i'd wipe the dirt off your name with the shirt off my back
Flora lets out a shuddering breath, her body melting into Jack’s as his arms tighten around her. He loves her. The words replay in her mind, brushing like feathers against the bruised places her mother had left behind, and it has her lungs releasing enough for her to take a full breath. "I'm afraid to try and sleep," she admits softly, her voice catching on the admission. "Every time I close my eyes, it’s like... it’s all still happening." She doesn’t elaborate—she doesn’t need to. Jack knows. He’s seen her mind, the wreckage left behind.
So instead, she tries to fill the silence with something lighter, something that doesn’t make her chest ache. "Did I ever tell you about the time Enzo and I tried to build a raft?" She asks, her voice sad but tinged with a faint smile. "It was right after we moved here. We thought we could sail it all the way to the Maw. We spent days stealing scraps of wood and rope from the docks, sneaking them out into the shallows like we were on some secret mission." Given who and what Flora was to Torchline now, it was laughable to imagine her skulking around and hoarding bits of rope, but at the time, coming home with a long length of rope or a few nails which weren't too rusty, had felt like a goldmine.
Her fingers trace absent circles against Jack’s chest as she talks, the rhythm soothing even if her mind is anything but soothed. "Of course, it fell apart the second we tried to climb on, and we ended up soaked and covered in seaweed. But.." Her voice trails off, her smile fading as the weight of everything presses in again. Flora closes her eyes against the tears threatening to spill over, her fingers clutching around Jack as if he might somehow anchor her against the tide of grief and memories. "I don't know what to do, Jack," she murmurs, her voice breaking. "I don't even know where to start." Sleep yes, but then what?
So instead, she tries to fill the silence with something lighter, something that doesn’t make her chest ache. "Did I ever tell you about the time Enzo and I tried to build a raft?" She asks, her voice sad but tinged with a faint smile. "It was right after we moved here. We thought we could sail it all the way to the Maw. We spent days stealing scraps of wood and rope from the docks, sneaking them out into the shallows like we were on some secret mission." Given who and what Flora was to Torchline now, it was laughable to imagine her skulking around and hoarding bits of rope, but at the time, coming home with a long length of rope or a few nails which weren't too rusty, had felt like a goldmine.
Her fingers trace absent circles against Jack’s chest as she talks, the rhythm soothing even if her mind is anything but soothed. "Of course, it fell apart the second we tried to climb on, and we ended up soaked and covered in seaweed. But.." Her voice trails off, her smile fading as the weight of everything presses in again. Flora closes her eyes against the tears threatening to spill over, her fingers clutching around Jack as if he might somehow anchor her against the tide of grief and memories. "I don't know what to do, Jack," she murmurs, her voice breaking. "I don't even know where to start." Sleep yes, but then what?
