candlewax & polaroids on the hardwood floor
The Sugartide cuts a bright arc through the thin mountain air, sails snapping sharp and restless as Flora urges her little ship higher than she’s ever dared. The Draig Cordillera spreads out beneath her in jagged waves of stone, peaks breaking through low-hung clouds like islands in a stormy sea. Spice curls like a warm pearl around her shoulders, wings tucked tight, while Flora hugs herself deeper into a soft knit sweater to keep the chill from sliding into her bones. It smells faintly of cedar and salt, and she pretends for a moment that it’s the dragon and not the altitude keeping her breath short.
She talks to Mateo while she flies, voice rising and falling in bursts of colour like spray cast off the bow; what she’s been doing, what she’s avoided, what she hasn’t quite admitted even to herself. Mateo gets it all in that scattershot way only she delivers: friends and fights, what happened during the masquerade with Jack, howe apparently Sohalia knew more about the whole Kaisel thing than she let on, and how the rest of her house project is going.
As the Sugartide crests over one last ridge, Flora’s words slow and circle, finally curling around the reason she dragged Mateo up into the clouds. "Remi and Ronin said there’s a shrine up here," she says, sweater sleeves pulled down to her knuckles as if that small comfort could hold the mountain air at bay. "One to Ludo, to Mort. And honestly? I don’t think anyone’s been bothering with it for a long time. Figured that made it perfect for what I need to do for my quest."
She talks to Mateo while she flies, voice rising and falling in bursts of colour like spray cast off the bow; what she’s been doing, what she’s avoided, what she hasn’t quite admitted even to herself. Mateo gets it all in that scattershot way only she delivers: friends and fights, what happened during the masquerade with Jack, howe apparently Sohalia knew more about the whole Kaisel thing than she let on, and how the rest of her house project is going.
As the Sugartide crests over one last ridge, Flora’s words slow and circle, finally curling around the reason she dragged Mateo up into the clouds. "Remi and Ronin said there’s a shrine up here," she says, sweater sleeves pulled down to her knuckles as if that small comfort could hold the mountain air at bay. "One to Ludo, to Mort. And honestly? I don’t think anyone’s been bothering with it for a long time. Figured that made it perfect for what I need to do for my quest."
