En otra vida, en otro mundo podrá ser

flora

Her grin stretches slowly across her face, blooming like dawn against the storm-tossed landscape they’ve just crawled out of, her whole body responding to the idea before she can even speak. There’s something so wildly, dramatically perfect about it—married at the top of the world—that she laughs, bright and breathless, her curls falling forward with the motion as she nods hard enough to scatter her thoughts. "I love it," she gasps, nearly bouncing as she throws her arms around him again, nearly nose-to-nose with the boy who somehow knew exactly the kind of ridiculous, romantic, exclusive chaos her heart always leaned toward. The idea of dragons wheeling above, of cloud-thick air and wind-snatched vowels, of danger and spectacle and a place that only they could reach, gods, it’s not just a good idea, it’s so her she could scream. "It’s perfect," she whispers, beaming.

Still reeling, her limbs restless with joy and something perilously close to disbelief, she brushes her nose against his as he presses his forehead to hers, unable to keep from leaning into the feeling of him like he’s a warm sunspot on the floor of a long-abandoned room. "That was always my plan, actually," she murmurs, laughter curling at the edges of the words even as her throat catches on the realness of this moment, the solidity of him. "I've already been saving for it." Being able to bring Kai to her side at a moment's notice, or she to his was no easy cheap feat, but once the idea had occurred to her, she'd immediately set about making it theirs. "Just leave that to me."” She shrugs playfully, but her heart is flipping in her chest like a landed fish, too overcome to sit still beneath her ribs.

When he suggests the hair ties, she giggles again, her lashes fluttering as she presses her forehead more firmly to his, joy anchoring her like a mooring line to the realness of this. The image is so perfect; a secret wrapped around their wrists like old vows and childhood promises, invisible to the world but so heavy with meaning that she can already feel the shape of it pressing into her skin. "Yes," she breathes, voice soft and urgent and delighted. "It can just be our secret for a little while." Like the wish he'd once upon wished for on a star. She bites her bottom lip, joy trembling at the edge of her teeth, but then something else rises beneath it, something breathless and blooming and sharp with anticipation.

The thought crashes into her like a rogue wave. Her lips part as her breath hiccups in her chest, the laughter faltering but not fading, replaced by a surge of emotion so intense it makes her eyes shine brighter, her voice gentler. She swallows, gaze locked to his like it’s the only solid thing in the world. "But..." she starts, faltering on a whisper, her grin flickering with something more fragile. "If you were serious about getting married now," There’s giddy optimism coiled tight beneath the words, adrenaline already humming beneath her skin, her fingertips pressing into his like they might anchor her to the possibility. "Because...most weddings in Torchline are done by Safrin," she says softly, "and I could channel her here, now.."

A nervous little laugh escapes her throat, shaky and full of wonder. "Or, I mean, if there’s someone else you want, or we can wait, or—" She shakes her head quickly, golden curls bouncing, cheeks flushed with hope and uncertainty both. She doesn’t want to pressure him, doesn’t want to cling to something he only said in the height of emotion. But gods, if he did mean it, then it feels like every star she's ever seen in her whole life is aligning. Because suddenly the idea of waiting feels impossible, like asking her to breathe underwater or walk away from a home that had only just formed beneath her feet. Her eyes are shining with a love that is still too big for her body, and her voice lowers with breathless awe. "Because I would marry you right this second." Or, however long it would take to sit up and channel, anyway.

Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness
'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

When enemies are at your door, I'll carry you way from war

He's certain he can do anything in the world right about now, her love and agreement buoying him up to such heights that any obstacle feels immensely small. Gods, the way she's not just laughing, but shining, a whole sun swallowed down and surely blazing away in her chest with how dazzling she is every time her lips part. The joy is so immense that it feels too incredible to look at outright, but he keeps trying to steal glances anyway, eager to know the entirety of its design.

That she's had a similar thought, that she's already making steps to arrange a version of it in their rings, it knocks the wind from him in an awed way. He pulls back further, gaze sweeping across her with a growing crest of delight. "See!" he exclaims, a hand drawn free to rattle her shoulder briefly in emphasis. "This is why we finish each other's leftovers!" Two minds, one mouth, as it were. He sinks back down with a disbelieving huff, unwilling to stray from her touch longer than needed right now, nose dipping back to brush hers.

Swept up in the tide of the moment as he is, he's never been more sure that this is what he wants. That she is who he wants at his side until Mort finally claims them. He wants no further doubt, no more time wasted waiting for perfection. He'll have her now, messy and wild and salt-flecked, because he'll have her forever and build perfection out of every moment they spend together. "Flora, I'm serious." The hand on her cheek drops to pinch her chin, holding the sight of her steady as he leans back, wonder and adoration bowing beneath certainty.

"I want to marry you," he breathes, his lungs holding air in the back of his throat after he says them. Not out of fear, or worry, or even nerves, but the quiet, cracking disbelief that this moment is here, real and present and possible. It's so far from the first time her lips had met his, when he'd thought they'd only have a night to know this feeling. "I want to marry you, now. And tomorrow. And the next day. A hundred times, because it's always you Flora. Forever and then some." His smile flutters back to life around the admission, promise and potential replacing hope. He doesn't just want to, he means to.

