It is a thing most fortunate that for all this stranger finds Florentine lacking, she too places precious little upon his opinion of her.
His grey eyes grate like stone across her skin. All at once Ammon’s gaze is as heavy as a mountain and as light and fleeting as air. Flora cares not as he observes her beauty with an unimpressed eye. Maybe it is fortunate, then, that this buttermilk girl has only ever twice yearned to be perceived as beautiful: Once by Bexley and again by Reichenbach. And it is only the Night King who Florentine continues to hope may see her as beautiful.
Lashes fan across her cheek as she lies close to the dispassionate stranger. Her heart is a tattoo that hurries and fades with the sighing song of the sea winds. Amethyst eyes cling to the horizon, even as her lips begin to curl with the whisper of twilight within the sky.
The flower girl catches his words in a flute-shaped ear and turns to paint his grey gaze purple. “You have never thought about it?” She is breathy surprise, golden lashes framing her widening eyes. “I am queer.” The flower girl agrees without a sliver of doubt to tremble her silken voice. “But it is not queer to wonder what lies at the bottom of the ocean. It is natural to crave answers to the impossible.” Florentine pauses, her eyes still upon the glistening sea as it rolls beneath the golden sun. “I suppose until I meet someone who can breath underwater, I shall never know.”
Was that thine poor attempt to spark speech?
Oh how his words tip her lips into a smile as she lies out beside Ammon. The disdain with which he addresses her pours across her golden skin and then away like water. “Oh, careful,” the Dusk Emissary hums, “you may inspire me to try harder and we clearly cannot be having that now can we?” Her lips curl into an ever more devious smile as her lashes close; Florentine is too comfortable here and maybe that is an insult to this gruff boy of old words and stormy eyes. She unfurls across the sand, even with the grate of his dispassionate grey eyes, and his insults hanging above her.
“So.” The flower girl hums, “will you pander to me with tales of what you think may lie at the bottom of the ocean? Or should I go and find someone decidedly more exciting?”
Again, her devilish smile sparks between them.
@Ammon - sorry for the late reply, thank you for your patience <3
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
