you wouldn't be the first renegade to need somebody
Flora’s breath catches in her throat as Jack emerges, and for a heartbeat, all her swirling thoughts freeze in place. Anxiety and relief crash into each other in waves, flooding the carefully tended gardens of her mind with a dizzying surge. She holds perfectly still, eyes riveted on his face in the fleeting glow of the match—taking in the cold cut of his gaze, the blood speckling his skin, the easy confidence of his movements. That he's safe is a relief; that he's fine, seemingly unbothered, sends a bright spike of fury slicing through the tangled greenery of her thoughts, sharp and thorned.
She barely breathes as Bassian strolls past, and only once Jack is truly alone does she ease from the shadows. Her fingers curl slowly around the hilt of her dagger, twirling it once—a restless, silent whirl—before his voice drifts towards her.
Her lips twist into a sharp smirk, dangerous and entirely unseen. "Oh, you want it?" she murmurs under her breath, before her arm snaps forward and the blade slices cleanly through the darkness, landing with a firm thunk in the wooden planks right between Jack's boots.
A heartbeat later she twists her ring, reappearing as the invisibility slips away like water off her skin, one brow arched sharply, aqua eyes flashing as she levels him with a stare. "Y'know, I could've sworn we just had a fight about the whole 'not fucking off when we're mad' thing? You remember that?"
Stepping closer, Flora pulls a folded slip of paper from her pocket, holding it up between them. She unfolds it, thrusting it toward him, forcing him to look at his own scrawled handwriting. "'Flora, I love you, Jack,' she quotes, her voice sharp at the edges, pain and anger layered like tangled sea-grass beneath a deceptively smooth surface. "Remember this? Because, you know, ignoring me for almost two weeks kinda gives off mixed signals."
She barely breathes as Bassian strolls past, and only once Jack is truly alone does she ease from the shadows. Her fingers curl slowly around the hilt of her dagger, twirling it once—a restless, silent whirl—before his voice drifts towards her.
Her lips twist into a sharp smirk, dangerous and entirely unseen. "Oh, you want it?" she murmurs under her breath, before her arm snaps forward and the blade slices cleanly through the darkness, landing with a firm thunk in the wooden planks right between Jack's boots.
A heartbeat later she twists her ring, reappearing as the invisibility slips away like water off her skin, one brow arched sharply, aqua eyes flashing as she levels him with a stare. "Y'know, I could've sworn we just had a fight about the whole 'not fucking off when we're mad' thing? You remember that?"
Stepping closer, Flora pulls a folded slip of paper from her pocket, holding it up between them. She unfolds it, thrusting it toward him, forcing him to look at his own scrawled handwriting. "'Flora, I love you, Jack,' she quotes, her voice sharp at the edges, pain and anger layered like tangled sea-grass beneath a deceptively smooth surface. "Remember this? Because, you know, ignoring me for almost two weeks kinda gives off mixed signals."
