The grasses tickle at her knees as she brushes a wing along the pink boy’s side. As if the touch of Flora’s feathered wing was the stare of Medusa’s eyes, he turns as firm as rock. Where once his skin was soft and supple and so, so warm, now he is hard and unyielding; a sculpture forged from fear.
She paints the boy with amethyst as her eyes drift over him with silent curiosity. Never had she known such fear – enough that it could bind and paralyze - for Florentine has always been too brave, too bold and too wild.
She settles beside the young singer, the hazy sunlight to Maude’s own rich gold. The grasses, spun in moonlight and starlight begin to sway, as readily moved by the evening breeze as the clouds across the sky. When the younger girl finishes her song, even after Florentine’s appeal, the flower girl feels its loss. She hears the sigh of the fields, its many voices rising up to fill the spaces left by Maude’s melody.
“Don’t let Denocte steal you away.” Florentine says at last with a smile as her amethyst gaze, limned in gold and orange, trickles across the fine carvings of the evening’s singer. “They enjoy the company of those who can sing. I should hate to start a war over you.” Never has that playful smile slipped from her golden lips, not once has the mischievous gleam snuffed out from her eyes.
YES. Florentine startles.
Through her thick, thick fringe of flowers and gold, the Dusk girl peers up to the rose boy, the fields still singing with his bleat. “Well,” she chirps, quite astounded by the way the boy slipped from stone to… loud, in a matter of moments. “Welcome. Both of you.” Florentine’s gaze lingers thoughtfully upon Jude for a moment longer before slipping away like water, to pool again within Maude’s eyes, “I am not so new, but still new-ish I suppose. My name is Florentine, I am the Emissary here.”
@Maude <3 @Jude <3
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
