I'd burn my house down just to hear them scream my name
Flora has decided that if the Hanged Man is going to rise from its own ashes, then it is absolutely going to do so with better wood, better stone, better sightlines, and significantly fewer opportunities for anyone with the last name Barclay-adjacent-by-divine-technicality to turn the place into kindling.
The old footprint of the bar stretches out around her in half-marked lines and stacked supplies, with fresh timber from the Gilded Market piled neatly beneath canvas coverings, crates of hardware and tools tucked out of the way, and Torchline’s soldiers already moving through the site with the useful sort of purpose that keeps Flora from having to pretend she knows the difference between one load-bearing beam and another. She knows what she wants, obviously. She knows exactly where the bar should go, how the windows should catch the sea breeze, which corner should have enough shadow for secrets, and where the best table should sit so that whoever claims it can see every door and every mistake before it happens. The actual mechanics of making those preferences stand upright instead of collapsing into a very expensive pile of tropical optimism are, thankfully, someone else’s problem.
Because it’s Deepfrost, technically, fires burn in several large braziers around the site, their heat shimmering upward in lazy gold veils despite the warm Torchline air, and Flora has already made three different soldiers move one of them closer to where Dantalion and Kiada will probably end up standing when they arrive. It’s not cold, but Flora has no intention of rebuilding her bar only to have two of her helpers turn into tasteful decorative statues before lunch.
She stands with Kaisel near what used to be the main entrance in fitted jeans, a sweater pushed up at the sleeves, and her blonde curls pulled into a ponytail that has already begun to lose its fight against the humidity. "I can’t believe it’s been a year," Flora says, looking out over the marked foundation with her head tilted. "Like, somehow it feels way longer than that, because I swear I’ve lived at least six entire lives since then." Her lips twist with the kind of smile that doesn’t quite decide whether it wants to be funny or sharp, and so it becomes both, bright at the edges and not remotely soft in the middle.
PQ+ To rebuild the Hanged Man!
Flora
Kaisel
Dantalion
Kiada
The old footprint of the bar stretches out around her in half-marked lines and stacked supplies, with fresh timber from the Gilded Market piled neatly beneath canvas coverings, crates of hardware and tools tucked out of the way, and Torchline’s soldiers already moving through the site with the useful sort of purpose that keeps Flora from having to pretend she knows the difference between one load-bearing beam and another. She knows what she wants, obviously. She knows exactly where the bar should go, how the windows should catch the sea breeze, which corner should have enough shadow for secrets, and where the best table should sit so that whoever claims it can see every door and every mistake before it happens. The actual mechanics of making those preferences stand upright instead of collapsing into a very expensive pile of tropical optimism are, thankfully, someone else’s problem.
Because it’s Deepfrost, technically, fires burn in several large braziers around the site, their heat shimmering upward in lazy gold veils despite the warm Torchline air, and Flora has already made three different soldiers move one of them closer to where Dantalion and Kiada will probably end up standing when they arrive. It’s not cold, but Flora has no intention of rebuilding her bar only to have two of her helpers turn into tasteful decorative statues before lunch.
She stands with Kaisel near what used to be the main entrance in fitted jeans, a sweater pushed up at the sleeves, and her blonde curls pulled into a ponytail that has already begun to lose its fight against the humidity. "I can’t believe it’s been a year," Flora says, looking out over the marked foundation with her head tilted. "Like, somehow it feels way longer than that, because I swear I’ve lived at least six entire lives since then." Her lips twist with the kind of smile that doesn’t quite decide whether it wants to be funny or sharp, and so it becomes both, bright at the edges and not remotely soft in the middle.
PQ+ To rebuild the Hanged Man!
Flora
Kaisel
Dantalion
Kiada
I've carried hopes & heavy day dreams, but i'm all done with sleepin'
