[SE] heavy rain from my cloudy eyes

Thalassa

Swatting away a damp branch, water droplets fall onto her head, earning a glare as she tucks a few strands behind her horn. Frustratingly, the blonde in her hair has decided to stay. Apparently, bleach isn't just something that 'washes out' despite the flurries of rain that have begun to fall with the change of the season. She'd hoped the screaming might have scared it away, but it would appear that she's stuck with the color until it grows out. 

In between rainstorms, Thal seeks out the Mathair to check on the fire marks from the previous season. She'd done what she could to contain the flames, but the smell of wet charcoal still permeates the air, the ground black where the foliage has been burned away. Leaves dapple the dark patch, various colors having fallen from the trees above like paint drops on a black canvas. Crouching next to the damage, she presses a hand against the burnt trunk and looks for signs of regrowth.

I'm in love with my future.
Can't wait to meet her.

you don't know that you're living 'til you're carrying scars

Rain freckles the shoulders of Flora’s green rain jacket as she moves between the hanging veils of leaves without looking at them directly, her steps instinctive in the way of someone who grew up learning which roots will hold and which will coil if you give them an excuse. The Mathair rises ahead of her, vast and breathing in that slow, timbered way that isn’t quite wind and isn’t quite stillness either, and even now she feels the old, familiar hum beneath her ribs, the memory of the void burned out and life coaxed back with stubborn hands and saltwater prayers miraculously answered.

She’s close enough to smell the wet charcoal when she notices the figure crouched at the trunk, fingers pressed flat against bark that still carries the faint scar of flame. "Careful!" Flora calls out, her voice bright enough to cut clean through the rain without sharpness. "She can be touchy about being, well, touched."

There’s a soft, amused breath under it as she steps closer, boots sinking slightly into the damp earth, gold rings glinting when she lifts a hand in loose greeting rather than reprimand. She doesn’t recognize the woman—doesn’t connect the pale spill of blonde with anyone she knows—but that hardly matters. Anyone who lays a palm against the Mathair like that earns at least a gentle heads-up.

you're either falling in love or you're falling apart

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Thalassa

The warning has her head snapping towards it, hand ripping from the trunk as if it'd been the one burnt. She's more surprised by who she sees rather than the advice that she didn't ask for. Eyes widening, she stands slowly, tail flicking idly behind her. 

"Flora." A small, awkward smile takes form on her lips. "It's been a while." So long she's not sure the woman even remembers her. Thal might have been at Flora's house for Danta's birthday, but they hadn't spoken, and she certainly hadn't been blonde then. 

Tucking her hands into her pockets, she tilts her head, wondering what to even say after so long before settling on "I was sorry to hear about the Hanged Man." There's a mixture of emotions in her eyes - pity, regret, uncertainty - all contradicting the confident strength in her stance and the uninterested flicker of her gaze, as if she could disguise her embarrassment over having been caught infected by the woman a year ago after being trusted to join the guild.

I'm in love with my future.
Can't wait to meet her.

you don't know that you're living 'til you're carrying scars

Flora’s surprise doesn’t land in her shoulders so much as in her eyes, the bright aqua widening before recognition threads its way in and softens everything at once. "Hey Thalassa," she says through a smile, warmth settling into her tone as she steps a fraction closer.

Her gaze lifts, deliberate and unabashed, to the spill of bleached blonde against horn and rain-darkened skin, and she lets out a quiet, delighted hum as if she’s assessing a daring new paint colour rather than a person. Her own curls, gold but deeper and richer than that pale wash, are tucked back beneath the hood of her jacket, a few damp strands escaping to cling to her temples. "I like the blonde," she says with a grin, tilting her head. "Really makes your eyes pop."

The mention of the Hanged Man draws a small wrinkle across her nose, and she shrugs as if shedding a damp cloak rather than an entire building’s worth of history. Once, she’d claimed the fire as her own to deny the Marin's their spectacle, but that version of events feels exhausting now, too many moving pieces for a lie she no longer needs. "Me too," she says, shaking her head slightly. "The Marins burned it down over some relationship drama." Her fingers splay outward in a theatrical spread, rings flashing pale in the filtered light as rain taps softly against her jacket sleeves.

