never be so kind you forget to be clever
Torchline’s afternoon tide slid forward in lazy, sun-warmed breaths, each small wave lapping against the legs of a weather-bleached chair planted knee-deep in the surf. Flora lounged in it—or tried to, sandals tossed aside, sea-foam hissing around her calves. A woven sun-hat shaded her aqua eyes, and Spice dozed on the armrest, the little dragon’s tail flicking salt droplets like a metronome.
Don’t think about it.
She drew a slow breath, tasting brine and hibiscus on the wind. The quest was simple in wording, impossible in practice: hold a memory at bay. The one Flora had gone with was Jack’s voice, hoarse and startled, in the Sidhe Village just a night after both of them clawed back from death: I love you, too.
Flora exhaled, letting the wave retreat. Not thinking about it, she told herself, focusing instead on the rhythmic pull of water, on the gulls wheeling overhead, on the glint of a kite-fish leaping farther out.
I love you, too.
The words ricocheted anyway, softer now, echoing in spaces she’d tried to wall off. So her mind lurched sideways, hunting safer ground—and landed, predictably, in the Celestine. Koa with sunflowers in his hands, meeting her eyes beneath fairy lights, saying I’m in love with you like it was equal parts confession and curse. The rush of heat in her veins. The bloom of possibility that never got to flower.
"Ugh." The groan tore free before she could stop it. She snapped her eyes open, sunlight stabbing silver off the water, and kicked a sheet of foam outward. It splashed harmlessly, startling a crab scuttling by her toes. Spice cracked one eye, chirped reproachfully, and settled again.
Don’t think about it.
She drew a slow breath, tasting brine and hibiscus on the wind. The quest was simple in wording, impossible in practice: hold a memory at bay. The one Flora had gone with was Jack’s voice, hoarse and startled, in the Sidhe Village just a night after both of them clawed back from death: I love you, too.
Flora exhaled, letting the wave retreat. Not thinking about it, she told herself, focusing instead on the rhythmic pull of water, on the gulls wheeling overhead, on the glint of a kite-fish leaping farther out.
I love you, too.
The words ricocheted anyway, softer now, echoing in spaces she’d tried to wall off. So her mind lurched sideways, hunting safer ground—and landed, predictably, in the Celestine. Koa with sunflowers in his hands, meeting her eyes beneath fairy lights, saying I’m in love with you like it was equal parts confession and curse. The rush of heat in her veins. The bloom of possibility that never got to flower.
"Ugh." The groan tore free before she could stop it. She snapped her eyes open, sunlight stabbing silver off the water, and kicked a sheet of foam outward. It splashed harmlessly, startling a crab scuttling by her toes. Spice cracked one eye, chirped reproachfully, and settled again.
