we show off our different scarlet letters
A salty breeze curled through the palms as Flora yanked open the door to the Hanged Man, the “NO HEARTBREAK ALLOWED” sign flapping smugly above her head. It was noon and while the world beyond the tavern’s enchanted threshold was a molten, blinding mess—sun like a vengeful god overhead, sand practically hissing with heat—But inside, it was dusk. Always dusk. A soft breeze ghosted through the open-walled bar, rustling lanterns and fringe with a kind of lazy elegance that matched the beat of the live band already warming up in the corner.
The crowd was still thickening, the first wave of partygoers trailing laughter and glitter and the scent of sun-oil behind them, slipping through the transition from sweltering LongHeat to cool, violet-hued celebration. Flora stood in the centre of it all, a vision in a white corset crop top and denim shorts that barely deserved the name, red heels clicking against the bar’s wooden floor like a warning. And of course, her lips matched her shoes.
"If anyone starts crying, I swear to gods, I will personally stuff their tears into a salt-rimmed glass and make them drink it," she declared to no one in particular but loud enough to catch a few heads.
She smoothed her curls back, eyes sweeping the growing crowd—merfolk half-surfaced at the water’s edge, sailors and smugglers tossing back shots over games over cards, friends weaving between trays of fresh fruit and skewers and wildly themed cocktails (most of which were glittering, smoking, or both). It was chaotic, indulgent, gorgeous. Everything she needed it to be.
Even if she wouldn’t be able to come back after tonight.
Flora took a steadying breath. Then she grabbed two drinks from the tray of a passing server and tossed one.
Welcome to Flora's LongHeat party to celebrate the Marin triplets taking over the Hanged Man and to send Flora off (since she won't be able to enter the city after this). Free booze and food!
The crowd was still thickening, the first wave of partygoers trailing laughter and glitter and the scent of sun-oil behind them, slipping through the transition from sweltering LongHeat to cool, violet-hued celebration. Flora stood in the centre of it all, a vision in a white corset crop top and denim shorts that barely deserved the name, red heels clicking against the bar’s wooden floor like a warning. And of course, her lips matched her shoes.
"If anyone starts crying, I swear to gods, I will personally stuff their tears into a salt-rimmed glass and make them drink it," she declared to no one in particular but loud enough to catch a few heads.
She smoothed her curls back, eyes sweeping the growing crowd—merfolk half-surfaced at the water’s edge, sailors and smugglers tossing back shots over games over cards, friends weaving between trays of fresh fruit and skewers and wildly themed cocktails (most of which were glittering, smoking, or both). It was chaotic, indulgent, gorgeous. Everything she needed it to be.
Even if she wouldn’t be able to come back after tonight.
Flora took a steadying breath. Then she grabbed two drinks from the tray of a passing server and tossed one.
Welcome to Flora's LongHeat party to celebrate the Marin triplets taking over the Hanged Man and to send Flora off (since she won't be able to enter the city after this). Free booze and food!
