you hate the crash, but you love the rush
Flora studies the young woman across from her—the flare of resolve in her eyes, the quick grin trying to paper-over nerves—and something warm threads through the grief still nesting in her ribs. Determination looks good on family, she decides. "Skyships out of the Greatwood work a little differently." She plucks a maple seed from the moss and spins it between thumb and forefinger while she explains. "Most of the captains are fae, and will barter coin, trade goods, even stories if the mood’s right. So—"
A silver crescent slips from her pocket; she twirls it across her knuckles before pressing it into Theea’s palm. "Torchline currency spends just fine up there. Use it for passage or for the world’s sweetest pastry at the port café. Either way, you’ll make it south."
Her expression softens, blue eyes earnest in the dappling light. "Once you step off the docks in Torchline head straight for the Hanged Man—my bar on the docks. If I’m not behind the counter, someone will know where to find me. And if you feel lost before that," she adds, tapping the star-etched compass hanging at her throat, "leave a note addressed to the Doubletake. My city’s gossip network is faster than a herald spirit on caffeine."
A gust tumbles coppery leaves around their boots. Flora’s grin turns wry. "After you settle: beaches, markets, midnight bonfires—Torchline deserves the full tour. And when you want heroic? I’ll introduce you to your uncles. Ronin will try to feed you; Remi will definitely warn you not to follow me into mischief—which, honestly, is half the fun."
She closes Theea’s fingers around the coin and gives a reassuring squeeze. "Deal?"
A silver crescent slips from her pocket; she twirls it across her knuckles before pressing it into Theea’s palm. "Torchline currency spends just fine up there. Use it for passage or for the world’s sweetest pastry at the port café. Either way, you’ll make it south."
Her expression softens, blue eyes earnest in the dappling light. "Once you step off the docks in Torchline head straight for the Hanged Man—my bar on the docks. If I’m not behind the counter, someone will know where to find me. And if you feel lost before that," she adds, tapping the star-etched compass hanging at her throat, "leave a note addressed to the Doubletake. My city’s gossip network is faster than a herald spirit on caffeine."
A gust tumbles coppery leaves around their boots. Flora’s grin turns wry. "After you settle: beaches, markets, midnight bonfires—Torchline deserves the full tour. And when you want heroic? I’ll introduce you to your uncles. Ronin will try to feed you; Remi will definitely warn you not to follow me into mischief—which, honestly, is half the fun."
She closes Theea’s fingers around the coin and gives a reassuring squeeze. "Deal?"
