I don't know why it's called a good bye

If movin' on had a scoreboard, It'd say

Sand falls between her fingers in a slow trickle, spilling out with the mild tilt she offers it. She watches it glitter free with a detached sort of curiosity, only seeming to realize after the fact when it has all run out and her hand is still poised over the shore. She blinks then, her hand falling back between her feet, palm pressing into the cool kiss of the beach for a moment before swiping up another handful of crushed starlight and repeating the process.

Her other hand hangs over the bend of her knees, limply holding the neck of her bottle of tequila. It's more full than not, but the slow tilt of it back to her lips suggests she means to see the bottom by the time she wears this night out. Clouds hang overhead with a threat of rain, but the sky's been tossing that same warning out all season and she's grown tired of shaping her day around the bluff of water.

She's barefoot, her boots and socks haphazardly cast aside nearby along with her chaps. She keeps her duster on though, some proof against the possible downpour, so it covers most of her shirt. Her jeans rise out of it though, legs loosely sprawled before her as she sits hunkered in the sand, leaning into the wind. The occasional breeze lifts just the tail of her hair up off her shoulder, where it flutters for a moment before falling.

Colt

You and your memory, one, me and this bar, none

Flora

The door of the lighthouse creaks softly behind her as Flora steps out, the air warm and heavy with the promise of yet another rainstorm. Her sundress is a stubborn splash of brightness against the grey sky, light fabric stirring around her thighs as the wind runs curious fingers through it. Her curls are a tangled, salt-damp crown, the kind of frizz that only happens after getting caught in a downpour and choosing not to care about it in the slightest. Gold rings glitter on her fingers as she brushes a curl off her cheek, their shine picked up by the moody light.

She picks her way down the slope from the shrine, toes sinking into the cool, pale sand; Aumakua always feels half like a dream, all sky and sea and stars blurring together. The shape on the shoreline catches her eye: boots abandoned, tequila bottle hanging loose, posture familiar in a way that tugs at her memory. Colt.

Flora's smile sparks instantly, bright as the glint off the water. She lifts a hand over her head in an easy wave. "Hey!" she calls, voice carrying cleanly across the surf. As she comes closer, sand clinging to her ankles like bracelets, she tips her head, curls falling forward with the motion. "Well this is convenient," she says, amusement threading through her tone as she slows to a stop just beside her. "I was literally about to send you a letter."

I don't like that falling feels like flying
'til the bone crush

Code stolen from Queen Sky

If movin' on had a scoreboard, It'd say

The yelled greeting makes her head turn, sand carelessly forgotten as her hand tilts too far with the motion and dumps it all in one go. She squints under the brim of her hat, though there's no light to try and ward off, just habit in an attempt to focus in on the figure coming towards her. The familiarity lands once Flora gets closer, Colt's chin tipping up with effort to see the queen's face. "Hey," she greets in easy return, though it's subdued by thoughts reluctant to scatter at Flora's intrusion.

An eyebrow sketches up in quiet wonder of what could be convenient about trying to get drunk on a beach. Had to get the bottle ahead of time and carry it with her, not nearly as simple as lounging on a bar, which is where she had started when coming to get the broken-now-fixed horse she left here. That's when she'd heard talk of this place, starlight being the key word for her. She could have purchased something smaller, but she needs to get through this bottle to have something to carry the sand home with. Although her boot might have to do depending on when she passes out.

"A letter?" she parrots, like the idea is novel. "What for?" Tiring of craning her neck her attention drifts back out to look over the sea, surveying the surf. "Need a horse?" she reasons, figuring there's business to be had.

Colt

You and your memory, one, me and this bar, none

Flora

Flora nods at the question, the motion loose and sunny as she steps closer and lets the wind push the hem of her dress against her legs. She comes to a comfortable stop near Colt’s feet, the sand firm and cool beneath her toes, and her grin curls wider as she shakes her head. "No horse needed," she says, laughter threading through the words. "My best friend can turn into a pegasus now, so I’m pretty set for horses I think." Her curls lift in the breeze again, catching against the curve of her cheek like sea foam getting ideas, and when she tucks them back there’s a spark of mischief in her aqua eyes.

