flora
Flora’s grin turns crooked at that—sharp at one corner, softer at the other—and for once there is no clever rejoinder waiting behind it, no glittering deflection ready to be unsheathed. Melita is not the sort to hand out praise like party favours. She doesn't say things because she ought to, she says them because she means them, and that makes the words land with a weight that sinks warm and steady into Flora’s ribs. The Doubletake lets out a small huff of laughter at that, but it’s quieter than before, threaded with something gentler. She dips her head, curls shifting slightly in their precarious twist, and for a heartbeat she just watches the light scatter across the water between them.
"Thanks," she says, simpler than she usually allows herself to be. One shoulder lifts in an almost-shrug that fails to disguise how deliberately she chooses the moment, not wanting to ruin it by being overly gushy with affection. "That means a lot"
She'd never minded defending Jack or standing stubborn and bright against the chorus of disapproval, gold rings flashing as she carved out space for him. The world could think what it liked; she hadn't needed permission. But this—this uncomplicated approval, this quiet collective nod toward something that is hers and good and steady—feels like warm sand beneath bare feet. It feels right. It feels easy.
Her smile threatens to spill over into something embarrassingly luminous, and she reins it in with a long sip from her drink, the curl of the straw bobbing absurdly against her mouth. She will not become intolerable about it. Not yet anyway.
"Banshee hunting?" she repeats, sunglasses sliding down her nose again as she stares at Melita over the rim. She inhales sharply, theatrically, a wince on her lips. "He must have hated that." The queen has no desire to dissect the reason for the hunt, and she doesn't ask. Melita’s loyalties have always been a little tangled between she and Jack, knotted like fishing lines caught in the same tide, and while Flora has never bought the honeybee a ship to keep her around, she's more than happy to be able to think of Melita as a friend.
Flora's brows lift immediately, curiosity flashing bright behind the tinted lenses at the mention of cannon things. "Oh?" she prompts, leaning forward just enough to make the float wobble again. "Do tell." Then she laughs, the sound quick and delighted. "I was literally just talking to Ronin about you, about how it's absolutely time we get the cannon RQ going."
"Thanks," she says, simpler than she usually allows herself to be. One shoulder lifts in an almost-shrug that fails to disguise how deliberately she chooses the moment, not wanting to ruin it by being overly gushy with affection. "That means a lot"
She'd never minded defending Jack or standing stubborn and bright against the chorus of disapproval, gold rings flashing as she carved out space for him. The world could think what it liked; she hadn't needed permission. But this—this uncomplicated approval, this quiet collective nod toward something that is hers and good and steady—feels like warm sand beneath bare feet. It feels right. It feels easy.
Her smile threatens to spill over into something embarrassingly luminous, and she reins it in with a long sip from her drink, the curl of the straw bobbing absurdly against her mouth. She will not become intolerable about it. Not yet anyway.
"Banshee hunting?" she repeats, sunglasses sliding down her nose again as she stares at Melita over the rim. She inhales sharply, theatrically, a wince on her lips. "He must have hated that." The queen has no desire to dissect the reason for the hunt, and she doesn't ask. Melita’s loyalties have always been a little tangled between she and Jack, knotted like fishing lines caught in the same tide, and while Flora has never bought the honeybee a ship to keep her around, she's more than happy to be able to think of Melita as a friend.
Flora's brows lift immediately, curiosity flashing bright behind the tinted lenses at the mention of cannon things. "Oh?" she prompts, leaning forward just enough to make the float wobble again. "Do tell." Then she laughs, the sound quick and delighted. "I was literally just talking to Ronin about you, about how it's absolutely time we get the cannon RQ going."
I want to be when you fall on me like night
I wanna kill the lights
I wanna kill the lights
