& if you never bleed you're never gonna grow
Flora catches Jack with both arms as if she’s any kind of net at all, tugging him sharply toward her with the wild-eyed, breathless momentum of someone who absolutely would have gone overboard trying to catch him if he missed. "Gods am I glad to see you," she says under her breath, the words stitched from stormwinds and instinct, from the pure, ragged relief that crashes through her as soon as his boots hit her deck.
"Spice has the wheel," she shouts over the shrieking wind, and right on cue the little white dragon chirps defiantly from her perch, claws dug in, wings splayed for balance. "This wasn’t...this wasn’t on purpose, I swear," Flora adds quickly, words spilling out like they’ve been threatening to all along. Not like before. Not some feigned stumble or staged detour just to get his attention. "I didn’t mean to see you." It sounds unconvincing even to her own ears.
But the threat lurches back to the forefront as Jack’s magic flares again and Flora’s focus sharpens. "Cannons?" she echoes a brittle, too-bright laugh leaving her as she strides toward the edge of the ship. "No, I opted for a magical kitchen upgrade. Figured that was the priority." She quips, though tension laces tight beneath her quip, voice cracking like frost across stone.
In one smooth motion, she draws two feathered daggers, poison-laced and gleaming despite the cold. Flinging both with deadly accuracy toward the void ursur below, they arc through the air like angry stars before vanishing into the dark shape beneath them. "There’s an island—" she shouts again, bracing one hand against the railing, her curls whipped half loose in the gale. "Small one. South-southwest. Not big enough for the Ark, but I might be able to land long enough to thaw her out." She doesn’t look at him when she says it. Doesn’t want to see what opinion might be etched across his face now that she’s dragged him into this mess. "If you could help me get her there?"
"Spice has the wheel," she shouts over the shrieking wind, and right on cue the little white dragon chirps defiantly from her perch, claws dug in, wings splayed for balance. "This wasn’t...this wasn’t on purpose, I swear," Flora adds quickly, words spilling out like they’ve been threatening to all along. Not like before. Not some feigned stumble or staged detour just to get his attention. "I didn’t mean to see you." It sounds unconvincing even to her own ears.
But the threat lurches back to the forefront as Jack’s magic flares again and Flora’s focus sharpens. "Cannons?" she echoes a brittle, too-bright laugh leaving her as she strides toward the edge of the ship. "No, I opted for a magical kitchen upgrade. Figured that was the priority." She quips, though tension laces tight beneath her quip, voice cracking like frost across stone.
In one smooth motion, she draws two feathered daggers, poison-laced and gleaming despite the cold. Flinging both with deadly accuracy toward the void ursur below, they arc through the air like angry stars before vanishing into the dark shape beneath them. "There’s an island—" she shouts again, bracing one hand against the railing, her curls whipped half loose in the gale. "Small one. South-southwest. Not big enough for the Ark, but I might be able to land long enough to thaw her out." She doesn’t look at him when she says it. Doesn’t want to see what opinion might be etched across his face now that she’s dragged him into this mess. "If you could help me get her there?"