His expression stretches out wider at the sound of her flushed in a rare way, bubbling with something shy. It's adorably reassuring to know she's quivering with the possibilities too, but it simply won't do. With effort to depart, he props himself back into a crouch, reaching to pull her up with him as he rises. No more wondering, no more uncertainty, it'll be now. "Oooooone...." he begins to count, grinning, this second already starting to escape as a daring laugh breaks out of his chest. His hand pulses over hers, the movement rich with meaning. It's a silent I love you, an endless I've got you, from one corner of the world to the next. "Where are the hairties? I'll get them. Call whoever you want, even Safrin, if you think she's the best suited." The mother of his ex, scored by his failure to love her properly is maybe not his first choice for their union, but he'll trust in Flora's awareness of the thing's they've dismantled to build something for themselves.

Kaisel

If you need help, I'll shut down the city lights

flora

Giggling helplessly as Kaisel shakes her, her limbs loose and breath caught somewhere in the dazzle of it all, Flora can only smile like the sea’s poured starlight straight into her chest. She’s breathless and buoyant and hopelessly in love, his nose brushing hers like punctuation to a sentence she never wants to end. For a moment she just stays like that, curled close to him in the quiet tremble of the aftermath, marvelling at the realness of this—how he’s here, how he’s hers, how something as fragile as a heart could possibly be strong enough to hold this kind of joy. Her lips ache from smiling, her cheeks flushed with warmth that doesn’t know where to go anymore because it’s in everything; her pulse, her bones, her fingertips.

And then he’s holding her chin, and she’s tilting into it like it’s instinct, and when she looks at him it’s like seeing something carved into her soul. The dark silk of his hair curling near his cheek, his copper eyes bright as hammered metal and so devastatingly open, like he’s never wanted anything more than her in his whole, wild life. The way his features soften for her, their edges etched by salt and wind and laughter, makes her feel like she’s holding something precious and ancient, like a prayer she’s been whispering into the world for years has finally been answered, right here in front of her, in the shape of a boy whose grin could gut her with joy.

Forever and then some.

The words ripple down her spine like music, and Flora’s breath staggers out of her as if she’d been holding it all this time. Her chest swells with it, lungs too small to contain the enormity of what she feels, because it’s not just forever that she wants, it’s everything beyond it. She wants lifetimes. She wants next worlds. She wants whatever comes after starlight fades and gravity gives up and they're hurled into Mort's realm. "Forever and then some," she echoes, barely a whisper, and her voice is full of glittering awe, of a greedy, bottomless kind of love that makes her tilt her head back and laugh softly, trying to contain the supernova erupting behind her ribs.

When he moves, she’s already reaching for him, fingers curling around his to pull herself upright with hima. "I’ll get them," she hums, and then she’s gone in a rush of messy curls and bare feet, padding quickly into the bedroom of the Sugartide and yanking open the drawer where all her odds and ends live. The hairties she picks out aren’t special, at least not to anyone else. One’s a deep, burnt orange, just a little faded, and the other is a watery blue, both stretched from wear, and as close to the colour of their eyes as her collection allows for. But in her hands now, they may as well be forged from stardust and promise, more sacred than gold. She holds them like vows, trembling just slightly as she steps back into the room.

The orange one, the closest she has to copper, she presses into his palm without a word, her fingers brushing his as she holds it there. Her blue one she clasps in her own hand like it holds all her future. Her voice is velvet when it comes, hushed and radiant and steeped in too much love to contain properly. "Safrin?" she whispers as her gaze lifts, shimmering with happy tears. "I can’t wait even a second more without being married to this man. Would you—" her voice catches, breath hitches, and she bites her lip, swallowing the overwhelmed joy like it’s ambrosia, "—would you do the honours?"

And gods, the anticipation floods her veins like champagne. Her whole body sings with it, skin glowing with the press of love that’s blooming brighter than any star. She clutches the blue hairtie against her chest, breath held, heart open and so impossibly ready.

Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness
'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

'till your fingers decompose

Safrin arrives without sound, the air at the foot of the narrow stairs brightening as though the night itself has drawn a breath and decided to exhale light. Lilac and starlight gather, fold, and then resolve into her; whole, radiant, untroubled by the smallness of the space or the intimacy of it. The houseboat does not creak beneath her presence; it steadies, as if grateful.

Her attention lifts immediately to the kitchenette and to the pair standing there together. If there are thoughts for Jack in her mind, they do not rise to the surface, nor do thoughts of her daughter and Kaisel's fumbling attempt at winning her heart. If anything, Safrin more than appreciates his unwillingness to feign loyalty where none would ever truly grow, but for the one now at his side. 

Safrin's eyes soften, dipping to the hair ties clasped between their fingers, with her own telepathy filling in what words have not bothered with: the scramble of emotion, the urgency that has stripped ceremony down to its truest bones, the reason Flora stands barefoot and puffy-eyed, tank top clinging, hair a mess of love and nerves rather than pearls and veils. Safrin’s smile widens, radiant rather than indulgent, approval rather than judgment written plainly across her face. "It would indeed be my honour."

Starlight brightens around her, not blinding, but close and tender, like the glow of a hearth. "With the blessing of all the stars," Safrin continues, "now that you have found one another, let not the darkness of the night ever trouble you, as you shall never again face it alone." Her gaze moves between them, luminous and steady. "And let not a single day beneath the sun be taken for granted, for such days are gifts, and they are fleeting."

