Though my soul may set in darkness

He had let Flora know that he wished to speak with her, but instead of the cool twilight of the Court of Stars he had requested to meet her at the Sugartide.

Even in Deppfrost he went barefoot across the sand and spray-wet wood of the docks, but in respect for the season a knitted sweater covered his chest: navy blue with silver sparkles picked out upon it, of course, to match the star-strewn black leather of his pants. Unusually, however, he did not wear one of his usual bands of metal and gemstone across his brow. Instead his hair fell in soft, unbound waves down his back, caught and pulled about by the winds coming off the Arclight.

He faced the elements with his usual stoic calm as clouds scudded across a sky that was more grey than blue, threatening a chilly shower in the near future. But as he came up alongside the Sugartide he hesitated, steps slowing until he drifted to a halt at the foot of the gangplank.

"Permission to come aboard?" His voice was steady, however, as he raised its low rumble to reach within the neat, trim little vessel.

flora

Spice is the first to notice him, her small white form swooping down from where she’d been wheeling above the mast. She trills brightly at the Tidebreaker, wings catching a gust as she arcs around his head once before settling on the rail to watch with curious eyes.

"Permission granted!" Flora’s voice carries easily over the water, warm and teasing. She’s on the deck of the Sugartide, tugging a coil of rope toward the hatch as if she’s been stowing things below in preparation for a flight, which in fact, she is. It won't be a long flight, but she's planning on berthing the Sugartide right by her new house rather than here at the docks.

Even in Deepfrost, Torchline’s air is balmy enough that she’s barefoot, her toes curled against the polished wood, but she’s dressed for the season in a loose-knit sweater and dark leggings, curls spilling wild around her shoulders. Flora waves at Hadama with one hand, bracelets clinking softly, a grin flashing across her face as the sun peeks through the clouds for just a moment. "Heya."

How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22?
Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

His feet trod the gangplank in near silence. Toughened and callused from long use, he no longer felt the rough grain of the wood or the grit of salt that coated it from the spray of the waves that chased the shore well below the skyboat's keel. He looked over at Spice's trill instead, his smile warm as he inclined his head courteously to the regal dragonet.

Then Flora's blond head came into view as he stepped fully aboard the ship, and his smile widened fondly at the sight of her, clad in comfort that was still somehow effortlessly stylish. For a moment he paused as if committing the sight to memory. Inspiration, perhaps, for a future piece of jewelry inspired by the golden-haired leader of Caido's finest region.

"Hello Flora," he rumbled quietly. "Are you well?" There was an oddly wistful quality to his deep voice as the sunlight struck the queen, bringing deeper highlights to her hair and lighter ones to her eyes.

"I apologize for the interruption. But I have come to ask a favor. I... am afraid it will not an easy one." His smile faded as he spoke, a seriousness coming over his expression, and allowing some of the quiet weariness that he had hidden since the departure of the Family to show through. A tiredness that he had not wished to darken the celebrations that had followed, or to shadow the season of mourning and lanterns.

flora

Flora lets the rope tumble from her arms, the coil thudding softly as it disappears below deck. She lifts a hand to swipe at the sheen on her brow, though the warmth of Torchline in Deepfrost is nothing compared to other regions. Straightening, she flashes him a quick grin that carries both pride and excitement. "I’m good. Just getting ready to move the Sugartide to its new home—by my new home." The words have a triumphant lilt, the promise of her mansion still fresh enough to taste like champagne on her tongue.

But Hadama doesn’t waste time, and neither does she when she recognises the shift in his tone. The grin softens, mouth curving into something slanted as she studies him, head tilting as though she might peer around the edges of his calm. "If this favour is about your love life, I’m gonna stop you right there," she teases lightly, the humour there to soften but not to deny the seriousness she feels creeping into the air between them. "You can indefinitely count me out of giving advice."

She moves toward him all the same, bracelets whispering at her wrists as she closes the space between them. With a flick of her hand, she gestures toward the bench built into the side of the deck, the pillows scattered there bright against the polished wood. "Here, sit," she says more gently as she sinks down, her aqua eyes watchful now, waiting for him to tell her what weight he’s carrying.

How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22?
Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Her bright, proud grin lightened his solemn mood for a moment, and the sea-sparkle briefly caught in his green eyes as it had so many times before. The news of the mansion's completion drew a smile to ghost across his lips, and he inclined his head in satisfaction to hear the rumors confirmed. But it was only a ghost, and he could not keep hold of the warmth of that revelation for long for all that Flora's teasing was a welcome light to ease his weariness.

"Mmh. Not this time, no. Though I will keep that in mind for the future." The Ark's departure from Torchline's shores had not gone unnoticed, but he respected his friend and co-ruler's privacy too much to pry... at least when he was distracted as he had been of late.

