[P] where the wild things go;

[Florentine]

i'm a pretty flower girl
check out my pretty flower curls

Laughter bubbles bright like flowers and melodic as peeling bells. It is bigger than the newborn boy of thin shoulders and wide, wide eyes. “Careful, brother, or he will show you-“ And it is too late, for already Leonidas is ripping a small wooden toy from the tangle of his mane and holding it proudly up to the still sunlight. “Papa got me this today. Ashmer has one too!”

Behind the boy Florentine arrives in gold, as at ease as her son, though her lavender eyes burn bright like a star. Her muzzle presses into the groove behind her brother’s jaw. She closes her eyes, inhales and remembers, remembers him. “You have hardly been home, Asterion.” The girl murmurs, as her eyes tip up to the skies and the falls and the trees, the pool, the whole island that stretches out, strange and wonderful and beautiful. “So we knew we would find you here… I have so much to tell you…” And she is smiling for not even a frozen world and the ire of gods can keep her joy at bay. Not now, not now. “Lysander and… Aster are coming too. You are an uncle to a nephew and a niece,” Her eyes lower to her son and how a cheetah still roams through galaxies and rich, rich earth. “Leo, what have I told you about using others as play mats? At least ask first.” 

But the boy is not listening, not when he is mapping stars and imagining worlds. “We came to find you.” His mother murmurs to her brother. “So you can meet them, so Daddy can meet them…” Florentine pauses, holding her stuttering heart tight, swallowing it down, down. “We are going today, now. Come.” And now there is no smile upon her lips, but hope for a brother who will say yes again.

@Asterion

florentine
rocking your pretty flower world