flora
Flora yanked the wheel hard to starboard, La Verbena lurching like a startled bird as her sails snapped taut with wind. Grace be damned—she needed altitude and distance, now. The air shimmered with heat and void-touched pressure, and the Doubletake didn’t even glance back to confirm the wyrm’s position; the sickly ripple of its presence was enough to keep her foot heavy on the rudder pedal, every rope-line singing under strain.
She twisted her invisibility ring again once they’d cleared the worst of the desert’s currents, shimmering back into view with a scowl that could have curdled rum. "Gods, I bet he just fucked Safrin and picked up some shiny little trinket on his way out," she muttered, dragging a hand through her windblown curls. "Wouldn’t even surprise me if it came in a souvenir box."
The ship groaned as Flora banked toward the Greatwood’s skyport, finally levelling them into smoother air, the shimmer of trees rising like a promise on the horizon. "We’re getting lunch," she called to Mateo, not bothering to look back. "I’m not nearly dying over dream cactus and not getting something fried for my trouble."
And with La Verbena gliding toward safer skies, the desert heat behind them and an appetite building in her stomach and her temper, Flora allowed herself to breathe again. Not relief—just breathing—which was basically close enough.
~FIN
She twisted her invisibility ring again once they’d cleared the worst of the desert’s currents, shimmering back into view with a scowl that could have curdled rum. "Gods, I bet he just fucked Safrin and picked up some shiny little trinket on his way out," she muttered, dragging a hand through her windblown curls. "Wouldn’t even surprise me if it came in a souvenir box."
The ship groaned as Flora banked toward the Greatwood’s skyport, finally levelling them into smoother air, the shimmer of trees rising like a promise on the horizon. "We’re getting lunch," she called to Mateo, not bothering to look back. "I’m not nearly dying over dream cactus and not getting something fried for my trouble."
And with La Verbena gliding toward safer skies, the desert heat behind them and an appetite building in her stomach and her temper, Flora allowed herself to breathe again. Not relief—just breathing—which was basically close enough.
~FIN
My house of stone, your ivy grows
And now I'm covered in you
And now I'm covered in you
