marked me like a bloodstain
Flora leans into the arm that wraps around her, the gesture unspooling something tightly wound inside her chest. She doesn’t say anything right away—doesn’t have to, not when the silence is warm instead of expectant. Her head tips slightly toward Sunjata’s shoulder, eyes still fixed on the fire, but softer now. Less glassy.
At the mention of Kamaria, her breath catches slightly, because that story—the real version, not the one filtered through gossip—had always felt like something too big to ask about. She hadn’t known that her mother had walked away for so long, that Nate had left too. The weight of it lands somewhere deep in her ribs, heavy with unspoken understanding. "That’s the worst part," she murmurs at last, voice quiet and careful as if afraid saying it louder might shatter something. "You do it for them. You think... if I just handle this, if I make it safer, they’ll be proud of me. They’ll feel safe. They’ll understand." Her fingers wrap around the warm mug of cider, letting it burn gently into her palms. "And then it blows up and everyone’s just... gone. Or hurt. Or both."
She turns the cup slowly in her hands, catching the faint swirl of steam. "Jack said I made Torchline into a prison. That he didn’t feel safe around me anymore. But I thought—I really thought I was making it safer. That giving up a little of myself was better than letting the Family take everything. And yeah, maybe it was dumb. But I had a plan. I had backup. I wasn’t just being reckless." And, with Jack being what he was, Flora had honestly thought he'd see that.
Lifting her eyes to him, Flora frowns faintly, struggling to hold the contradictions together inside her. "And I knew it might still go wrong. I guess I just thought... if it did, I’d be the only one who paid the price." Her voice wavers on that last part, turning inward, because that's where things really could have gone so horribly wrong. But then, that's what the revivify feather was for, wasn't it? What Ronin and Remi's abilities were for? "I didn’t think he’d leave."
There’s a beat, her throat tightening, before she sniffs and takes a small sip of her drink. Then, with a breath that’s equal parts bitter and resigned: "What did you do, when you thought Nate and mom were gone for good?"
At the mention of Kamaria, her breath catches slightly, because that story—the real version, not the one filtered through gossip—had always felt like something too big to ask about. She hadn’t known that her mother had walked away for so long, that Nate had left too. The weight of it lands somewhere deep in her ribs, heavy with unspoken understanding. "That’s the worst part," she murmurs at last, voice quiet and careful as if afraid saying it louder might shatter something. "You do it for them. You think... if I just handle this, if I make it safer, they’ll be proud of me. They’ll feel safe. They’ll understand." Her fingers wrap around the warm mug of cider, letting it burn gently into her palms. "And then it blows up and everyone’s just... gone. Or hurt. Or both."
She turns the cup slowly in her hands, catching the faint swirl of steam. "Jack said I made Torchline into a prison. That he didn’t feel safe around me anymore. But I thought—I really thought I was making it safer. That giving up a little of myself was better than letting the Family take everything. And yeah, maybe it was dumb. But I had a plan. I had backup. I wasn’t just being reckless." And, with Jack being what he was, Flora had honestly thought he'd see that.
Lifting her eyes to him, Flora frowns faintly, struggling to hold the contradictions together inside her. "And I knew it might still go wrong. I guess I just thought... if it did, I’d be the only one who paid the price." Her voice wavers on that last part, turning inward, because that's where things really could have gone so horribly wrong. But then, that's what the revivify feather was for, wasn't it? What Ronin and Remi's abilities were for? "I didn’t think he’d leave."
There’s a beat, her throat tightening, before she sniffs and takes a small sip of her drink. Then, with a breath that’s equal parts bitter and resigned: "What did you do, when you thought Nate and mom were gone for good?"