She inclines her head, a subtle gesture toward the simple bands in their hands, inviting the exchange without hurry or spectacle. When the hair ties pass from one to the other, starlight spills free, looping from wrist to wrist in a soft, endless arc; an infinite figure drawn in light. It lingers only a heartbeat before fading, leaving the bands faintly dusted with sparkle, as though the stars themselves have brushed against them and chosen to stay just a little. 

"Love one another well," Safrin says, the words warm, intimate, and unadorned. Then the light surges, lilac and starlight rushing back in on themselves, and she is gone.

keep my hand in yours.

When enemies are at your door, I'll carry you way from war

She isn't gone long, but the world suddenly feels vast and empty and far too fast the moment she's left his side, even though he's still in the tiny kitchenette and the meadows outside are doing nothing more than bowing stems to breeze. Before he can really lose belief in reality and convince himself this is a dream, she returns. Despite the utterly ordinary, if not mussed state of her dress, his bride to be has never looked so gorgeous as in the moment she shuffles to his side. The whisper of her bare feet draws out a giddy laugh, half eager anticipation cresting over and over into itself, and half memory of her padding down her stairs in a similar dress to fight him over ice cream.

The orange band warms quickly in his palm as she places it. He glances down at the unassuming circle of elastic and cloth, so small, so light, and yet impossibly important to him now. It's weighted with every moment he's created with this woman at his side, trembling with the opportunity to make hundreds more, yet for the enormity of that responsibility, he's somehow able to hold it aloft. “You think of everything,” he murmurs, the words soft and full, awe threading through them as he recognizes the two colors. Fingers curl around the hair tie like it might float away if he doesn’t hold tight, attention steadily climbing as she calls for Safrin.

His pulse surges so loudly it drowns out the world for a heartbeat, thudding in his ears as the air shifts. Divinity emerges from the unseen seams of what's possible, stitched together with what isn't. Kaisel straightens without thinking, shoulders squaring on instinct, posture pulled tall and respectful. One hand tightens around Flora’s, anchoring himself there at her side. Safrin’s presence presses close, luminous and immense, but like the shine of light finding a sequin, she surrounds Flora and bolsters her vibrancy instead of competing with it. Safrin is undeniably dazzling, but in this moment—Flora, his bride—nothing can compare to how exquisite and precious she is.

A thread of tension eases as Safrin provides wisdom and warmth. Her acceptance radiates out, a low heat that passes over him and settles, awe softening into something dangerously close to elation. When her gaze dips toward their hands and the hair ties there, inviting rather than commanding, Kaisel doesn’t hesitate.

With a reverence that borders on absurd, he takes the orange hair tie and slides it over Flora’s left wrist. His touch is not steady, not with his heart threatening to leap straight out of his chest it's so errant with anticipation. "Flora—you once were afraid you'd not be able to live up to the fantasy of you I'd built up in my mind...but I hope you believe now what I told you then—that I'm in this for you, not the fantasy. I want every moment, there is, with you, now and always." Once it's complete, his hands linger clasped over hers for half a second longer than necessary, thumb brushing against the soft underside of her wrist where her pulse flutters. Slowly he releases her, offering out his own wrist to her, eyes never straying from her face and every vision of joy cracking there, half of which is just a reflection mirroring his own. The starlight that dusts the simple bands feels like forever has finally taken a form beyond words, and with it a grin breaks free, the expanse of it threatening to be as eternal as his love.

"Married."

The word barely has time to form before he’s moving, laughter and disbelief tangling in his chest as he pulls Flora into him and kisses her, deep and sweeping and a touch messy and utterly unapologetic about it. The kiss is something stunned breaking into certainty, of promises bending to joy, of salt parting for laughter. It's lingering until he's dizzy and breathless, and when he finally draws back it's just enough to rest his forehead against hers, eyes bright and shining as they settle on the bands around their wrists, certain he’s just seen the stars rearrange themselves and make a place for the pair of them.

“My wife,” he hums, trying and failing to keep the laugh of raw and undiluted happiness from breaking free as his thumb brushes the starlit band at her wrist. Whatever future waits beyond this moment—wild, aching, brilliant —Kaisel stands ready for it, grounded by the weight of her hand in his and the simple, sacred truth now wrapped around their wrists.

Kaisel

If you need help, I'll shut down the city lights

flora

The moment Safrin appears, Flora's smile blooms wild and uncontainable, stretching until it feels like her entire body is grinning. Light pools in the little houseboat like someone’s peeled the sky open and poured it inside, and Flora’s chest swells until she thinks she might float away entirely. And gods, as Kaisel stands up straighter beside her—his shoulders square, his jaw set, every inch of him humming with reverence and awe—Flora feels something girlish flutter through her like wings caught in a storm, fragile and dizzy and impossibly bright. He looks so handsome, so serious, so hers. The pulse beneath her skin thrums like temple bells. Suddenly a touch self-conscious of her attire but unwilling to step away, she simply clutches his hand tighter and presses it to her chest like his touch is the only thing she needs to wear.

She tries to hold her breath, tries to be still and reverent and let the moment carry her, but gods, when Kai begins to speak, as the engagement ring glints on her shaking hand as he slides the orange hairtie onto her wrist, she forgets how to not laugh. It bubbles out of her in gasping little bursts, joy shimmering between her ribs like something carbonated and divine. Her smile warps the edges of her composure, makes her shoulders tremble with the effort of keeping her whole when she already feels like stardust scattered into a thousand little moments, every single one of them his.

