your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand
"I thought so too," Flora says, her voice coloured with something half-thoughtful, half-mocking. Her gaze traces the jagged edge of the meteor island as if expecting it to shift when she blinks. "Like it’d slurp back into the clouds with a dramatic noise and leave behind a puff of evil-smoke."
Spice, apparently moved by the same tentative threads of friendship stretching between queen and dragoon, lets out a thrilled chirrup and launches from the masthead. She dives straight toward Pipsqueak with an obnoxiously well-aimed puff of cold, icy breath. The moment it hits, she screeches joyfully and banks left at speed, tail spiralling behind her as she tries to lure him into a game of chase.
Flora grins, not bothering to scold. "It’s true," she admits with a shrug, casting Koa a glance. "Plenty of time for me to turn invisible and emotionally bail when things get dicey." Her eyes glitter with mischief, but there’s honesty tucked behind the sass. The humour is a warm blanket around the fragile truth they’re both dancing around, but honestly, this is easier than things have been in years, so she's inclined to just go with it.
The Sugartide eases downward, sails drawing in like folded wings. Flora adjusts the tiller with a light touch and angles the ship low over the shoreline, just above where purple rock meets frothing sea. A rope ladder unfurls with a heavy clunk, and the queen doesn’t hesitate. She swings over the side and descends, boots landing with a faint crunch on Starfall’s cratered stone.
As soon as her feet hit the ground, she stills.
The air smells clean. No flicker, no hum of pressure, no pulsing void heartbeat. Just wind, sea salt, and the faint sound of waves arguing with the rock. Flora frowns and glances up at Koa. "Okay, so like, I kind of expected...dread? Maybe a migraine. Some dramatic hallucinations. But this?" She spreads her arms, sweater bunching at the wrists. "It's all just...normal." And as they’ve already agreed — that’s the weirdest thing of all.
Spice, apparently moved by the same tentative threads of friendship stretching between queen and dragoon, lets out a thrilled chirrup and launches from the masthead. She dives straight toward Pipsqueak with an obnoxiously well-aimed puff of cold, icy breath. The moment it hits, she screeches joyfully and banks left at speed, tail spiralling behind her as she tries to lure him into a game of chase.
Flora grins, not bothering to scold. "It’s true," she admits with a shrug, casting Koa a glance. "Plenty of time for me to turn invisible and emotionally bail when things get dicey." Her eyes glitter with mischief, but there’s honesty tucked behind the sass. The humour is a warm blanket around the fragile truth they’re both dancing around, but honestly, this is easier than things have been in years, so she's inclined to just go with it.
The Sugartide eases downward, sails drawing in like folded wings. Flora adjusts the tiller with a light touch and angles the ship low over the shoreline, just above where purple rock meets frothing sea. A rope ladder unfurls with a heavy clunk, and the queen doesn’t hesitate. She swings over the side and descends, boots landing with a faint crunch on Starfall’s cratered stone.
As soon as her feet hit the ground, she stills.
The air smells clean. No flicker, no hum of pressure, no pulsing void heartbeat. Just wind, sea salt, and the faint sound of waves arguing with the rock. Flora frowns and glances up at Koa. "Okay, so like, I kind of expected...dread? Maybe a migraine. Some dramatic hallucinations. But this?" She spreads her arms, sweater bunching at the wrists. "It's all just...normal." And as they’ve already agreed — that’s the weirdest thing of all.