"Actually," she adds, tilting her chin toward Colt with a conspiratorial gleam, "my bestie is the girl you played strip poker with during LongNight." The grin that follows is bright and irrepressible, blooming across her face like sun breaking through the storm-thick clouds overhead. "Soh had a blast," Flora continues, fingers brushing the gold rings at her hip as if tapping out the memory’s rhythm. "We were talking the other day and thought it might be fun to do a girls’ weekend at the House of Midnight—pampering, dumb decisions, questionable fashion choices, the usual."

She leans in just enough to make the offer feel warm rather than formal, curls slipping forward again in the wind. "And we wanted to know if you wanted to come."

I don't like that falling feels like flying
'til the bone crush

Code stolen from Queen Sky

If movin' on had a scoreboard, It'd say

Surprise races rampant across her features at the mention of shifting into a pegasus. For a brief, wild moment, she's certain that Flora means Sunjata, and that Flora's come here on his behalf to tell her what an ass she'd just been to him. Perhaps, even to say she could stay here in Torchline then, no longer welcome in King's End. Some odd mixture of yeah, I deserve that and fuck you rises up inside her in response, hot and bitter in all the worst ways.

Fortunately, the moment barely has enough time to spark, much less catch, Flora's voice supplying a horse of a different color before Colt's scenario can gallop away further into ire and regret. "Oh," she says with a short, brittle laugh. It works to fracture imagination back to reality, the exhaled word a relief. She props her open hand up on her knee and leans into it, clearly needing something more steadying if the thought...

"I didn't know she could turn into a pegasus," she muses of Soh's new shift, a dreamy effect to her words. "Lucky," Her tongue clucks out the 'L' as she says it, and though it's not clear if she means the luck belongs to Soh or Flora, it doesn't matter much because it isn't hers either way. She's about to verify Soh's name when Flora gives it, not that Colt has a wide array of strip poker experiences with Floras besties, but there's more than one and she can't speak to all who are in the queen's inner circle.

Not terribly concerned with the fact Soh has gone and shared the event with others, a bit of a smirk replaces all the quiet wonder, some of her usual edge breaking in past the mire she's worked herself into. "That was a fun night, in the end. She won for us, actually." A rather fond memory of this past Longnight now, admittedly. Though she does her best not to let her mind wander from that evening, not right now at least.

The rest of the party planning Flora lays out sounds like the usual chance for trouble that she doesn't mind jotting her name beside. It's certainly more appealing than this, so without hesitation she nods to the invitation with a gleam in her gaze and a crooked tug on her face. "Fuck yeah, I'm always down for raisin' hell." Maybe she'd even get to ride another pegasus, if she played her cards right. "That sounds perfect just about now, actually. Just say when and I'm there. I can even bring cookies."

Colt

You and your memory, one, me and this bar, none

Flora

Flora’s whole face brightens at Colt’s reaction, pride blooming through her expression like sunrise finally pushing its way across the sea after a week of storms. "I know, right? So cool," she says, delighted in that instinctive, best-friend way that turns her voice warm and effervescent. Sohalia sprouting wings is one of those things she’ll never get tired of bragging about.

And when Colt agrees—easily, wholeheartedly—Flora feels that warmth deepen, her grin widening until it feels like the breeze could carry it all the way back to the lighthouse. "Perfect," she says, nodding with a glow of satisfaction. "I think everyone could use a spa break. Deepfrost felt about three years long this time."

She lifts her brows as Colt mentions cookies, her expression going theatrically impressed. "Cookies?" she echoes, nodding emphatically as if this instantly elevates Colt to VIP status. "Absolutely. That’s exactly the energy we need."

Settling into the sand more comfortably, she tucks a curl behind her ear before glancing back down at Colt, eyes bright with the loose, easy excitement of planning something fun instead of something political. "Do you know Melita? We were going to invite her too."

I don't like that falling feels like flying
'til the bone crush

Code stolen from Queen Sky

If movin' on had a scoreboard, It'd say

A laugh huffs free, more exhale than sound, but it’s there all the same in agreement of the very long Deepfrost. ”I’d almost welcome it back if it meant less mud,” she mutters as an aside, although she’s been happily free of it since touching down here. There’s more than mud bothering her this season that hadn’t been in Deepfrost, but whatever the issue, the only way out is through. She just wants to forget a bit of the in-between, much preferring to focus on the destination than the journey about now.