Her fingers tremble so badly when he offers his wrist in return that she misses completely the first time, slipping the hairtie over three of his fingers before laughter softly and trying again. "Sorry," she breathes, giggling, eyes watery with laughter and tears. And then, as she draws the blue band over his wrist and watches it settle there, as familiar and miraculous as a sunrise, she lifts her gaze and everything slows, stretches, softens. "Kaisel," she says, his name a vow all its own, the weight of it wrapped in velvet. "I see exactly who you are, on your best days and worst, and there is no one else I want. No one else who could make me feel this safe, this happy, this loved." Her voice shakes, but it doesn’t falter. "I want the good days and the hard ones. All of our highest highs and lowest lows. I want the everything of you, and all that life has to offer, for forever and then some."

Light spills across their wrists, Safrin’s final gift settling into the bands with a warmth that lingers, but Flora hardly notices. Not when Kai is already pulling her in, not when his lips are already claiming hers, but it’s impossible to kiss him properly with how much she’s smiling. Their laughter tangles between them like gold thread, every press of his lips a promise stitched into her skin. She wraps her hands around his cheeks, cradling his face like it’s something sacred, something spun from salt and sky, and when their foreheads press together again, when he breathes that single word—wife—something inside of her detonates.

She leaps into his arms with a delighted shriek, arms flung around his neck and legs curling around his waist, laughter spilling out of her like sunlight breaking over the sea. Her mouth is everywhere—his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids, the corners of his lips—all fluttering kisses like petals caught in a gale. And when she finally pulls back, perched in his arms and breathing like she’s run all the way to the gods and back, she gazes down at him with aqua eyes that glow like moonlight on tidewater, overflowing with everything that's far too big to put into words.

"My husband," she whispers, the word cracking open beneath the weight of her happiness, her love, her everything.

Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness
'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

When enemies are at your door, I'll carry you way from war

The shriek of pure, unfiltered delight she unleashes punches a laugh straight out of him as she launches herself into his arms. He catches her without thought, as if it's instinct to take her in, to hold her and keep her and cherish her. His arms lock around her, threading beneath her thighs to keep her up and held to him as her weight sinks against him, so familiar now his entire body strains to cradle her in full. He stumbles half a step with the force of it, breath loosened to a startled, joyful yell before he steadies, grinning so hard his face aches. “Flor—”

He doesn’t finish before the sound dissolves into low chuckles, glee rising like a cresting wave and then breaking into a seafoam spray that pops and fizzes beneath every kiss. She sends them everywhere, frantic with the inability to cover him all at once, each one a starburst of tingling sensation that echoes every bright, full feeling. He turns his head just enough to catch her mouth properly between the chaos, pressing a kiss back that’s all steady warmth and spent breath, certain he's been on a light headed high since she first said yes.

When she finally pulls back, perched in his arms and glowing like her heart has finally turned on and proven to be incandescent, he looks up at her like he might never look away again. “Say that again,” he murmurs, voice thick and honeyed with awe, his breath still coming fast as if his body hasn’t caught up to what just happened. “Your...what?” He’s already smiling too wide to pretend he doesn’t know, and where the word has already sunk into him, he feels something new take hold. Not heavy, but anchoring. His chest feels too full for a moment with it all, but every breath shoves out what he no longer has room for—fear, doubt, insecurity. What shadows remain don't take any shape from her, or her past, not anymore.

“My wife,” he repeats, softer now, like he’s tasting all the different ways he might say it. His thumb brushes against the curve of her ass in his palm, forehead rolling against hers. "My wife," he says softly, but there’s nothing gentle about the way it lands. The sound catches low in his throat before it can escape cleanly, carrying a possessive resonance that curls through the space between them. His fingers firm around her and he jostles her higher into him as he turns, stepping towards the bedroom out of memory rather than view. His arm bumps against the counter, staggering them off it and he chuckles into the slope of her, the sound falling away to a kiss that he folds into her, slow and lingering. Another follows, then another, until every footfall is a sweep of his mouth brushing devotion against her jaw, her cheek, her throat, breath warm and unhurried. They have forever now, after all.

Kaisel

If you need help, I'll shut down the city lights

flora

His mouth finds hers and the whole world rushes in behind it. The press of his lips still wild with laughter, still trembling with disbelief, still so entirely Kaisel that it sets every nerve in her skin to shiver. Flora melts into it without hesitation, surrendering to the gravity of his kiss like a wave folding into shore, her hands curling into his hair, her chest pressed tight to his like maybe they could trade hearts and no one would notice. The joy is so overwhelming, so enormous, it swallows the kiss whole, and when her lungs finally cry out for breath she breaks away on a gasp and a laugh, her forehead pressed to his temple, her mouth still open with the impossible stretch of her smile.

She tries to hold herself together when he asks, but the request alone unravels her. "Husband," she breathes, the word a song and a prayer and a spell all at once, clutched between her teeth like a secret and spoken with the kind of awe that belongs in fairytales. It tastes like magic and sounds like sunshine, and the sound of it leaving her mouth sends a giddy squeal tearing up her throat, helpless and uncontainable and absolutely perfect. Laughter bursts out of her like the spray from a shaken bottle, and she folds over him, giggling against the curve of his shoulder as her legs tighten around his waist, her curls tumbling forward as she bites her lip and tries to keep from dissolving entirely.

