It was not by chance that the indecisive golden girl happened upon this particular boy where he rested. He was also only one of many that Florentine had, and would continue to find, as they gazed out to sea. In each encounter Fate’s wily hands were at work, manipulating and playing her game so intricately, so silently, it was easy to miss her influence… Such is this case this day, for Florentine does not know how the boy sits and wonders: over himself and his new home.
Was Night the right fit for him? Or would it merely suffice for now?
Was Dusk the right fit for Florentine? Or was Night the better suitor?
It is Night, with its silver starlight, that has come to light the corners of her being; the places twilight cannot reach. It is Night’s shadow that has snuck in and cast its enchanting shadow across her gloaming heart…
This girl has, quite simply, come to love two Courts: One that holds her heart and one that holds her soul - or so she thinks, for now.
Amethyst eyes fall upon the black of shadow-hewn skin and the taste of midnight, and its satin sky, that still lingers there. Dusk has her turning as she passes him; the slow regard of a setting sun upon the black tendrils of night.
It is not just Florentine’s eyes that drink him in, but her nose, her ears, her heart. Wings fold into her sides to the ruffling song of sunburned orange and gossamer gold. Petals fall from her golden hair and topple forwards, feline curious and flower soft with their inquisitive touch.
The boy is the unending black of night and the piercing rays of morning gold. It is a weak light though, the melting and weeping of metal, pouring and dripping its way across his skin. There is nothing hard or sharp about this boy, within this moment, and even if there were threats whispering across his lips, and a sword slumbering at his side, it would still not stop the smile that curls Flora’s honey lips. It would also not stop the words that chirp from her lips, brighter than any morning bird, “Mind if I join you?”
It is not a question, for already the grasses are tickling her tummy and cushioning her torso. Already Flora is lying beside him, with neat limbs that contrast the wild scattering of golden feathers and lavender flowers.
Amethyst chases silver out to sea as Florentine also watches the waves roll in to wet their air with foam and brine. “Ah, I have needed a rest.” The flower girl sighs with contentment, her voice a different song to that of the sea. She is an earthen melody: the sway of flowers toward the sun, the sigh of grasses, the chime of the wind through the trees and the slow ache of time as it glimmers and shimmers on by.
“What do you suppose,” the twilight girl hums, for she is a creature of smiles and too many words, “lies at the bottom of the ocean?” For there was no way she could explore the deepest depths of this great sea – not without gills upon her neck and fins upon her limbs…
@Ammon
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
