Flora
Flora glances up at Jack, her expression softening into a quiet sort of smile that doesn't belong between them anymore; not after the way things shattered and tore. The compliment is subtle, but coming from Jack, it feels like something rare and precious, a piece of sea glass smoothed over by the weight of things unsaid between them even now. "Thanks," she murmurs softly, the word warm and genuine in a way she knows he’ll hear clearly.
But because a simple thank-you doesn't feel quite enough, she lets herself linger on thoughts of gentle waves catching sunlight, each crest glittering like spun gold; of the refreshing chill of seawater kissing sun-warmed skin; of the soft hush—wshh wshh wshh—of the waves, rhythmic and soothing, trying to give him back a little of the calm he seems to have lost, a quiet gift left at the doorstep of his mind.
The breakfast invitation catches Flora completely off-guard, pulling her from her quiet reverie. She blinks behind her sunglasses, lips parting slightly in surprise before the words slip past them anyway: "Yeah, okay." The agreement startles her even as she says it, her heart giving a brief little lurch like a boat nudging gently against a dock. There’s a flicker of uncertainty beneath her casual acceptance, the familiar worry that they’ve already charted these waters, that there’s nowhere left for them to go but around in dizzying circles. Yet something about the careful, cautious way they’ve been stepping around each other feels like it might be okay; like maybe civil could quietly blur into being friendly, just this once.
Right?
Flora pushes herself away from the railing, moving alongside Jack toward their breakfast spot with the kind of careful ease someone might use stepping over weather-worn boards—aware they might splinter beneath careless feet, but choosing to trust them anyway. She casts him a sidelong glance as they fall into step together, her fingers absently adjusting the knot of her tank top.
"Sooooo," she says, slipping casually into small talk as though testing out how this new, cautious friendliness might fit between them, "how do you do that thing with the ropes? You know—the one when the sails are all pulled in, and there's too much line just left on the deck?"
But because a simple thank-you doesn't feel quite enough, she lets herself linger on thoughts of gentle waves catching sunlight, each crest glittering like spun gold; of the refreshing chill of seawater kissing sun-warmed skin; of the soft hush—wshh wshh wshh—of the waves, rhythmic and soothing, trying to give him back a little of the calm he seems to have lost, a quiet gift left at the doorstep of his mind.
The breakfast invitation catches Flora completely off-guard, pulling her from her quiet reverie. She blinks behind her sunglasses, lips parting slightly in surprise before the words slip past them anyway: "Yeah, okay." The agreement startles her even as she says it, her heart giving a brief little lurch like a boat nudging gently against a dock. There’s a flicker of uncertainty beneath her casual acceptance, the familiar worry that they’ve already charted these waters, that there’s nowhere left for them to go but around in dizzying circles. Yet something about the careful, cautious way they’ve been stepping around each other feels like it might be okay; like maybe civil could quietly blur into being friendly, just this once.
Right?
Flora pushes herself away from the railing, moving alongside Jack toward their breakfast spot with the kind of careful ease someone might use stepping over weather-worn boards—aware they might splinter beneath careless feet, but choosing to trust them anyway. She casts him a sidelong glance as they fall into step together, her fingers absently adjusting the knot of her tank top.
"Sooooo," she says, slipping casually into small talk as though testing out how this new, cautious friendliness might fit between them, "how do you do that thing with the ropes? You know—the one when the sails are all pulled in, and there's too much line just left on the deck?"
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
