marked me like a bloodstain
The hel’s wings cut the air too close for comfort, and Flora’s head snaps up with an irritated hiss, aqua eyes narrowing as the creature hops nearer with its greedy little tilt of beak and expectation. Spice flares her wings in warning, a cold puff chasing the hel back a step, but the thing lingers in that insolent way creatures do when they know the world rarely denies them. Flora exhales through her nose, unimpressed, then makes a decision.
Without asking, she slides her arm through Liam’s and curls her hand around his forearm in a hold that is warm, firm, and entirely non-negotiable. "Come on, this way," she says, already tugging him sideways through the crowd before he can protest, steering him out of the press of sunburnt shoulders and jangling coin purses and into a narrower lane that opens toward the shore. She keeps him close as they walk, hip brushing his side now and again, the contact steady and deliberate, as though she’s anchoring him by sheer insistence.
The sand greets them with a softer hush than the market stones, and she doesn’t let go until they’ve stepped far enough from the noise that the sea can be heard breathing in and out against the tide. Only then does her grip loosen slightly, though her arm remains threaded through his, her body angled toward him in quiet solidarity unless he chooses to pull away.
She listens as he explains, her steps slowing across the sand. When he finishes, she turns her head to look at him properly, raising her brows in an emphatic arc that borders on incredulous. "Okay," she says carefully, and then winces faintly. "Sorry if I’m being an idiot here, but... isn’t the fact that she might be alive a good thing?" The question isn’t careless; it’s earnest, even if it lands blunt. She searches his face as though trying to understand where the logic splintered. "I mean, it’s way easier to get someone’s memories back than to bring them back from the dead," she continues, a touch more heat entering her tone, not anger but conviction. "Trust me, I've done both now," she adds under her breath, the words edged with something personal and lived-in.
She shifts her weight in the sand, curls catching the breeze, and her gaze turns thoughtful. "You should talk to Remi," she says after a moment. "He can see if she’s in Mort’s realm, if that’s what you’re worried about. And if this is memory loss...well, I mean, he’s had his wiped more times than I can count. If anyone knows what that looks like—or how to fix it—it’s him."
Without asking, she slides her arm through Liam’s and curls her hand around his forearm in a hold that is warm, firm, and entirely non-negotiable. "Come on, this way," she says, already tugging him sideways through the crowd before he can protest, steering him out of the press of sunburnt shoulders and jangling coin purses and into a narrower lane that opens toward the shore. She keeps him close as they walk, hip brushing his side now and again, the contact steady and deliberate, as though she’s anchoring him by sheer insistence.
The sand greets them with a softer hush than the market stones, and she doesn’t let go until they’ve stepped far enough from the noise that the sea can be heard breathing in and out against the tide. Only then does her grip loosen slightly, though her arm remains threaded through his, her body angled toward him in quiet solidarity unless he chooses to pull away.
She listens as he explains, her steps slowing across the sand. When he finishes, she turns her head to look at him properly, raising her brows in an emphatic arc that borders on incredulous. "Okay," she says carefully, and then winces faintly. "Sorry if I’m being an idiot here, but... isn’t the fact that she might be alive a good thing?" The question isn’t careless; it’s earnest, even if it lands blunt. She searches his face as though trying to understand where the logic splintered. "I mean, it’s way easier to get someone’s memories back than to bring them back from the dead," she continues, a touch more heat entering her tone, not anger but conviction. "Trust me, I've done both now," she adds under her breath, the words edged with something personal and lived-in.
She shifts her weight in the sand, curls catching the breeze, and her gaze turns thoughtful. "You should talk to Remi," she says after a moment. "He can see if she’s in Mort’s realm, if that’s what you’re worried about. And if this is memory loss...well, I mean, he’s had his wiped more times than I can count. If anyone knows what that looks like—or how to fix it—it’s him."
