Shia surprise

It’s like falling into deep water. Like too much sun on the warmest day of the year, like getting up too quickly after eating nothing for hours. Nothing can prepare for the way all parts of her - the essence of her - flees beneath the prick of one small golden rose thorn, dragging with it all that had carried her here to Caido through to cold depths of the cosmos. Dahlia wilts under heat and blood, gasping breathlessly around the air she sucks into her lungs.

She’s so weak, and even the disbelieving laughter that wheezes out of her body is little more than a choked, high note in the crimson drenched streets. The hands that seize her body - the shell of her body, it feels - are too large, too rough, too warm - and though she screams and struggles, there’s very little to it.

Subdued, she slumps against the grip of those who apprehend her. Empty, finished, gone.

Everything is gone.

let me put my lips to something
let me wrap my teeth around the world

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

flora

Even as Remi’s magic threads warmth back into her veins, Flora’s not sure she can feel it.

The pain had been too bright. The fear, too loud. And now everything in her is scattered, like broken glass across a sunlit floor. Her pulse trips unevenly, like her heart is trying to decide whether it should keep going or not. Some part of her still expects Dahlia’s claws, still feels the phantom burn of them deep in her side, as if that pain has been etched directly into her bones.

And yet—

There are arms around her. Real ones. Safe ones.

Remi’s voice presses into her like a balm, wrapping around the ragged edges of her mind, and though her body trembles with the aftermath, her head turns weakly against his chest. She can feel the beat of his heart there, anchoring her.

She breathes in once. Tries again. Then manages to mumble, voice nearly lost to the sticky rasp of blood in her throat:

“…was supposed to meet…my ghost…”

Her ghost friend. A tea date. Something innocent and sweet and so far removed from blood-soaked cobblestones and the gaping jaws of death. Something that suddenly seems more important than anything else.

But the effort of saying even that much is too much. Her lashes flutter once, twice, and then close completely, her body slumping in Remi’s hold as unconsciousness takes her at last.

My house of stone, your ivy grows
And now I'm covered in you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

RONIN

the white knight

light is easy to love.

Ronin doesn’t truly believe that they’ve done it until Sunjata is manhandling Dahlia to the ground, until her struggles are those of a regular human, no trace of claws or void-drenched power to be seen. There’s relief, cool and dizzying, that coasts across the current of exhaustion that floods his veins, and the knowledge that it’s done, that they’ve done it, is enough to bring the Knight to his knees.

Around him he can sense Remi, knowing and trusting inherently that Flora is safe in his arms, and it’s with a weak smile that he glances between them all. ”We need to take Dahlia to Haulani,” he says, blinking hard to force himself to focus. ”Somewhere the rest of The Family can’t get to her. And quickly, before they realise what has happened.”

Levering himself to his knees, he nods towards Sunjata. ”I can do it, if you can take Flora and Remi to the House of Midnight?” He knows his husband is more than capable, and knows a well that he’s given of himself to sew the Doubletake’s wounds shut. As such, he’ll always feel more comfortable to know they are all safe and apart from all that has just happened.

show me your darkness.

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

but baby i've been here before; i've seen this room and i've walked this floor

Remi shakes his head without lifting it, curls bent low over the small, bloodied figure in his arms. His wings arch tighter around her as Dahlia’s struggles weaken, a protective shell of brilliant feathers and trembling muscle. The sound of Flora’s voice—thready and soft, stumbling over ghosts and tea and something heartbreakingly gentle—nearly undoes him all over again. “I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs, brushing her damp curls back from her face, assuming her words just the prelude to unconsciousness rather than a reference to a missed appointment. “I’m sorry.”

And when she slips under, limp in his hold, Remi breathes out shakily, something between a prayer and a curse catching in the back of his throat. He doesn’t look at Dahlia. Doesn’t dare. The fact that she’s breathing at all tests the outer limits of his restraint, and it’s only Ronin’s earlier suggestion—that she might still be useful, a thread to pull—that keeps Remi from snapping her neck where she slumps.

Even now, even empty, she has too much of Flora’s blood beneath her nails.

So when Ronin speaks—when his husband’s voice floats past the static in his ears and offers the more rational path forward—Remi doesn’t laugh, though he nearly does. Instead he lifts his gaze, flicking briefly to Sunjata before settling on Ronin, and offers a short, rough exhale in reply. Agreement. Tension. Everything he doesn’t have the words for right now.

Then, without ceremony, he rises. Wings spreading slightly to keep Flora shielded, he curls her closer to his chest, her limbs cradled against his ribs as if his body alone could protect her from memory.

“I’m sure Hotaru has ways to help distract her,” he mumbles, his voice rough with wear and grief and something that sounds like gratitude buried deep in the grain. “If you and the rest of the House have a room to spare, if course.”

SUNJATA

the flood

but am i too late? or hearts to your spades,
if i don't suit you? then what do you want from me?

So feeble, so small beneath his hands, there’s the urge there to abandon everything and simply take her out permanently. To let his water run through her until she can’t breathe, choking and drowning on something that often gave life. But he doesn’t, even if his fingers twitch against where he holds Dahlia confined, jaw grit tight as he looks to Ronin with gratitude, as his hEARs pick up the low thready whisper from Flora.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” He murmurs without a second of hesitation, shifting to hand Dahlia off to Ronin, looking back to Remi with the same set to his jaw - the tension that grits against his temples and his jaw. She was alive, she would be fine, and he didn’t have to deal with a repeat performance of things so long in the past.

Finally, that bloated breath that’s been stuck in his throat like taffy loosens, exhales in a sigh and a small smile offered - as much as they can muster up with the adrenaline that blooms. “She will. And we do. We always do for you guys.” He says softly - uncaring who he had to kick out in order to make sure that they’d have a comfortable space.

Hell, he’d offer his own home if it weren’t for the fact that the House of Midnight would at least allow to make a comfortable space for Flora to wake up in. And as Remi rises, Sunjata’s wings flare out, too, offering a dark black, leathered and scarred shield against Remi’s back as he focuses on ensuring Flora is shielded. “We can get whatever you need.” He murmurs softly as they start to walk toward the House of Midnight, a wagon on the outskirts awaiting them.

And its with a soft nod back to Ronin, a promise that they’d be well taken care of.

- FIN

so we're not written in the stars,
but i'm okay with that. i'm okay with anything