But when he says it back, her breath catches on the edge of it, sharp and sweet and so deep it feels like her heart might split open with the ache of it. "Yours," she agrees, voice breaking with the weight of it, and she nuzzles her nose against his like they’re the only people in the world who’ve ever loved like this, like this story is theirs alone. "For forever," she adds, her lips brushing his cheek, "and then some."

And then he’s kissing her again, slow and heady and reverent, and Flora lets herself drown in the feeling of it. Her fingers slip into his hair again, slow and affectionate, as if she can sculpt her joy into the shape of him, hold it between her palms. She grins into the kiss as he knocks against the counter, laughing softly as he steadies them, his mouth trailing lower. Her hands glide down his neck to anchor against his back, holding him like he’s become a vessel for all her joy, a place to pour the overwhelming flood of it, as if maybe that’s how she’ll keep from bursting.

And gods, while she knows it's foolish to think so, Flora believes wholeheartedly that she could never feel anything but joy ever again after this. She's never been good at caution when it comes to love, has never been careful with her heart; she’s only ever hurled it forward, tossed it out to sea, cracked it open like an oyster and hoped someone would find the pearl. And now, pressed against the man who has seen all of her and still said yes, now, held in arms that carry her like treasure and devotion and promise all tangled into one, she truly believes she will never have another bad day. How could she, when all of her days now contain him?

Her lips find his temple, her breath warm against his skin, and in a whisper so soft it trembles, she says, "Being married to you is everything I could have ever wanted." Her voice cracks on the last word, the happiness in it so enormous it staggers, but she doesn’t falter, she only holds on tighter, smiling into his skin, already planning to say it again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the next. And every day  that would follow.

Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness
'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

When enemies are at your door, I'll carry you way from war

There's nothing about this moment that he has to grab to hold onto, or trace to remember the outline of it. This is not something he needs to work to keep, afraid he'd lose some precious part of it to time. This, it has a grip on him. It threatens to overtake him with the force of how it settles inside, building itself into his core like the space between his bones has always been meant for her. The sounds of her laugh, the bright streaks of her smile, the bubbling rush of her breath tangled around this reckless, wild sense of completeness—it all fills him with an inescapable happiness that reorients gravity entirely into the palm of her hands.

Everywhere she touches, it glows. Each fingertip through his hair, every slip of her hand across his cheek, the halo of her legs around his waist. His body sings in response to her contact, tuned in every way to their song, nerves giggling with the same effervescent delight that keeps erupting from their chests every time they lock eyes or try to kiss too long. Her words feel like a physical force pushing into him, each sentence, whether one word or a winding declaration, managing to shove him off his stride like they've grown legs and wind around his feet, trying to trip him up with as much mastery as Spice.

He sways into the bedroom with all the grace of a storm sneaking through an open window, furiously ill-contained and pouring in with the intention of making a mess. The door smacks the wall as he teeters into it, uncaring when his focus is wholly upon the woman shining in his hands. "I had no idea that all this time I was missing pieces of me," he murmurs, soft and shaky around the hum of breath that hasn't managed to settle around the swell in his chest. There's a low, disbelieving laugh that huffs out as he nuzzles closer against her, breathing her in with a lofty sigh just before tipping them both onto the bed with a crash and sprawl of limbs.

"You had them all along," he reveals with a smirk tilting into one side of his cheek, lopsided and boyish beneath a flop of mussed hair. "I finally feel complete, ever since you started loving me. Like I was fine before, thought that was what living felt like, and then with you...it's all a million times better. You're like mageglass for my soul." He tilts into his hand, blue band shimmering against his wrist with the motion. "That sounded way cooler in my head," he groans. "It's true though, however silly it sounds," he admits after a pause, peeking between a spread of his fingers, unwilling to hide from her even when it's ridiculous, maybe especially not then.

Still tangled up with her, something he'd have no other way, he reaches out to brush a stray strand of gold back behind her ear. "I know I said I want to do an actual wedding with everyone later, but I gotta admit, I'm really glad it's just us right now, right here." His gaze drifts up to coast around the room, the place where it had all truly started, where forever and then some is now secured at last. Absently, his hand drifts down her arm, to her side, skimming scars and dips of muscle with an unhesitating familiarity.

Kaisel

If you need help, I'll shut down the city lights

flora

They crash into the bed with a bounce, legs and limbs flailing in a graceless tumble of laughter, and Flora squeals as her hip bumps the edge of the mattress and sends her sliding into Kaisel like a skipped stone caught by a wave. Her fingers scramble to keep herself close, palms catching fabric and ribs and anything else she can grab before she’s tucked herself right back into the crook of his shoulder, one leg wrapped around his hips, her laugh still spilling into the space between them like it doesn’t know how to stop. She’s flushed and breathless and so deliriously happy it feels like she might vibrate out of her skin, every nerve sparkling, every breath caught in that dizzy, helium-light giddiness that makes it hard to tell where the laughter ends and the love begins. Her whole body aches with it, like the sort of ache that comes from smiling too hard, from holding something precious so close that your heart doesn’t know how to contain it all.