"I’ve got plans to rebuild it,' she adds, a laugh slipping through, bright but edged with the kind of fatigue that comes from rebuilding more than once. "But I swear to the gods there’s always something new to do instead. But anyway," she says, smile returning in full, "how’ve you been?"

you're either falling in love or you're falling apart

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Thalassa

Any worry she'd had of judgement or stiffness quickly melts in Flora's friendly gaze. A tightness releases from her chest, the tension around her spine relaxing to make her next breath easier, turning quickly to a huff laughter at mention of her hair. She lifts a damp strand as if to inspect it before dropping it back down to her shoulder with a small smirk. "Thanks. It's better than being bald." Leaving it intentionally vague, she lifts her eyes back to Flora, a glint of mischievous curiosity as to whether she'll be asked to elaborate. 

The new information on the Hanged Man's demise has Thal raising an eyebrow, amusement curling around the crooked curve of her lips. A soft scoff escapes as she says, "Really? Why doesn't that surprise me?" More on the Marin's part than Flora's, but Caido never seems to be void of 'relationship drama.' But she's glad to hear it could make a comeback, genuine warmth entering the smile and soft current of her tone. "Good. I could use a new drinking spot." She'll never tire of the Dusklight, but none of the places in Torchline have ever held a light to the Hanged Man. 

She shrugs her shoulders when the attention turns back on her. A flash of fangs peek through the sharper edge of her smile, undirected violence flashing like steel in her gaze. "Better, now that those bastards are gone."

Not really wanting to linger on that, Thal gestures her head towards Flora, quick to ask, "You? What brings you out here?"

I'm in love with my future.
Can't wait to meet her.

you don't know that you're living 'til you're carrying scars

Flora’s brows lift the moment Thalassa offers baldness as the alternative, the expression lingering just long enough to make it clear she has absolutely no idea what story sits behind that comment, though the crooked grin that follows suggests she’s perfectly content to leave the mystery intact for now. "Oh, I dunno," she says easily, tilting her head as her gaze flicks once toward her horns before returning to Thal’s face. "With those, you could probably pull off bald. Very dramatic. Very intimidating." The laugh that follows is quiet but genuine, warm enough to take any sting from the image before it can settle, and she rolls her eyes lightly at the mention of needing a new drinking spot, a familiar exhale slipping out of her.

"As soon as it’s up again, I’ll send you an invite to the grand opening," she promises, nodding once as if the decision has already been filed neatly into place among the hundred other things that require rebuilding.

The sharper flash in Thal’s expression when she mentions them being gone, earns an answering nod from Flora, a soft breath leaving her chest in agreement rather than commentary. She’d heard the pieces of that story through Asta, enough to understand the edge of relief threaded through the words now, and she doesn’t push it further than that. "Hard same," she says simply, the words carrying the quiet weight of someone who has spent the last year watching the same darkness ripple through too many lives.

When the question turns back on her, Flora tips her head toward the towering trunk beside them, stepping closer until the Mathair fills the corner of her vision with a familiar, towering presence. "I grew up here," she says, the words settling easily into the damp air. "So every Leafchange I like to come back and pay my respects." Her gaze lifts along the vast trunk, following the old scars of smoke and char where the fire once licked up through the bark, and her mouth tilts slightly as memory settles over the moment.

"The last time I saw her, she was infected too," she adds, shaking her head softly. "It took channelling Rae to cleanse her in order to get it out." Her eyes drift across the lingering smudge of ash darkening the bark before she gives a small, pragmatic shrug, the gesture half acceptance and half admiration for the stubborn resilience of old things. "But," she says, tipping her chin toward the tree again, "she looks like she’s doing alright, all things considered."

you're either falling in love or you're falling apart

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Thalassa

Flora's casual tease gives her the confidence to believe she could actually make the bald look work if she wanted to, the idea makes her laugh, the sound crackling like the warning signs of trouble, a spark of flames beneath the humor. "I'll take that into consideration for next time." Said with all the certainty of someone planning to dye their skin blue. 

As for the impending invitation to the bar's grand opening, there's a note of sincerity in her voice, excitement sparking across her eyes. "Look forward to it." Although if it was anything like Danta's birthday party, she'd be sure to find an outlet for her sexual frustrations before daring to attend. 

