She watches the impact of her words, horror spilling out like ice across her hot, hot skin. But she has started and she cannot finish now. The confessions keep coming relentless. Each one is a desperate bids to explain herself, to explain something not even she truly understands yet. The flower girl is lost at sea, drowning.
The glaze of Bexley’s eyes, that terrible, terrible glaze is the lance that pierces Florentine’s wayward heart. It pins her down, a spear through the wing of a fleeing bird. It stutters and flutters but cannot escape. It is only once the black begins to shroud Bexley’s eyes, that Florentine realizes just how much of this golden girl she had seen there, hidden in those blue, blue depths. The sun girl blinks, and blinks again and Florentine’s heart crawls up to her throat, her mouth. It is painful, it is agonizing and Florentine sees the coming of the storm.
This silence, this terrible prolonged silence, is an agony the twilight girl cannot bear. The quiet strings itself between them and it pulls, it pulls and it pulls until Florentine’s body grows taught with the need to flee. She becomes the gazelle within her blood, the creature lying still and quiet in hopes the lion might pass. Yet she knows too well this is a storm she cannot escape. It is a storm that has already begun to break her.
The first bolt of lightning comes and Flora jumps with the force at which Bexley’s stands. The girl of flowers was never ready for this, for any of it. Love has her cascading, tumbling, splitting into pieces.
Aghast, petals tumble from Flora’s mane, water sloshes between them, panicked, wild and angry. It splashes Florentine, it splashes Bexley, in its chaos. It is all Flora can do to sit and stare up at the girl now framed by a sun, wild with vengeance.
A boy.
The words are acid between them, slipping off Bexley’s tongue to strike like a venomous bite. Florentine flinches, lashes lowering as she seeks to hide beneath her fringe of petals and golden thread. But she doesn’t, she stops herself, forcing bruised purple eyes to open and rise to face the sun girl whose anger transcends all Florentine feared it could be.
Suddenly Flora is stood too, water pouring from her slender body like a tattered veil, falling away, leaving her exposed, vulnerable. Never has she felt so small. A breath, fluttering and fearful, rocks from her chest as the waters turn to glittering crystal around them.
“I-“
What boy?
Flora’s eyes widen. Darkness and starlight creep their way up from her heart to form his name upon her tongue. Her lips are tight, a seal, a lock that refuses to open, refuses to release his name. She cannot, but she needs to confide, though it feels wrong to confess here. Both wrong and right for she cannot bear to keep secrets from this girl. She has opened herself up and it seems only a small thing to open herself up more – small, but so terrifying.
“Reichenbach.” It splits her soul and it splits her heart, as his name falls like stars, heavy and white hot, from her lips.
She inhales, deep and shaky, - how was her love for them different? Did she even know? The worlds were splitting around her, her magic deprived dagger now so suddenly a foe in all of this – oh what would she give just to have it now, to run to another world and never look back – dragging her bleeding heart with her.
But she couldn’t and above all she wouldn’t. The Dusk girl was here, love struck and love hurt, aching for the Night King and yearning to keep this sun girl Sun girl close. It is ironic then, that she can now have neither, though both are so close, so touchable.
Her eyes close, hurting and weary. “I don’t know, Bexley.” She confesses, softly, brokenly. She thinks of Reichenbach, of the wildness of him. He was splitting stars, cascading light. He was the darkness so deep she could never find her way out and the longer she was with him, the less she wished to. Being with Reichenbach was uncontrolled it was instinctive, it was celestial.
Bexley… She was beautiful, she made the world move faster, the grounds slip from under Florentine’s feet, she brought smiles to the flower girl’s lips and lulled her deeper, deeper into the sweet attraction. They confided, they relished…
Flora’s breath shudders, eyes closing for she knows. The words creep their way to her tongue, worried, desperate not to be spoken – but they have to be. “It’s different because, I want you. I am attracted to you, I need you and I love you but… I am in love with him.”
She could hear heart tear, feel it bleed.
@
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
