yeah I got heartbreak that I reminisce about
Flora doesn't interrupt, doesn't rush to plaster certainty over the fractures in Kai's voice, even as her brows knit instinctively and her thumbs brush the edges of his mouth like she might smooth the fear from it by touch alone. "I don’t know," she says quietly, and it costs her something to admit it, to let the word sit between them without armour. She bites the inside of her cheek, copper and salt blooming faintly on her tongue, and she is grateful that he shifts the ground beneath the argument, that it isn’t them he doubts but Jack, because that at least is something she can understand, something she can meet without feeling accused of carelessness in loving him.
Her arms slide up and around his neck, drawing them closer until their bodies align in a shape that from a distance might pass for slow dancing, their ship swaying gently beneath them as though providing the rhythm. It would almost be beautiful if not for the tightness around his eyes and the tremor threaded through her own breath. "I might not know him the way I used to," she says softly, shaking her head just enough that her braid brushes his shoulder, "but I don’t think he’d do that." Even as she says it, she hears the echo of Kaisel's inevitable answer—that thinking is not knowing, that chance is enough—and she sighs because he won’t be wrong, because there is always a chance in a world that has already proven how fragile and volatile it can be. When his curse slips out, low and raw, and she feels the tension surge again through him, something in her shifts from persuasion to grounding.
She unwinds her arms from his neck and takes his hands instead, tugging him gently down with her as she sinks to her knees on the deck. The wood is warm from the day’s sun and rough against her skin, and the act feels less like surrender and more like bracing, like choosing to meet the tremor at its source rather than pretending balance will hold. This is not a conversation to be had standing tall and swaying; it's the kind that might send them to their knees anyway, so why not get ahead of it. His words echo in her ears—reckless, gambling, keeping her dead—and they aren't new accusations. She has heard them before from different mouths in different crises, and each time something inside her has tightened rather than yielded, still not believing she was in the wrong.
"I don’t think that’s true," she says gently when he insists it isn’t worth it, her fingers tightening around his as if she can thread conviction directly into his bones. "And it wasn’t reckless." She inhales slowly, steadying herself before continuing. "If we’re accounting for every far-fetched thing he might do, then we also have to account for what he might do if we hadn’t made this deal." Her brows lift as she begins to list them, the names coming without hesitation. "Enzo, Mateo, my parent's new baby, Sohalia, Melita, Koa, Noe. Your family." The words hang heavy, not as threats but as realities she refuses to ignore. She leans forward, tangling herself against him again, pressing her forehead briefly to his chest before looking up. "My life isn’t worth all of theirs." She sees the protest forming and shakes her head quickly. "I know you hate hearing that. But it’s true."
Her voice softens, but her resolve does not. "This is all my fault for telling you in the first place when I promised Jack that I wouldn't, so it's on me to fix." She swallows, feeling the steel return to her spine as she answers his practical fear. "Yeah, the deal’s off if he breaks his side. And no, he doesn’t just lose his feather. If he breaks it, I’ll make sure he loses his life." Her aqua eyes sharpen, not reckless but calculated. "Even if that means dying three times so Ronin burns through every last resurrection on me so there’s nothing left for him."
There is no shaky adrenaline in her now, only a quiet, burning determination that feels almost frightening in its clarity. "Jack doesn’t get to win this," she says, gaze locking onto his with a steadiness that does not waver. "We do." Her thumb brushes over the dark star on his finger as if to remind him what it signifies. "And if you want extra assurance, we can go to Frey. We can bind our mouths shut magically if that’s what it takes. But this? This keeps everyone safe. And I would make that choice again."
Her arms slide up and around his neck, drawing them closer until their bodies align in a shape that from a distance might pass for slow dancing, their ship swaying gently beneath them as though providing the rhythm. It would almost be beautiful if not for the tightness around his eyes and the tremor threaded through her own breath. "I might not know him the way I used to," she says softly, shaking her head just enough that her braid brushes his shoulder, "but I don’t think he’d do that." Even as she says it, she hears the echo of Kaisel's inevitable answer—that thinking is not knowing, that chance is enough—and she sighs because he won’t be wrong, because there is always a chance in a world that has already proven how fragile and volatile it can be. When his curse slips out, low and raw, and she feels the tension surge again through him, something in her shifts from persuasion to grounding.
She unwinds her arms from his neck and takes his hands instead, tugging him gently down with her as she sinks to her knees on the deck. The wood is warm from the day’s sun and rough against her skin, and the act feels less like surrender and more like bracing, like choosing to meet the tremor at its source rather than pretending balance will hold. This is not a conversation to be had standing tall and swaying; it's the kind that might send them to their knees anyway, so why not get ahead of it. His words echo in her ears—reckless, gambling, keeping her dead—and they aren't new accusations. She has heard them before from different mouths in different crises, and each time something inside her has tightened rather than yielded, still not believing she was in the wrong.
"I don’t think that’s true," she says gently when he insists it isn’t worth it, her fingers tightening around his as if she can thread conviction directly into his bones. "And it wasn’t reckless." She inhales slowly, steadying herself before continuing. "If we’re accounting for every far-fetched thing he might do, then we also have to account for what he might do if we hadn’t made this deal." Her brows lift as she begins to list them, the names coming without hesitation. "Enzo, Mateo, my parent's new baby, Sohalia, Melita, Koa, Noe. Your family." The words hang heavy, not as threats but as realities she refuses to ignore. She leans forward, tangling herself against him again, pressing her forehead briefly to his chest before looking up. "My life isn’t worth all of theirs." She sees the protest forming and shakes her head quickly. "I know you hate hearing that. But it’s true."
Her voice softens, but her resolve does not. "This is all my fault for telling you in the first place when I promised Jack that I wouldn't, so it's on me to fix." She swallows, feeling the steel return to her spine as she answers his practical fear. "Yeah, the deal’s off if he breaks his side. And no, he doesn’t just lose his feather. If he breaks it, I’ll make sure he loses his life." Her aqua eyes sharpen, not reckless but calculated. "Even if that means dying three times so Ronin burns through every last resurrection on me so there’s nothing left for him."
There is no shaky adrenaline in her now, only a quiet, burning determination that feels almost frightening in its clarity. "Jack doesn’t get to win this," she says, gaze locking onto his with a steadiness that does not waver. "We do." Her thumb brushes over the dark star on his finger as if to remind him what it signifies. "And if you want extra assurance, we can go to Frey. We can bind our mouths shut magically if that’s what it takes. But this? This keeps everyone safe. And I would make that choice again."
real big things I still gotta figure out