He breathed deeply of the salt air at her approach, and then accepted her invitation to sink down onto the bench and one of the pillows that cushioned its smoothly polished wood. The silence extended between them for a small span of time before he nodded to himself and spoke, watching Flora's expression as he did so. "I am asking you to let me go." The words were simple, quiet, but tired beneath their dignified delivery. "And to rule in your own right."

Finally a smile cracked his serious mien, though it was not without signs of strain that he usually kept hidden from outsiders. "The Mer are part of Torchline. They do not need a separate King any longer. But they have some needs that are different from those on land. A separate city to tend to, with problems of its own. And I have not been... diligent... in seeing to them. The conflict with the Family..." He trailed off and then shrugged, gesturing to the island that remained on their horizon. "That duty took precedence. But it was a... hm. A 'wake up call,' to the conflict of being a demigod and a ruler."

He turned his hand, palm up, extended it in a silent request for Flora's own. "I would like to return home for a time. To train the next generation who will lead the Underwater City when Safrin calls me away. And... to rest, for a while. Though it will mean stepping down as your co-ruler."

flora

Flora folds herself down onto the bench as if her bones have suddenly gone soft, dragging a pillow into her arms and clutching it against her chest while one knee curls up defensively. At first she almost laughs, almost waits for the dry twist of humour that Hadama has always carried like sea-glass glinting under the waves, but it never comes. Instead she finds only truth in his words, heavy and unyielding, and it makes her blink several times as if her lashes can keep the world from shifting under her feet.

"Right," she murmurs, the single word pushed out distantly, because though she’s listening, her mind is buzzing, soft panic skating beneath her ribs. Still, when his hand turns toward her, she places hers in it, stiff fingers cold and small against his warmth. She clears her throat, tries to find her way back into her body as she looks up to meet his gaze.

Her cheeks flush with colour but she forces a smile, nodding because he hasn't left her any room to argue. Whatever storms she feels, they’ll belong to her alone until she can spill them later, probably all over Kaisel. For Hadama, she smooths herself out, pulling in a breath and letting her lips curve into something steadier. "Torchline’s going to miss having you at her healm," she says, quiet but certain. Then, tilting her head, she lets the playfulness spark again, a thin shield over the ache. "And just so you know, when our next RQ is all pagentry and fireworks around the island? You'll only have yourself to blame."

How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22?
Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

He was not blind to the turmoil that his request was causing to his friend. He could read it in her body language and the way her gaze unfocused as she listened to his words, in the distance in her voice and the chill of her fingers as he wrapped his larger ones around hers, squeezing her hand gently as if to hold her anchored; offering his own heat to replace that which his words had stolen away.

Hadama did not rush to fill the silence, patient as the waves that hushed in steady rhythm beneath the Sugartide's keel and willing to wait as long as Flora needed him to. His gaze had already been weary, but a sadness came into his eyes as some of the weight that he had carried began to shift fully onto the shoulders of the young woman beside him, and he squeezed her hand lightly even as she smiled, bright and beautiful and brave in the Deepfrost light.

"You have more than earned pageantry. And I will only be disappointed if the fireworks are not shaped like... hm. I believe the tradition relates to chickens?" There, at last, was the twinkle of his dry humor as he raised his other hand to smooth a wind-tossed curl behind her ear, his expression softening a moment later with pride and gratitude. "There is no one who loves our home as fiercely and recklessly as you do, Flora. You are already the finest Queen Torchline has known. And this is not goodbye. I do not know how long this will take, but I will return. Perhaps before you even notice I am gone." He tilted his hand to cup a silken cheek in one broad, callused palm for a moment before he let it fall away, though he continued to hold the hand she had set in his as if, despite his words, he could not quite bring himself to let go.

flora

Flora’s smile curls wry and knowing at the mention of chickens, her aqua eyes brightening with the double meaning tucked inside. Mischief flickers through her gaze, but it softens when Hadama’s fingers brush a curl behind her ear. Very rarely did the Tidebreaker lean into overt affection, and the queen sighs quietly into the small gesture, her hand tightening around his in return.

When his palm cups her cheek she exhales again, but this time she tilts her head back and laughs, the sound bright and warm enough to ease some of the weight pressing on them both. Giving his hand one last squeeze, she releases it and shoots him a playful look, lips curling into that familiar mischievous grin. "Enough of the mushy stuff," she warns lightly, "or it really will feel like a goodbye."

Her mood shifts like sunlight slipping through clouds, and she rises in one smooth motion, sweeping her curls back over her shoulder. With a nod for him to follow she adds, grin widening, "C’mon. I’ll give you a tour of the Sugartide before you leave."

~FIN

How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22?
Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!