When Kai begins talking about missing pieces and how she had them all along, Flora's face breaks open like the sunrise, her cheeks rounding with a grin so wide it feels like a miracle she doesn’t just burst. She doesn’t laugh because it’s funny, though it is, but because joy keeps trying to crawl out of her throat in every direction and she has to let some of it out before it turns to tears. "It still sounded cool," she says, the words wobbling through a plume of breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, and her voice has that telltale hitch of someone who is trying so hard not to cry from how good it all feels. Her hand catches his before he can hide behind it, engagement ring and glittering orange hair tie flashing like the joyful, chaotic promise it is as she brings his knuckles to her lips and presses a kiss against them. "I mean, mageglass for your soul? That’s, like, absurdly romantic."

But the truth is, she absolutely gets it. It isn’t that she didn’t know what love was before—she’s bled for it, clawed for it, torn herself apart trying to hold onto it, died for it—but back then it had always been something red. Something messy and raw, something that needed feeding or fighting or fixing. Like a flame that demanded everything and still wanted more. Like blood. Like heartbreak. Like pain worn as devotion. But this? This isn’t red. This is golden. This is sunlight caught in honey, warm and slow and glimmering at the edges. This is the afterglow of something sacred. This is the kind of love that doesn’t have to be won, it just is. And maybe Kaisel isn’t perfect, but he's never had to be; there's nothing he does or doesn’t do that makes this what it is. He just is, and gods that's more than enough. It's everything.

"I know what you mean," she says, shifting to hook one leg higher over his hips so she can pull herself closer still, until their bodies are tangled in every possible place and there’s not a scrap of distance between them. Her hands flatten against his chest, not to push but to anchor herself, to feel the thrum of his heartbeat under her palms and know that this is real, that he is hers. "We already promised each other everything we said today," she says softly, "but now that we’re married—" and gods, her voice cracks on it, her mouth twitching with renewed delight as she says it again, slower, richer, as if she can taste the sweetness of it like caramel on her tongue, "—being married to you....it just changes everything." Which in a way obviously it was, but it's also hard to see how a ring, a hairtie, and a few words from a goddess could change so much.

She beams as she says it, unable to stop the sparkle that flashes across her features like someone set off fireworks behind her eyes, her curls spilling wild around her shoulders as she wriggles impossibly closer, like maybe she can just fuse into him and never leave. "It feels like everything’s finally allowed to start properly. Like, I never needed the ring, or a god, or even a ceremony, but...somehow it makes everything feel new. Like the beginning of something, y'know?"

His fingers slip through her hair and her eyes flutter half-shut, breath catching as if that single touch could still undo her, and she lets herself lean into it with a laugh that’s as bashful as it is uncontainable. "I know it sounds stupid," she murmurs, as she gazes at him with her heart practically pouring out through her smile, "but I just want to be here for a while. Not even doing anything. Just...being married to you." The words are ridiculous, and she knows it, but of course she says it anyway. The joy is too big to keep in her mouth, and it keeps tripping out as laughter, tiny little breathy bursts as she traces the edge of his jaw with the backs of her fingers, combing a bit of tousled hair away from his forehead just for the excuse to touch him again. "I could spend all day just sitting here staring at you," she admits, unashamed, even proud of it, because gods know she’s spent hours doing far dumber things than memorizing the boy she loves. Her fingers trace the line of his cheek, her nose brushes his, and the golden thread of joy loops tighter, curls brighter, glows louder. Her world has tilted, and it’s not red anymore. It’s never been red with him. It’s golden, and endless, and despite the seasons they've spent together, it feels like it's only just begun.

Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness
'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

When enemies are at your door, I'll carry you way from war

He relinquishes his hand to her without hesitation, the shield of his fingers stolen to her lips and their reassurance. The petal-soft touch lingers around the bloom of her words, both thoroughly quelling the blush that races to overtake him. It's the sight of the orange band glittering against her wrist that really stills him, pulling taut everything that he's made of. The frozen moment doesn't last long before his breath gives with an audible unsealing and his smile breaks loose into something rampant and consuming. He shakes with a laugh at the moment—at himself for saying it, at her for embracing it, at them and this absurd feeling of repeatedly being swept away by adoration so immense that silly, ridiculous words like that ring with more meaning than he can rightfully hold.

For all the laughter and motion that brought them here, the way she settles against him now feels like the world easing into its proper shape. He reaches to grasp her leg as it hooks higher, palm sliding up and curling into place along her skin as he holds her closer still. Her hands flatten against his heartbeat, and gods, it's like it rises up to meet her there, pulse kicking in tireless marvel that they've built this. From burnt bridges and sheets draped over hulls, amid salt-stained laughter and moonlit kisses, they've created a sanctuary for each other.

The ache in her voice when she says married grows his smile, because ditto. The way it cracks only to brighten, like the splits have let through more of the shine instead of ruined it, resonates through him. Gods, he is nearly certain he's too mortal to possess something as tremendous as his love for her, but it seems the trick is to keep pouring it into her, even as he floats among the flood she delivers in return, each of them spilling and drowning in the most wonderful way.