Nodding her head at the firm agreement and the unnecessary need to say more, Thal follows Flora's gaze, taking in the massive presence that is that Mathair. She hadn't known the Queen grew up in the Greatwood. She'd suspected Flora had always lived in Torchline. Her tan skin, blonde hair, and overall fluid nature seems so in tune with the sunshine and lapping waves that she can't imagine the woman existing in the shadowed mystery of the forest - that the trees could contain such a vibrant personality. 

It shifts her view, expanding her perspective of Flora as she takes in the towering branches and various war-like scars of the tree goddess, feeling that both are kindred spirits. One is someone who no longer fits the pace she came from, both standing strong and unwavering despite how the world around them has tried to cut them down. Her tail flicks, the only sign of her concern for the persevering plant before the verdict falls. 

'Alright.' Thal will take 'alright' over the alternative: her failure. 

She takes a deep breath, resisting the urge to run her hand over the scorch marks by rocking back on her heels. "Good. There was a giant fire here last season and I wasn't sure how bad it was through all the smoke." It had looked bad - felt bad - and she has to admire the Mathair's resiliency in spite of it. 

Looking back to Flora, Thal doesn't hide her interest as she asks, "How do you usually pay your respects?"

I'm in love with my future.
Can't wait to meet her.

you don't know that you're living 'til you're carrying scars

Flora’s snicker slips out before she can stop it, bright and approving, and she tips her brows up and down in a quick, conspiratorial bounce at Thal’s enthusiasm for the grand opening. "I’ll make sure it’s worth the wait," she promises with an easy grin, the tone suggesting she already has a dozen half-chaotic ideas for how the night might unfold.

Her attention drifts briefly back toward the towering trunk as Thal mentions the fire, and she hums softly through her nose before glancing sideways again, the smile that follows edged with a kind of amused certainty. "It’d take a lot more than a tantrum from Tanau to burn her down," she says lightly, nodding toward the Mathair as if the goddess might overhear and appreciate the vote of confidence. Then her lips twist, mischief gathering there as she studies Thal for a moment, the expression sharpening into something conspiratorial.

"You know," Flora adds, voice dipping into a thoughtful lilt that isn’t quite innocent, "I bet you’d really like her if you ever got to meet her." Her gaze flicks upward along the warped, ancient trunk, following the twisted branches into the grey sky before she shrugs one shoulder. "She’s definitely no-nonsense. Very...primal." The word rolls off her tongue with a pleased sort of emphasis. "Before the last war she ate one of the demigods to get a bit more power to keep herself safe." The satisfaction in her smile makes it clear Flora finds that entire story deeply reasonable, if not outright admirable.

When Thal asks how she pays her respects, Flora’s hands disappear briefly into the pockets of her rain jacket, producing first a small bottle of water and then a folded packet of seeds. The bottle catches a faint glimmer of light when she lifts it, and she gives it a small shake. "Healing fountain water," she explains easily, as if that part requires no further elaboration. The packet receives a far more delighted grin when she holds it up between two fingers. "And these," she adds, voice brightening, "grow into super poisonous mushrooms that look really pretty."

Her shoulders lift in an easy shrug as she glances back at Thal. "My brother got them for me. I figured the Mathair would approve." She gestures loosely toward the base of the immense trunk, the damp soil already soft from the rain. "Want to help me plant them around her roots?"

you're either falling in love or you're falling apart

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Thalassa

Although perpetually impatient, Flora's assurance along with the conniving little snicker have Thal expecting the wait will be half the fun. She's heard of few other people who hold a candle to the Queen's party-throwing skills. There's no doubt that this one will be just as memorable, and the Ancient lets her grin sharpen, as much a challenge as it is trust in the woman's capabilities. 

Her gaze lingers as Flora talks, then flickers back to the tree, noticing how the scorch marks are nothing more than shallow coloring along the bark. They never made it far enough to do any real damage. Thal chuckles, impressed again by the quiet strength of the Mathair. "I see that." But when the tone of the conversation to dark mischief, her tail slows, curiosity drawing her gaze with the spark of shifting currents in her eyes. They land on Flora, a dangerous smirk curling with intrigued delight. "Maybe. I don't have a good track record with sentient trees, but she does sound like my kind of goddess." Dygra might still hold the throne, but a tree with chaos and blood running through its scarred roots might as well be her sister - and eating a demigod for power is badass. 

