Morpho may not have wished to put a damper upon the flower girl, yet the moment that word redemption slips past her lips intrigue is the only thing it inspires.
“What do you need redemption for?” Florentine asks as she considers this girl through her windswept fringe. Her eyes darken, for there is not part of this stranger’s face that glows with mirth. There is no gleam of a heart free from torment. No, Morpho’s heavy heart is drawn upon her face by shadow, by aching lines, black and bleak.
It might have been enough to wipe Flora’s own glow from her golden skin, but the girl is becoming accustomed to this war her heart and soul wage. It is a quiet war, a battle of tears and smiles, quips and laments. Happiness reigned where sorrow could not and it refuses to reliniquish now, no even when the word redemption hangs both gloriously and terribly between the two Dusk girls.
And you… so young and bright… what do you wish of this world?
so young and bright…
Amethyst, unusually still, unusually quiet, settles his gaze upon the stranger. The waves swell and sigh, hiss and fall and through it all Florentine merely considers this girl once more. These were not new observations, for how many times had she been called such? Been labeled an imp, a pixie, a fairy, all creatures bright and bubbly and beautiful. All creatures in possession of wild, wild magic and adorned with playful spirits. Yes, Florentine was bubbly and bright, but what did she wish of this world?
The buttercream girl looks to the sky, the sea, the trees and the meadow. Flowers sway and bend in the lazy breeze, the sun gleams soft and gold, held like a halo within a sea of tranquil blue. It is idyllic here, and yet, she wishes to be anywhere but Novus. She wishes to roam where her bare feet carry her. Diversity calls for her, it constricts her heart and turns her limbs restless.
From beneath dusky lashes she surveys Morpho, “I long to leave here, to travel as I once did.” It is a breath, a sigh, a lament, that fills the silence her words left behind them. Florentine knows she cannot, that it will take a miracle to find where her magic went.
“So, until I can, I wish only for love.” For what else was she to wish for? What else did her heart and soul crave? They may be at war, these two great pieces of her, but they were agreed upon that. “I live for adventure and love, if I cannot have both, then I will settle for the one that is left for me. And that is love.”
And what a cliché it was!
Her laughter begins to bubble and grow and grow until she laughs enough to mend both their aching souls.
@Morpho - I am enjoying this thread! I love their dynamic! Flora needs a girly friend - maybe Morpho is willing?
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
