Giorno approached her calmly—stopping just within arm’s reach. He lifted his hand to hover near her ear, coaxing a swallowtail butterfly from the pink clasp that bound her hair. It fluttered towards his finger and he reached high to transfer it to a hanging pot of fuchsias. It must have been attached to her ever since he transformed his tea cup into a swarm of them.
“My apologies. It must have mistaken it for a flower.”
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-11-03 04:39 am (UTC)“My apologies. It must have mistaken it for a flower.”