flora
Flora's fingers curl slowly across the thin golden band and when she looks up at Kai, her voice wobbles somewhere between apology and awe as she nods that yes, it could be made to be stronger. "If anything, you should be the one to wear it," she whispers, throat tight around the syllables. But there’s a deeper ache waiting just beneath the gold, and it’s harder to say if only because she knows Kai will likely scoff at the idea. "He’d kill us if he found out I told you," she says, barely more than breath now, biting down against the trembling that starts in her mouth and tries to find shape in her chest. Asking Kai to carry Jack's secret is something she can't do, but gods if they want to put this behind them surely the best thing to do is bury it? "Or try to." Jack might never have raised a hand against her, but gods, she’s seen the storm he can call without ever lifting a blade.
And then Kaisel says Jack hadn't loved her and that it was just control, and his words don't just land, they pierce. Something deep and delicate inside her withers, folds in on itself like petals hit by frost. Because for so long, she clung to the idea that at least Jack had loved her. That even if it wasn’t perfect, even if it had been messy and sharp and sometimes cruel, it had still been real. And now—hearing Kaisel say it out loud, in the kind of voice that only speaks when something has snapped inside—she feels the bottom drop out from under that belief. Like maybe she’s been standing on a hollow version of love this whole time, and everyone around her had seen the cracks she refused to. Sohalia. Melita. Her family. None of them ever liked Jack, and they didn’t even know. What would they say if they did? Would they echo this same truth, cold and shattering, and leave her with nothing to hold onto but the ache of being wrong?
She nods, but the motion lacks conviction. It's the kind of nod that only happens when arguing would hurt more than admitting it might be true.
Silence pools between them, but not the empty kind; this one holds weight, holds breath, holds everything that still hasn't found words. And when he says that he wouldn't have let her go, that when she called him here, when she’d stumbled over everything she couldn't say, he thought she might be saying goodbye, that he'd never planned on letting her, her breath hitches. Her eyes blink fast, a stunned sort of light cutting through the haze, a flash of clarity that flares hot and real. "You wouldn’t?" she breathes, the question stitched with disbelief and wonder and something dangerously close to hope. The world tilts and the air feels thinner, easier to breathe, like maybe something just shifted back into place, or maybe it was never there at all and this is what it feels like to choose right.
As his fingers reach for hers, she meets him halfway, lacing them together like a promise. She presses their hands to her chest, holding them there like she’s trying to fuse the moment into her ribs, her bones, her heart, before pressing her truth ring against his palm. "Even if Jack had gotten down on one knee in the lighthouse," she murmurs, voice ragged with feeling, "even if he’d apologised for everything, if he’d gotten rid of his telepathy, if he’d undone all the awful—" She swallows, hard, then finishes softly, "I’d still choose you." She squeezes his hands tighter, the motion trembling but fierce. "This is the love I want," she says, stronger now, like the truth has finally grown roots in her. "You’re the one I want, Kaisel."
And then Kaisel says Jack hadn't loved her and that it was just control, and his words don't just land, they pierce. Something deep and delicate inside her withers, folds in on itself like petals hit by frost. Because for so long, she clung to the idea that at least Jack had loved her. That even if it wasn’t perfect, even if it had been messy and sharp and sometimes cruel, it had still been real. And now—hearing Kaisel say it out loud, in the kind of voice that only speaks when something has snapped inside—she feels the bottom drop out from under that belief. Like maybe she’s been standing on a hollow version of love this whole time, and everyone around her had seen the cracks she refused to. Sohalia. Melita. Her family. None of them ever liked Jack, and they didn’t even know. What would they say if they did? Would they echo this same truth, cold and shattering, and leave her with nothing to hold onto but the ache of being wrong?
She nods, but the motion lacks conviction. It's the kind of nod that only happens when arguing would hurt more than admitting it might be true.
Silence pools between them, but not the empty kind; this one holds weight, holds breath, holds everything that still hasn't found words. And when he says that he wouldn't have let her go, that when she called him here, when she’d stumbled over everything she couldn't say, he thought she might be saying goodbye, that he'd never planned on letting her, her breath hitches. Her eyes blink fast, a stunned sort of light cutting through the haze, a flash of clarity that flares hot and real. "You wouldn’t?" she breathes, the question stitched with disbelief and wonder and something dangerously close to hope. The world tilts and the air feels thinner, easier to breathe, like maybe something just shifted back into place, or maybe it was never there at all and this is what it feels like to choose right.
As his fingers reach for hers, she meets him halfway, lacing them together like a promise. She presses their hands to her chest, holding them there like she’s trying to fuse the moment into her ribs, her bones, her heart, before pressing her truth ring against his palm. "Even if Jack had gotten down on one knee in the lighthouse," she murmurs, voice ragged with feeling, "even if he’d apologised for everything, if he’d gotten rid of his telepathy, if he’d undone all the awful—" She swallows, hard, then finishes softly, "I’d still choose you." She squeezes his hands tighter, the motion trembling but fierce. "This is the love I want," she says, stronger now, like the truth has finally grown roots in her. "You’re the one I want, Kaisel."
Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness
'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea
'Cause it's all over now, all out to sea