Relating far more to the tree now, she makes note of Flora's various offerings. A single dark eyebrow raises into the blonde, fangs flashing in approval. "I like your style." Who knew the Queen of Torchline would be walking around with poisonous mushroom seeds in her pockets?

As if that's confirmation enough, she removes a hand from her own pocket to receive the seeds, then moves to scuff her boot into the wet soil along the roots. "Why does your brother have these?" she asks innocently. When the hole is deep enough, Thal drops a single kernel into the earth then scrapes the soft leather of her boot across the ground, burying it beneath so she can move onto the next spot.

I'm in love with my future.
Can't wait to meet her.

you don't know that you're living 'til you're carrying scars

Flora’s grin widens at that, a flash of easy amusement brightening her expression as she tips her head toward the Mathair. "She isn’t a tree," she says lightly, lifting one shoulder in a loose shrug. "She just stays in one when it suits her." Still smiling, she flicks her gaze back to Thal. "Trust me, if you ever see her in the flesh, you’ll know who she is right away," the queen adds, voice warm with quiet confidence.

A fallen branch catches her eye near the roots, and Flora stoops to grab it, turning it once in her hand before using the end to prod into the rain-softened soil along the Mathair’s sprawling roots. The ground yields easily under the pressure, dark earth folding aside in damp clumps as she works a shallow pocket into place. At the question about the seeds she lets out a soft chuckle, glancing over her shoulder toward Thal as she flicks another scoop of dirt aside. "My brother’s a botanist," she explains, the pride in her tone unhidden. "Mateo’s always gravitated toward the deadly ones."

She drops a few of the small seeds into the hole, brushing a bit of soil over them with the stick before continuing, the affection in her voice turning the words almost fond. "He also grows the best dreamdust and third eye in all of Caido, if you ask me." Flora nudges the dirt closed with the toe of her boot, then unscrews the cap on the small bottle and tips a careful stream of fountain water over the spot, the clear liquid vanishing quickly into the thirsty soil.

Once she’s satisfied the seeds have had their drink, she holds the bottle out toward Thal with an easy tilt of her wrist, rain ticking softly against the fabric of her jacket.

you're either falling in love or you're falling apart

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Thalassa

Not well versed in any of the deities beside Dygra, the information Flora shares is quite enlightening. She has no reason to distrust the information, but her eyes widen then narrow to consider the scarred trunk and towering branches. "So we're not looking at the Mathair, but her house?" Perhaps 'vessel' would be the better term, but it sounds strange regardless. She'd just assumed any physical appearances of the Mathair were that of the tree deity's spirit rather than the goddess bothering to show her true form - not that she cares about any of that anyways. 

Her focus is on the dirt as she plants the seeds, noticing the divots made by large raindrops falling from branches high above. A few seep through her hair into her scalp, but Thal ignores them as she nudges her boot through the moist soil, ears trained on Flora's voice. A sharp grin forms at the mention of deadly plants, her eyes flicking playfully to the Queen. "Those are the only kind I like." Then she surprises her by mentioning dreamdust and third eye with a tone that suggests her brother isn't the only one familiar with them. Throwing daggers and running a Thieves' Guild was one thing, but recreational drug use is a lot more reckless than she would have expected and Thal chuckles, pausing in her planting to adjust her view of the woman. Her eyes scan Flora in a new light, grin approvingly mischievous as she accepts the water. "You're more fun than you look. You need some horns for better advertisement." Winking, she pours the water over the seeds she's hidden.

I'm in love with my future.
Can't wait to meet her.

you don't know that you're living 'til you're carrying scars

Flora considers the tree again when Thal phrases it that way, her mouth tilting thoughtfully as she follows the line of bark and branch upward before letting out a small, approving hum. "Yeah," she says with an easy nod, rain catching on the loose curls escaping her hood. "That’s actually a way better way of putting it."

