flora
The Sugartide cuts through the clouds with reckless grace, sails taut with defiance and grief. Flora doesn’t care about altitude protocol or assigned landing zones; her knuckles are white on the wheel, curls whipping around her like a gilded storm as Stormbreak’s skyline rises to meet her. She’s read the letter three times now and still can’t quite make her breath come easy.
Tarak is gone.
The Sugartide lands like a queen who forgot her crown at home and didn’t give a damn—right in the centre of the Pacifist Plaza. The grand square recoils and then rushes to adjust, startled birds taking flight and shoppers scrambling back with cries of protest as Flora leaps over the railing.
She’s empty-handed. No flowers, not even any wine; just a heart clawing at her ribs and the quiet certainty that her best friend is hurting—and that nothing else matters.
The plaza breathes around her—sunlight slicing through temple arches, market vendors blinking in surprise, whispers already curling through the crowd like tidefoam. Queen of Torchline, radiant and raw, arriving like a storm with no warning.
"SOH?"
Tarak is gone.
The Sugartide lands like a queen who forgot her crown at home and didn’t give a damn—right in the centre of the Pacifist Plaza. The grand square recoils and then rushes to adjust, startled birds taking flight and shoppers scrambling back with cries of protest as Flora leaps over the railing.
She’s empty-handed. No flowers, not even any wine; just a heart clawing at her ribs and the quiet certainty that her best friend is hurting—and that nothing else matters.
The plaza breathes around her—sunlight slicing through temple arches, market vendors blinking in surprise, whispers already curling through the crowd like tidefoam. Queen of Torchline, radiant and raw, arriving like a storm with no warning.
"SOH?"
I'm stupid but I'm clever
I can make a shitshow look a whole lot like forever and ever
I can make a shitshow look a whole lot like forever and ever
