tell that devil

flora

Flora stares at Jack, utterly baffled, the edges of her anger fraying into genuine confusion as his words sink in. "How dare I?" she echoes, incredulous, her voice shaking slightly under the weight of disbelief. "You honestly think I did all this to spite you? That I sat down one night and decided, hey, let me just burn everything down around me for fun, because gods forbid I act like a queen and put my region ahead of myself?"

She shakes her head sharply, curls swaying as she tries to find her footing in a storm of misunderstanding. "I did this for Torchline, Jack. And yeah, fine, you're right—maybe I was feeling hopeless and scared, and you told me not to throw in the towel, so I fucking didn't. But now you're mad because I was fucking inspired by what you said?"

Her mind spills backward to their fight in the Greatwood, a memory edged in bitter confusion and unresolved hurt. She can feel the old wound reopen as though fresh, his voice echoing in her thoughts: If you can't trust the decisions I make and the reasons I make 'em... Which, you know, ironic considering trust seems exactly what he can't extend to her. Flora's mental landscape ripples with frustrated bewilderment; tendrils of doubt twist through her thoughts, tangling themselves around every memory of that day until she's unsure what truth she's even supposed to be arguing anymore.

"Yes, Jack, we agreed to try," she continues, quieter now, a soft tremor beneath the words betraying just how deeply this has cut. "And your way of making it work was what? Ghosting me for weeks on end? I'm sorry, but I don't want to hear another bullshit excuse about how you needed space or time, because when you're actually with someone, that's maybe a day or two—not half a godsdamn season."

Jack says he's leaving, and Flora's eyes narrow, lips pressed into a bitter, weary line. A muttered thought slips quietly from her lips, barely audible, yet laced with an ache of truth: "You were always so worried I couldn't handle your life—blood on your hands at midnight, shady deals behind closed doors, the dark and dangerous man I'd chosen. But you know what, Jack? I never pretended to be anything other than exactly what I am—a dramatic, spoiled, sometimes selfish queen. You knew that. Gods, you can—" literally read my mind.

She inhales sharply, aqua gaze fixed on him, sorrow and clarity tangled together in a single moment of realization. "Maybe you're the one who couldn't stomach the person you chose. For the record though, I am sorry for making you feel unsafe. I thought.." Biting at the inside of her cheek and willing herself to articulate an apology worthy of what was probably their last fucking conversation, the queen squints up into the sun. "...with the mageglass, the revivify feather...I mean it's you Jack. If there was retribution to be had I was going to do everything I could to make sure it didn't land on you." Hence why she was now living on a fucking boat. "But I never thought it was something you couldn't handle."

Turning her back on him, Flora moves to the railing, gripping the polished wood until her knuckles pale. "Don't bother," she murmurs bitterly, refusing to look back. "Once the Ark is gone, I'll have my sunshine back anyway." And even though her voice is steady, Jack will feel the way that sentence cracks open in her mind, sunshine spilling out as a metaphor for everything they'd been—bright, radiant, and apparently devastatingly temporary.

The rumors are terrible and cruel
But honey, most of them are true

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

JACK

Flora cracks open just as Jack shuts down, and gods if that isn’t also a metaphor for the entire dazzling mess they’d been, he doesn’t know what is. ”I was mad at you ‘cause you didn’t seem to think your plan would’ve been better with my help. I was mad ‘cause you never once considered that Dahlia might ask you to spill all your secrets while you were infected - secrets that weren’t entirely yours to tell. You ever think what The Family could do with someone like me? I do. I’ve seen inside the Reaper. I think about it a lot.”

Huffing out a humourless laugh as that apology finally, finally comes, too little and too late, all the things that would have made all the difference even seconds before do little more than batter against doors that are firmly closed and locked now. ”What was it you said to me at the Greatwood?” he mutters, stepping back to the rope still pooled against her deck. ”Just ‘cause we know what we are isn’t an excuse not to do somethin’ about it. Not that it matters any more. You can keep bein’ spoiled and selfish, an’ I’ll keep bein’ an asshole.”

He leans down to tie a quick knot that will let him step into the rope to brace against it while the crew hoist him back up. ”Angle yourself inland - you can ride the tide to shore even without much wind,” he advises, setting his boot into the makeshift stirrup. Whistling sharply up to the crew and giving the rope a tug, movement from above heralds his departure in just a few more seconds.

sometimes we put our hearts in the wrong places
(what the fuck is it doing between your teeth?)

Code stolen from Queen Sky

flora

Flora stands rooted to the deck as Jack’s words strike her like stones, each one bruising deeper than she thought possible after everything they’ve already hurled at each other. She'd taken a risk, the outcome of which apparently didn't matter to Jack, given the stakes. Her shoulders tense with the weight of accusations that land too heavily, too accurately. I was trying to protect you, her thoughts whisper helplessly, though she doesn’t give it voice—because what good is that truth now, frayed and threadbare between them?

The finality in Jack’s tone makes something inside Flora splinter sharply, a delicate fracture spider-webbing out through her consciousness, through memories of tangled limbs in linen sheets, whispered promises under the hush of starlit skies, the way Jack had always known how to touch her—not just her body, but the very core of her, bright and sharp and vulnerable.

She watches silently as he knots the rope, feeling utterly stranded now in more ways than one, the ocean vast and empty around her like an echo of how painfully alone she feels. His advice, delivered in the same cool, practical tone he'd use with any other sailor, twists like a knife in her gut, and as he tugs on the rope and signals his crew, Flora finally moves, turning away abruptly so he won’t see the sheen of tears that threaten at the corners of her eyes. "Yeah," she says, voice softer now, stripped of its earlier defiance and spite, "I'll manage."

She sinks down onto the rail, staring unseeing at the waves, feeling the warmth of the sun return as the shadow of the Ark finally moves away. Yet the sunlight now feels like a cruel joke, illuminating a world that's suddenly too empty and too vast. And Jack will feel it clearly—the way Flora's mental landscape floods quietly with resignation, grief, and a heavy certainty that they've both lost something neither will ever admit was precious until far too late.

~FIN

The rumors are terrible and cruel
But honey, most of them are true

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!