He nods, hair fluffing up in erratic fashion as he brushes against her with the subtle motion, too close to do anything but repeatedly collide, and he'd have it no other way. "I do know," he asserts, nearly crosseyed in an effort to stay close but still find her eyes. "It's something more than words, or a feeling. It's something we did. It's you with me now, always." He abandons his perch on her leg to reach for her orange-banded hand, fingers curling in and pressing his blue one to it with a smile that's grown soft and boyish on the edges. "It's a reminder now, every time I see it, or feel it. Of this moment, of you, of everything that you are." It's a welcome weight, this tangible symbol of their devotion. The necklace that protects him, the bag she improved for him, the keychain that she made for him, and hundreds of other small things she does and gives and says, they all are testament to her love each and every day. This newest addition does not erase those things, but it connects them all, weaving them against his skin with the permanence of their forever.

His brows lift in expectation as she leads with I know it sounds stupid, only to then say the most genius thing. His expression wrinkles in, perplexed, and absolutely playing it up with a brief stint of confused composure before happiness rushes in again and forces out a smile. "That is the least stupid thing I've ever heard. I would love to do nothing more than lie here and be married to you. In fact, I think you're in luck, I think we're already doing it." His eyes flutter shut for a moment, content to slip under the feel of her hands for a time as they drift over breath and joy.

"You know," he starts after a minute, one eye peeking open back at her, fingers flexing tighter around her hand. "It's kinda crazy how, out of everyone that exists, and all the space between the regions, we still found each other. Everything had to go right, even when it seemed like it went bad, in order for us to be right here, now." He has never really believed in soul mates, or fate, but in such a wide and complex world, where so many never get to experience even half of this, he's aware of just how lucky they are. "The hot honey to my ketchup," he grins, "in the crazy condiment shelf of life."

Kaisel

If you need help, I'll shut down the city lights

flora

She giggles, helplessly, as the fluff of his hair brushes her forehead, each twitch of his laughter sending little puffs of warmth against her skin like dandelion seeds on a breeze, weightless and soft and too much all at once. Her fingers twist with his as if trying to anchor something, anything, even as her heart flutters like a caught bird, wings skimming ribs, and when she looks down and sees it—her ring pressed to the place where his will be, orange and blue grazing like a promise they've just made but already live by—she forgets how to breathe entirely. The world pulls in tight around the little patch of skin where their wrists touch, where the colours kiss, where they’ve left themselves visible on each other like sunprint shadows, and gods, it makes her stomach flip inside out in the most unreasonable way. Like falling. Like flying. Like she’ll never quite hit the ground again.

"You know what I just realized?" she breathes, the words drifting out like petals. "That one day, we’re gonna look back at this exact moment," she says, squeezing his hand so he knows she means now, with their legs tangled and hair messy and her whole soul curled around the sound of his heartbeat, "and say ohhh, we were so young, and we’ll reminiscece about all the things we've done since and how many wrinkles we have." Her throat tightens suddenly, not with sadness but with wonder, her lashes fluttering as she swallows it down, the moment crystallising even as it breathes beneath her. "But it’ll always be this moment," she whispers, her eyes darting over his face like she’s trying to memorise the angles of it—not just how he looks, but how he feels, how this feels—"this exact heartbeat, this exact breath, that changed everything. And I'm never going to forget it." Her smile flickers with something caught between awe and disbelief, as if the weight of knowing a memory while it’s still unfolding might shatter her if she holds it too tightly.

As he closes one eye—that sleepy, boyish squint that makes her chest ache—she reaches up to gently run her finger beneath his lashes, slow and featherlight, as though she could commit them to memory by touch alone. He peeks at her and she freezes mid-motion, caught, wide-eyed, like a girl who'd been caught in the act of scribbling a boy's last name next to hers. The reverence of it all blooms too brightly in her chest and she lets her hand slip quietly back to his heart, tucking herself into the safety of his warmth with a breath that’s just shy of shaky.

"I was thinking that too," she says, quieter now, as if something fragile has crept into the space between them. Her thumb traces idle circles over the beat beneath her palm. "How wild it is. That out of everyone in the world, and all the places we could have ended up, we still found each other." Her voice hums with disbelief and softness, with the kind of love that has teeth and history and still somehow feels too miraculous to name. Her eyes don’t stay in one place, they skip and bounce across his face like stones over water, catching on the corner of his mouth, the line of his cheek, the lashes she just touched, the impossible tenderness she feels for all of it. "That first night," she murmurs, almost bashfully, "I said I wanted you like you loved me." The memory tastes sweet on her tongue, especially now. "And you said you didn’t know another way."

Her voice falters for a moment, not because she doubts it, but because she doesn’t. Because she still feels it, all of it, every bit of the way he looked at her like she was something he’d been aching to love his whole life. She bites at the inside of her lip, a flush creeping along her cheeks, and leans in to brush her nose against his—not quite a kiss, not quite not—her breath feathering against his. "I believed you then," she says, laughing softly, a private, glowing thing. "Even before you shouted it in the marketplace."

There had been lows, gods had there been lows. Shouting and silence and too many maybes. Times they’d hurt each other, or just missed each other completely, like ships passing in opposite storms. And yet. And yet. "I wouldn’t change any of it," she whispers, her voice fierce with conviction now, her arms tightening slightly around him. "Because it’s all part of our story."

Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness
'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

When enemies are at your door, I'll carry you way from war

"What?" he nearly whispers, the answer immediate, curiosity tangled around the quiet wonder of existing with her, one dust mote in the world beside another, helplessly in love with each other. As she explains, his whole body seems to rise to meet the idea, joy spreading through him in a fresh, buoyant way. Not the dazzling rush from before, but something steadier, something that knows how to last. The thought of this becoming a small tally mark among countless others fills him with a happiness so calm it feels sacred.

