She is too busy laughing.
She is too busy dancing through the flower meadow.
Her wings are skirts, drifting through tall grasses. Her wings are scythes that cut the air with song and dance.
They are summer, this pair. Vibrant, alive, lit with colours that dance and dance and touch every inch of this wild earth. There is no part of the meadow that does not sing with their laughter. There is no part of the meadow that does not obey the wind and shift to watch them.
Flora’s name drifts to her, frantic at first, insistent. But her ears do not hear it, for they are too filled with her laughter, too filled with playful intent. The girl storms on, only stopping to peer back at him when the string between them pulls tight, when she does not hear the rustle of his feet behind her…
Petals tumble towards the boy, as her name tumbles towards her – each are gamboled by laughter, each are drunk on the thrill as they pass. The song of it makes her smile grow broader and her limbs work quicker.
Florentine is fast, but Only is faster. The boy is a blur, his metallic mane gleaming, his ebony body an arrow. He tugs at her mane, another flower gone, and her lips part with surprise, a shiver of intent rippling through her body. He turns this girl to startled twilight, leaving her blinking, and laughing, but is he already too far gone to hear it?
Only goads her in this gloaming light, he baits her with words that dance like imps around her. Amethyst eyes flare and she is running. Long legs, so slim, so slender, are eating the ground – oh to run, to chase! Flora is free and she is fast, so much faster than she has ever been before!
But Only is always beyond her, he is always beyond her reach. He is not even close… Her wings unfurl, gold and broad. She rises behind him, an eagle behind its prey. But Florentine is no eagle with razor shark talons and a sharp wicked mouth. No, this girl is made of petal soft curves and silken smiles of mischief and daring. She is starlight twinkling and dusk light bruises.
The air welcomes this girl of flowers, and as she drifts over his head, a solitary toe drops to flick his ear. “That’ll be two flowers. One for each that you ate.” She calls above the air, her voice uncompromising, her smile delighted. Nimble as a sparrow within the air, she tilts her body, her lips lowering to reach the ear she so recently flicked. “Running like this will only make the poison work faster y’know...” She sing-songs, “I may not be able to save you now.’ Her wings shadow across his head, feathers beating the air as she drifts above him.
It is another twist, another snap of bright, bright wings that bring her down ahead of him and into the grass. She trips once, twice, knees grazing upon the ground, her wings slicing into the grasses, petals flying up about her before she recovers from her landing with only a scrap of the grace she descended with. “That’s a bouquet you owe me now!” She chimes, reaching out to nip his passing torso.
@
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
