The tip of a dagger appears before Rostislav. It hovers, ominous in the cold air and glinting in the scant light filtering down through the dense swampland. After a moment it slowly begins to slide down towards the chilled earth. The cut it creates is black, black, black and as its edges ripple, as if a wind blows out from within. A slip of silvery moonlight passes through to gleam upon the sodden earth at Rostislav’s feet.
Suddenly the cut is filled with gold and, from its core, the Dusk queen steps through. The seam she had cut opens more to allow her through. It is a passage from one time into another and by it Florentine steps into the Swamp as if she were merely passing through a doorway.
It is unclear whether Florentine comes to the Night Warden from the past or the future. Her gaze suggests the latter, for it meets Rostislav’s with no hint of surprise. The flower girl watches him as if she has always expected Rosti to be stood there with his lupine familiar.
The girl is quiet for a moment, merely letting her eyes draw over him before sweeping away to his hellhound. Green meets amethyst and still Florentine does not stir, but within her chest she wills her heart to slow. It is a fitful thing now and it longs to flee from its cage of bone and blood.
Slowly Flora forces her gaze back to the Night Warden, “Rostislav.” She acknowledges him softly, at last. But there is nothing soft in her gaze. Her gaze is stone, rough and ragged – a contrast to the petals that cling to her mane like butterfly wings.
This might be the first time they have met, but no one would ever know, with the way she looks at him full of knowing. Yet, maybe it was the smell of alcohol that still clung to his skin? Rostislav had a reputation that preceded him, after all.
A moment of silence passes, fleeting and fragile against the Swamp’s many voices. “If you have come with a message from Reichenbach, you can leave.” The flower queen breathes with a voice so guarded and rougher than the silk it had once been.
With that, Florentine turns, stepping by where her cut had once been. It had healed so swiftly and was gone, as if the worlds had never been cut… if only a heart could heal so easily.
@Rostislav - yaaay it has been too long since we have written together my lovely <3
★ She is clothed with strength and dignity,
and she laughs without fear of the future ★
