you look like my next mistake
The moment Thalassa takes off like a void-streaked comet, Flora throws her whole weight into the wheel. The Sugar Tide lurches in protest—more startled than rebellious this time—as its sails flare wide with the wind. The skyship catches the current like a breath held too long, and then they’re flying.
Not soaring, maybe, not yet—not with the grace Thal has—but flying in the way that makes Flora’s heart pound and her voice spill out in a half-laughed scream. "Go, go, go!" she shouts to no one and everything, wind tearing at her curls, her whole body leaning into the momentum as if she could will the ship to go faster just by loving it hard enough.
The stained-glass sails shimmer with speed, their coloured reflections flickering madly across the deck and over her skin. The rush of air, the roar of rigging, the stretch of the ocean and sky around them—she’s drunk on it. When Thal glances back, Flora is still standing at the helm, grinning like a madwoman and giving her a double-handed shooing motion to keep going. Her laughter is carried on the wind like music, chasing after the lyvern’s tail with reckless delight.
"Alright!" she calls, voice hoarse from grinning. She slaps the wheel with one hand, beaming up at the sky where Thal hovers like a smug slice of night. "You win! Bring us in—I don’t want to land solo."
Not soaring, maybe, not yet—not with the grace Thal has—but flying in the way that makes Flora’s heart pound and her voice spill out in a half-laughed scream. "Go, go, go!" she shouts to no one and everything, wind tearing at her curls, her whole body leaning into the momentum as if she could will the ship to go faster just by loving it hard enough.
The stained-glass sails shimmer with speed, their coloured reflections flickering madly across the deck and over her skin. The rush of air, the roar of rigging, the stretch of the ocean and sky around them—she’s drunk on it. When Thal glances back, Flora is still standing at the helm, grinning like a madwoman and giving her a double-handed shooing motion to keep going. Her laughter is carried on the wind like music, chasing after the lyvern’s tail with reckless delight.
"Alright!" she calls, voice hoarse from grinning. She slaps the wheel with one hand, beaming up at the sky where Thal hovers like a smug slice of night. "You win! Bring us in—I don’t want to land solo."