Her attention drifts back toward Thal, the grin that follows bright and quick, brows bouncing in quiet agreement. "You’d probably like Mateo too," she adds, warmth threading easily through her voice at the mention of her brother. The words pause there for a moment as she wrinkles her nose, trying to land on a description that actually captures him rather than something overly tidy. "He’s...very unpretentious," she decides after a beat, the smile returning as she pushes the stick into the soil again to carve another shallow hollow near the roots. "Like, dangerously competent with plants that could absolutely kill you, but he’d still hand you tea and ask how your day’s going."

She drops a few more seeds into the dark pocket of earth, brushing soil over them before straightening slightly as Thal takes the bottle. The comment about horns earns a quiet snicker from her, shoulders lifting in a loose shrug as she shakes her head. "You know, Danta’s been trying to convince me to go the horn route too." The amusement lingers in the corner of her mouth, but curiosity edges in as she glances sideways again, studying the easy way Thal moves, the tail, the horns, the sharp confidence of it all. "Have you always been an Ancient?" she asks, the question open rather than probing, her tone casual as she nudges another bit of earth over the seeds with the toe of her boot while rain taps softly against the Mathair’s massive trunk above them. While she isn't actively thinking of becoming an ancient, she's also not not thinking about it, either.

you're either falling in love or you're falling apart

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Thalassa

Feeling like she might understand the Mathair a little better, Thal begins to wonder instead about this 'Mateo' fellow, her eyebrow quirking doubtfully at the provided description. 'Unpretentious' isn't usually the type she likes to hang out with; although some might argue that Asta falls into that category, she gravitates towards those who can make threats - and back them up. She doesn't have the patience for tea or small talk unless it has the possibility of ending in blood, which a proclivity for dangerous plants might not exclude. 

Her grin sharpens when she straightens to tuck her damp hair behind a horn. "Wow. He'd be one hell of an assassin." If he isn't one already, her eyes seem to add. Friendly and unassuming with a hobby that could kill people? Sounds like the perfect combination to her. She wouldn't expect Flora to admit to such a thing, but she might be more interested in meeting Mateo if she did. 

Thal lets the water sink into the soil where her boots had scuffed over the seeds, grinning to hear that Danta's been busy doing the Lord's Dygra's work. "I'm surprised it hasn't worked yet. He's pretty persuasive." With how much she's been learning of Flora, it's no surprise that others think she'd make a good Ancient. Especially with how chaos seems to find the Queen on the daily, Thal could easily see her rocking a pair of horns. 

Muscles tense when the focus moves to her, the easy casualness of the moment filling with her quiet consideration. She regards Flora once, sweeping her foot over another seed she's dropped into the soil. 

Whatever she sees is enough to draw out the truth as she worked. "No. I wasn't born an Ancient." There's only a breath of a pause - a flick of her tail - before she continues, "Apparently, I grew up in the Underwater City until I decided legs were a better feature on me." Plus the horns, fangs, and a very different kind of tail. She says it all with a light humor, a smile like a sparkle atop the water's surface, but there are darker shadows beneath and the calm tide shudders, threatening to shift with the wrong breeze.

I'm in love with my future.
Can't wait to meet her.

you don't know that you're living 'til you're carrying scars

Flora’s grin answers that immediately, her brows lifting in a quick, conspiratorial bounce that suggests Thal isn’t entirely off the mark, even if she doesn’t say it outright. "Oh, I’m sure he’d be very good at it," she says lightly, the fondess in her voice perhaps more well suited to sisterly pride rather than deadly sibling pursuits. But then again, why not both?

At the mention of Danta, she snickers under her breath, the sound warm and unguarded as she nudges another patch of soil into place with the toe of her boot. "He has made a pretty good case," she admits, glancing sidelong at Thal with a crooked smile before her shoulders lift in an easy shrug. "He and Asta both, but...I’d never do anything that’d make me lose Spice." As if summoned by name, a pale shape shifts above them, and a bright trill cuts through the damp hush of the Mathair’s canopy.

The rhythm of their planting continues, hands and boots working the softened earth, and when Thal answers her question Flora stills just enough to meet her gaze across the roots, brows lifting as that single word lands with more weight than the rest. "Apparently?" she echoes, head tilting slightly, the small smile at her lips edged with genuine curiosity rather than pressure, as if she’s offering the space rather than taking it despite the fact that she suddenly feels on the edge of her seat owing to that one little word.

you're either falling in love or you're falling apart

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3