite this, she had never tasted the fruit this boy so keenly ate. Maybe the ease of the task took away the satisfaction?
The longer the watched him, the wetter her tongue became and her stomach more restless. From the shadow of the trees, beneath the low hanging vines she asks him, quite pleasantly, “Does it taste sweet?”
To merely ask was not enough, and with a smell of stagnant water and sodden leaves, the flower girl wades from her vantage point. Petals float mulishly on the disturbed water that ripples in her wake. They long to linger with her, to cling to the flowers that nestle and grow vibrantly within her mane and tail. Florentine, golden and violet, brings the vitality of a wild forest and a scent of rosemary and lavender that is so foreign here in the dank swamp.
“Would you be so kind as to get me one too? Court business can be frightfully hungry work.” She asks again. Then, with her voice dropping, she steps close to him. Heat brushes against heat, rubbing, as she brings their bodies closer in the humid heat. Her bright eyes peer out conspiratorially from the long tangle of her forelock, ‘…Not to mention boring.” Her smile is slow and warming. She was not made for court life. No, this wild girl would rather fly to the ends of Novus before finding herself within a meeting.
@Auru <3 <3 sorry for the wait! i look forward to where this will go :)
this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
Coming straight from Rannveig’s most recent court meeting, Flora had entered the swamp still mud splattered, and rather wind swept, from her earlier landing. Since she was already disheveled, this had made for a perfect time to explore Terrastella’s swampland.
The flower girl moved with her wings outstretched and arched to better catch the small drafts of air that wafted through the swamp. It made each step feather light, yet the deeper Florentine drifted into the swamp, the deeper and thicker the bog became. All too soon, her wings were arched high, high enough to escape the stagnant waters as algae clung to her golden coat.
The smell here was pungent, yet familiar. As she waded the girl kept a weather eye open for the shadowy form of the beautiful swamp witch. It was not Yana who intercepted Florentine’s path, but rather a newcomer. His form was now familiar to Flora’s amethyst eyes, for she knew his curves well. Yet, for all she had studied him at the meeting, there was still much that was strange and new about the quiet boy.
In silence, with only the idle bubbling of water and the hum of insects meeting her ears, the girl watches the boy eat. It was a crude manner to acquire fruit, or so Florentine thought, blessed as she was with wings. For her, getting fruit from the bough of a tree was a simple, easy feat. Despite this, she had never tasted the fruit this boy so keenly ate. Maybe the ease of the task took away the satisfaction?
The longer the watched him, the wetter her tongue became and her stomach more restless. From the shadow of the trees, beneath the low hanging vines she asks him, quite pleasantly, “Does it taste sweet?”
To merely ask was not enough, and with a smell of stagnant water and sodden leaves, the flower girl wades from her vantage point. Petals float mulishly on the disturbed water that ripples in her wake. They long to linger with her, to cling to the flowers that nestle and grow vibrantly within her mane and tail. Florentine, golden and violet, brings the vitality of a wild forest and a scent of rosemary and lavender that is so foreign here in the dank swamp.
“Would you be so kind as to get me one too? Court business can be frightfully hungry work.” She asks again. Then, with her voice dropping, she steps close to him. Heat brushes against heat, rubbing, as she brings their bodies closer in the humid heat. Her bright eyes peer out conspiratorially from the long tangle of her forelock, ‘…Not to mention boring.” Her smile is slow and warming. She was not made for court life. No, this wild girl would rather fly to the ends of Novus before finding herself within a meeting.
@Auru <3 <3 sorry for the wait! i look forward to where this will go :)
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