“I’m so glad you’ve decided to grow old with me then,” he hums, the tease threaded gently through something sincere, eyes bright as they search hers. “Since last time you said you were here for a good time, not a long time.” His fingers flex against hers, trading touch with as much effortless necessity as blinking and breathing. “I’m rather hoping we can have both.” A quiet laugh huffs out between them, warm and unguarded, but beneath it he knows exactly what she means. He can already picture some distant version of them, softer around the edges, tracing the shape of this memory like it’s a well-worn stone kept in a pocket. One of many, he's certain.

The moment he catches her and she freezes, he does too. It's a standoff, just for a moment, but as she folds further into him, he rises higher. Propping himself up on one arm, he follows, chasing her with a grin and the promise of a kiss pressed to the curve of her neck. She sinks into him, and he curls around her without hesitation, a living knot of limbs and laughter and warmth, as if this is what tying the knot was always meant to look like. "Mm, I remember," he says with the distant fondness of recollecting something welcome. He's been blissfully thumbing through each one of their best moments, and that night, the kissening, is one he loves to wander down. He'll never forget that feeling of tipping over into her at long last after so much restraint, the press of her lips a welcome he could no longer pretend to resist, no matter how anxious or scared or cautious he'd been.

His smile deepens as hers flickers, eyes crinkling at the edges as the press of it demands more room. “I still don’t,” he admits, “know another way.” He can't believe he ever thought he could. Trying to ignore the true depth of his feelings for her, especially after letting them run wild that night, is surely the most foolish thing he's done, and that's saying something. His hand rises to her cheek, thumb skimming there with unthinking tenderness as their noses brush, holding her steady and sure against him.

After a moment, he pulls back just enough to see her fully, the reluctance in the movement softened by the way his touch finds a new anchor along her arm. “We need to think about the next part of our story,” he murmurs, voice low and warm. “A secret honeymoon. Somewhere fantastic.” A smile curves, boyish and bright with possibility. “Then we can lie around and be married there too,” he adds softly, as if that’s the most natural continuation in the world. Not leaving this moment behind, but carrying it forward, letting it spill into new places, new days, new memories waiting patiently to be lived.

Kaisel

If you need help, I'll shut down the city lights

flora

At his teasing reminder, her mouth parts in a smile, but something raw and glittering slips underneath it, something older than the joke and deeper than the laugh that threatens to bubble up. "Yeah, well," she murmurs, her voice unsteady not with fear but with the weight of what she means to say, "given my dads can literally yank people out of death like a magician with a scarf, I’m not really planning to let something like death end our story for a long time." Her lashes dip low, but her tone is calm, matter-of-fact, a little crooked with hope, but it’s obvious she means it, as if somewhere inside her is a tiny, determined flame that will not go out again, not even if death finds her first. Then, nudging him gently with her knee, affection blooming like a tide over stone, teasing and warm and watercoloured with ache, she says, "same goes for you, by the way. If anything so much as thinks about dragging you away from me, you’d better play the get-out-of-death-free son-in-law card without hesitation." Her grin flashes brighter as she says it, but her voice wobbles faintly at the edges, betraying how much it costs her to joke about it, how deep the fear swims beneath the surface; not of dying, but of not having this. Of losing him, of waking up one day without the shape of his laugh tangled up in her ribs, without his hands folded into hers like they were made to fit.

Then his lips brush her neck and something new bursts inside her; laughter first, the delighted kind that hiccups out too suddenly, too brightly, because god, he’s always known how to unravel her like ribbon. Her hand flies to his hair like it belongs there, fingers twining instinctively in the mess of it, tipping her head back to give him better access even as she flushes with giddy, glowing warmth. "You are such a menace," she breathes through the grin that’s already cracking wide across her face, but her whole body arches into his like a blossom reaching for the sun, helpless and golden and so happy she might just dissolve. As he lifts slightly above her, the shift of his weight drawing her back into the memory of that first night when just for a little while the world had bent around them like a secret finally spoken aloud, and she lets herself drown in it. It hits her all over again, the dizzying impossibility of having this, of still being here, of waking in that same bed now with his heart pressed to her cheek like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He gazes down and she meets him without hesitation, breath caught between the press of their noses, lips parted in anticipation, and then she tips up, slow and featherlight, and lets her mouth brush against his like a sigh, like starlight, like for forever and then some.

When he mentions a secret honeymoon, her lips twitch with delight even as she bites down on the edge of her grin, eyes sparkling with mischief and wonder. "OOooh, yes," she says, voice hushed like they’re already conspiring. "We could go to the House of Midnight. Every day we could make ourselves a new room. Like, wake up in a tropical jungle one day, a snow-covered mountain lodge the next, a glass palace with floating furniture, I don’t know, whatever we come up with." Her laughter curls like smoke between them, breathless and full of delight. "And we could get room service for every single meal and just lay around staring at one another and being disgustingly in love."

She snorts softly against his cheek before adding, with a conspiratorial shrug, "Or we could just go a little ways down the mountain range, to that spot with the upside-down waterfall. No one will come to bother us, and we’ll pack snacks. Filly the Sugartide with stupidly fancy food and enough pastries to last a week."

Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness
'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!