with each love i cut loose i was never the same
The dock creaked beneath her feet as Flora marched toward the Northaven, wind tugging at the edges of her wrap skirt and sending her curls flying like a banner of intent. The morning sun was sharp on the sea, all glitter and bite, but she barely noticed it—too focused on the ridiculous, completely real, absolutely not made-up errand she was about to deliver.
She reached the gangplank and cupped her hands around her mouth, voice ringing out over the hush of the bay: "DAAAAAAAAAD." No response. She tried again, louder this time, like the sea itself needed to know. "REMIGTON TALIESIN! You owe a god a game of hopscotch."
Somewhere on board, something clanked. Possibly a pan. Possibly her father’s dignity. "Don’t make me come up there and draw chalk outlines across the deck," Flora warned, already halfway up the ramp.
She stomped aboard like the messenger of divine foolishness she had become, muttering under her breath, "Heralds. You give 'em a spinning top and suddenly you’re delivering playground summons to demigods."
She reached the gangplank and cupped her hands around her mouth, voice ringing out over the hush of the bay: "DAAAAAAAAAD." No response. She tried again, louder this time, like the sea itself needed to know. "REMIGTON TALIESIN! You owe a god a game of hopscotch."
Somewhere on board, something clanked. Possibly a pan. Possibly her father’s dignity. "Don’t make me come up there and draw chalk outlines across the deck," Flora warned, already halfway up the ramp.
She stomped aboard like the messenger of divine foolishness she had become, muttering under her breath, "Heralds. You give 'em a spinning top and suddenly you’re delivering playground summons to demigods."
