Flora
Flora stays quiet for a while, her mouth occupied with the sharp bite of lemon and the lingering tension she’s trying not to taste more than the citrus. Beside her, Jack mutters about Starfall and Bassian and pain, and she doesn’t offer anything at first—doesn’t say good or sorry to hear it, doesn’t even nod. Just snickers low in her throat at the thought of Bassian turning checkers into an existential crisis. It’s enough to coax a flicker of something not awful into the space between them.
She watches the ocean, not him, even though she knows exactly where he is at all times. Their shadows fall parallel, almost touching.
When Starfall comes up, her thoughts shift too fast for her to stop them—sliding back to Hadama and tunnels and everything she’s tried to stay out of. The Mirewyrm, the Webvex, Jack saying it wasn’t worth dying over. That fucking rose. It all rushes back, and without thinking, she shoves the popsicle into her mouth all the way to the stick. Something to occupy her, something to bite that'll bite back enough to shift her thoughts.
It’s a second or two before she pulls it free again and shrugs, her voice quiet but edged. "I think the demigods need to step the fuck up," she says eventually, not quite looking at him. "They’re the ones who made all the promises. Who got handed power by the gods themselves and agreed to go out and put themselves in this sort of danger."
Another slow lick, more thoughtful now. "If we're at the point where Jack Barclay is the one burning himself out to save the world, that's a problem." Her tone is perhaps a touch wry as she hazards a glance at him over one shoulder before sliding the popsicle back over her tongue.
She watches the ocean, not him, even though she knows exactly where he is at all times. Their shadows fall parallel, almost touching.
When Starfall comes up, her thoughts shift too fast for her to stop them—sliding back to Hadama and tunnels and everything she’s tried to stay out of. The Mirewyrm, the Webvex, Jack saying it wasn’t worth dying over. That fucking rose. It all rushes back, and without thinking, she shoves the popsicle into her mouth all the way to the stick. Something to occupy her, something to bite that'll bite back enough to shift her thoughts.
It’s a second or two before she pulls it free again and shrugs, her voice quiet but edged. "I think the demigods need to step the fuck up," she says eventually, not quite looking at him. "They’re the ones who made all the promises. Who got handed power by the gods themselves and agreed to go out and put themselves in this sort of danger."
Another slow lick, more thoughtful now. "If we're at the point where Jack Barclay is the one burning himself out to save the world, that's a problem." Her tone is perhaps a touch wry as she hazards a glance at him over one shoulder before sliding the popsicle back over her tongue.
I trace the evidence, make it make some sense
why the wound is still bleedin'
why the wound is still bleedin'
Code stolen from Queen Sky
