flora
Flora opens her mouth, ready to launch into another volley of indignation and playful outrage, only to pause mid-breath as Enzo’s words sink slowly beneath her skin, settling there with uncomfortable accuracy. She stares at him, lips parting softly, her brows drawn into a thoughtful knot as she realizes—gods, has he been right this whole damn time? Has she let herself mistake good enough for genuinely good, just because she'd convinced herself the options were slim and dwindling? Had she, of all people, forgotten that choosing herself was still choosing, that settling didn’t somehow turn scraps into a feast?
A long, pained groan escapes her as she pitches forward again, her forehead pressing firmly to her twin’s chest, her shoulders slumping dramatically in defeat. "Ughhhh," she moans, voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt, "I really hate it when you're right. Like, do you even know how irritating it is? Being dead doesn't automatically give you superior wisdom," she grouses half-heartedly, though there's no heat behind the complaint—only affection, grudging acceptance, and maybe just a tiny hint of relief that at least someone still sees through her bullshit. "But...yeah," she admits softly, the words begrudging but honest. "I don’t actually need the bar. And gods, you're right again—I definitely don't want to work with the Marins and pretend we're all friends. I've only gone back there once so far, and Caly had the whole place feeling so frosty it was like she was staging her own personal Deepfrost. It sucked."
She pauses thoughtfully, lashes fluttering as she chews over her brother's advice. "Except," she sighs, reluctant to acknowledge this part aloud, "maybe it only felt so cold because I let myself think there was some stupid competition." Her eyes narrow briefly, and then widen in surprise as clarity sinks in. "And fuck—there isn't. There literally isn't. I'm the actual queen here, Enzo. What the fuck am I competing for?" Flora blinks, expression caught between exasperation at herself and delight in the newfound revelation. "Definitely not for the approval of Jack's daughter." Which, y'know, no offense to Caly who Flora normally quite liked.
With a gentle sigh, the queen pulls back slightly, her gaze softening as she affectionately traces the familiar lines of Enzo's face—the scatter of freckles, the curl of his lashes, the familiar curve of his smile that haunts her memory in every quiet moment. "Honestly?" she murmurs quietly, voice dropping to something tender and raw, reserved only for him. "I feel...kind of lost. Like, I moved out of our old house in Haulani, built myself the cutest little skyship to wait out the chaos, and now that I can go back—now that it’s safe—part of me doesn't even want to, which is crazy, because living on a boat is ridiculously hard, but...our house just...it feels like a place I left." Not that she'd ever actually leave the house she and her twin had moved into together when they'd first come to the city, but certainly now it felt haunted by the ghost of the girl she used to be.
"Like ,the Family’s gone, the city’s calm again, and I’m supposed to just slot back into everything like nothing happened. But everything did happen. And now I don’t know where I’m supposed to be." Her voice softens as she leans her head against his shoulder again, curls brushing his jaw. "It’s easy to be queen when there’s a threat. When you’re fighting for your home, for your people, for something. But now? Now it’s parades and paperwork and pretending I don’t mind showing up to events alone. I’m not even sure if the loneliness is new, or if I’ve just stopped pretending it isn’t there."
There’s a pause, one filled with the hush of waves and torchlight flicker, before she tips her head up again, catching his gaze with a little smile that’s too tired to be coy. "So. Be dead-wise and all-knowing and tell me what to do, Judge Enzo. Because all I want—besides bribing Mort to get you back permanently—is to not feel like I gave up pieces of myself to save Torchline and ended up with nothing but empty hands and a really cute ship."
She exhales, the sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, and gently tugs on one of his curls. "Fix it, brother mine. Or at least tell me what you'd do. Because right now I’d kill for a dumb plan and a matching disguise and someone to sneak out at midnight with."
A long, pained groan escapes her as she pitches forward again, her forehead pressing firmly to her twin’s chest, her shoulders slumping dramatically in defeat. "Ughhhh," she moans, voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt, "I really hate it when you're right. Like, do you even know how irritating it is? Being dead doesn't automatically give you superior wisdom," she grouses half-heartedly, though there's no heat behind the complaint—only affection, grudging acceptance, and maybe just a tiny hint of relief that at least someone still sees through her bullshit. "But...yeah," she admits softly, the words begrudging but honest. "I don’t actually need the bar. And gods, you're right again—I definitely don't want to work with the Marins and pretend we're all friends. I've only gone back there once so far, and Caly had the whole place feeling so frosty it was like she was staging her own personal Deepfrost. It sucked."
She pauses thoughtfully, lashes fluttering as she chews over her brother's advice. "Except," she sighs, reluctant to acknowledge this part aloud, "maybe it only felt so cold because I let myself think there was some stupid competition." Her eyes narrow briefly, and then widen in surprise as clarity sinks in. "And fuck—there isn't. There literally isn't. I'm the actual queen here, Enzo. What the fuck am I competing for?" Flora blinks, expression caught between exasperation at herself and delight in the newfound revelation. "Definitely not for the approval of Jack's daughter." Which, y'know, no offense to Caly who Flora normally quite liked.
With a gentle sigh, the queen pulls back slightly, her gaze softening as she affectionately traces the familiar lines of Enzo's face—the scatter of freckles, the curl of his lashes, the familiar curve of his smile that haunts her memory in every quiet moment. "Honestly?" she murmurs quietly, voice dropping to something tender and raw, reserved only for him. "I feel...kind of lost. Like, I moved out of our old house in Haulani, built myself the cutest little skyship to wait out the chaos, and now that I can go back—now that it’s safe—part of me doesn't even want to, which is crazy, because living on a boat is ridiculously hard, but...our house just...it feels like a place I left." Not that she'd ever actually leave the house she and her twin had moved into together when they'd first come to the city, but certainly now it felt haunted by the ghost of the girl she used to be.
"Like ,the Family’s gone, the city’s calm again, and I’m supposed to just slot back into everything like nothing happened. But everything did happen. And now I don’t know where I’m supposed to be." Her voice softens as she leans her head against his shoulder again, curls brushing his jaw. "It’s easy to be queen when there’s a threat. When you’re fighting for your home, for your people, for something. But now? Now it’s parades and paperwork and pretending I don’t mind showing up to events alone. I’m not even sure if the loneliness is new, or if I’ve just stopped pretending it isn’t there."
There’s a pause, one filled with the hush of waves and torchlight flicker, before she tips her head up again, catching his gaze with a little smile that’s too tired to be coy. "So. Be dead-wise and all-knowing and tell me what to do, Judge Enzo. Because all I want—besides bribing Mort to get you back permanently—is to not feel like I gave up pieces of myself to save Torchline and ended up with nothing but empty hands and a really cute ship."
She exhales, the sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, and gently tugs on one of his curls. "Fix it, brother mine. Or at least tell me what you'd do. Because right now I’d kill for a dumb plan and a matching disguise and someone to sneak out at midnight with."
you'r under the feeling like teenagers in cars
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours
