is this the end of all the endings?
Flora isn’t expecting Kaisel’s reaction, not here, not from them, because Kai had caught her joy like a spark in dry summer grass and turned the whole room gold with it, and Remi and Ronin have lived too long beneath too many divine shadows for her to imagine they’d leap up and start cheering just because Safrin’s hand has closed bright and permanent around her life. Still, there’s a difference between not cheering and the colour slipping out of Ronin’s face while Remi goes still beside the bassinet, and disappointment pricks through her before she can pretty it up into something easier to swallow, small and sharp as a thorn hidden beneath a glossy leaf.
She glances down at her pie first, because pastry is a much safer place to put her eyes than either of their faces, and then she looks pointedly at Ronin, one brow lifting with bright, brittle precision. "Well, nothing wrong with your ears."
Her fork taps lightly against the plate, engagement ring flashing as she shifts where she sits, and the tiny sleeping shapes of Carlo and Calan keep her voice low even as her expression goes dramatically wounded. Rolling her eyes, she sits up a little straighter and lifts one hand as if conducting an imaginary chorus of supportive fathers. "Wow, Flora, congratulations," she says, pitching her voice into a parody of their accents that is less cruel than it is obviously armoured, all glitter and deflection over the sting beneath. "Do you have any fun new powers? Can’t wait to have you at the demigod meetings. We’re so proud of you."
The performance cracks at the edges almost as soon as it lands, not enough to fall apart but enough that her mouth presses briefly to one side. "I mean, I know it’s Safrin, and I know everyone has their own whole complicated thing with her, which is super fair," she adds, quieter now but still too quick, still trying to keep the current moving so it can’t drag her under. "And I didn’t exactly come here thinking everyone would throw pie at the ceiling and sing about it, but maybe just a tiny bit less funeral face would be amazing, since, y'know, this is my life and not yours." And moreover, since she wasn't planning on having one of Safrin's babies and complicating her marriage about it.
She glances down at her pie first, because pastry is a much safer place to put her eyes than either of their faces, and then she looks pointedly at Ronin, one brow lifting with bright, brittle precision. "Well, nothing wrong with your ears."
Her fork taps lightly against the plate, engagement ring flashing as she shifts where she sits, and the tiny sleeping shapes of Carlo and Calan keep her voice low even as her expression goes dramatically wounded. Rolling her eyes, she sits up a little straighter and lifts one hand as if conducting an imaginary chorus of supportive fathers. "Wow, Flora, congratulations," she says, pitching her voice into a parody of their accents that is less cruel than it is obviously armoured, all glitter and deflection over the sting beneath. "Do you have any fun new powers? Can’t wait to have you at the demigod meetings. We’re so proud of you."
The performance cracks at the edges almost as soon as it lands, not enough to fall apart but enough that her mouth presses briefly to one side. "I mean, I know it’s Safrin, and I know everyone has their own whole complicated thing with her, which is super fair," she adds, quieter now but still too quick, still trying to keep the current moving so it can’t drag her under. "And I didn’t exactly come here thinking everyone would throw pie at the ceiling and sing about it, but maybe just a tiny bit less funeral face would be amazing, since, y'know, this is my life and not yours." And moreover, since she wasn't planning on having one of Safrin's babies and complicating her marriage about it.
my broken bones are mending