The magic of baked goods continues to work its charm. Flora’s enthusiasm for the offer drags out a more resilient smile, and she confirms with a slow nod, yes, cookies. All things considered, cookies are a small section of a girl’s night, but snacks should never be underrated, no matter the occasion.

Relaxing better into the conversation, her eye traces the glint off a ring as Flora’s hand moves. ”Melita?” she repeats, less from confusion than certainty. ”Oh yeah, we’ve sparred a few times, and I channeled her last season during my last night out at the House.” A truer laugh releases now, grin cutting in sharp with the memory of the mischief. ”She made it rain ducks on a hydra Sunjata so we could make a clean getaway. He was understandably upset that we egged his business.” She shrugs, since he had not been too annoyed that it became a thing, not that anyway, although maybe it fed into the way their last encounter chafed on them both. She couldn’t say, but she figured he could easily wash the yokes away compared to most, one of the only reasons she’d targeted him at all. ”She’s fun. Would be good to see her let loose more.” Fun, but fierce in a way that made Colt stand up straighter usually.

Colt

You and your memory, one, me and this bar, none

Flora

Flora laughs under her breath, the sound warm and rolling like the tide nudging at the shore. She shakes her head, curls bouncing in their damp, salt-tangled state. "Speak for yourself," she teases, eyes bright with mock offense at the idea of welcoming Deepfrost back. "I’ll take mud over short days anytime."

The mention of Melita being channelled earns a delighted lift of her brows. "She’s gotten popular," Flora says with an amused little snicker, clearly entertained by the idea of Melita’s chaotic spirit bouncing between people like a lit fuse. "My boyfriend channelled her twice during LongNight."

When Colt gets to the part about rainstorms of ducks and a hydra-shaped Sunjata, Flora lets out a proper laugh, one hand braced lightly on her hip as if she needs something to hold herself up. "I can't say I'm surprised," she says, grinning wide. "And she’s Sunjata’s niece, I dunno if you knew that, so he probably won’t hold a grudge for toooooo long anyhow." The drawn-out vowels are playful, knowingly exaggerated, like she’s choosing optimism by sheer force of will.

Still smiling, she nods, a pleased glow settling into her expression. "Cool. I’ll get something set up then for the four of us then. Does near the end of the season or early LongHeat work for you?"

I don't like that falling feels like flying
'til the bone crush

Code stolen from Queen Sky

If movin' on had a scoreboard, It'd say

A touch surprised, Colt asks without needing an answer, "is she?" She hadn't known that, but it likely served her best in the long run. "Hmm, makes sense why he didn't seem all that surprised by the ducks. Guess it was a good thing I called her then." Colt's grin lingers at the thought, knowing now in hindsight that Sunjata had not been doing much besides posturing, although perhaps if he'd been struck by her channel instead of just given an assortment of ducks to clean up alongside eggs he might have been less amenable to it all. Luckily he could take a hit or two, worst case.

Hopefully this other night out wouldn't end so messy. "Any time really, I'm pretty much always in town and can make room for a night or two." That she says as much while currently sitting in Torchline is not a lie, because pretty much covers these odd out of town visits here and there. Besides, she'd be headed back home come dawn. Much as the change of scenery helped to some extent, for others it didn't, and she's much rather wallow in the comfort of her home than on a beach glittering with reminders. In fact, maybe she'd just get an early start on that.

With a low sigh she takes another swig of her tequila then dumps it out in the sand, gaze trailing after the dark, wet rivulets it cuts through. "Promise I won't commit any party fouls like this the night of," she reassures Flora with a small smile. "Just think I should be on my way back home and gotta make sure I'll stay on my horse when I do." With the bottle well and emptied, she scoops up another handful of the sand and this time pours it into the empty container, which she repeats until it's nearly full. "Besides, it was a shit brand." Purchased with too few options and with more intent on its container to hold this starlight than anything else. She could have made it work, but nothing seems to be dulling the edge these days anyway.

Rising to her feet and getting back into her boots, Colt straightens with the bottle of shimmering sand and offers to accompany Flora back to the main part of Torchline so she can get her horse and get her on her way, and the Queen can get back to her party planning and other political affairs.

[FIN]

Colt

You and your memory, one, me and this bar, none