flora
Jack will find barren confusion in the gardens of Flora’s thoughts, every path ending abruptly against the same question of what, precisely, he means. Of all the men in Caido, though, she knows better than to expect an explanation of how he feels from Jack, so she lets the mystery wither where it stands and gives a bright, disbelieving laugh instead. "Oh, and who would I send? The White Fucking Knight?" Her brows rise sharply. "Remi and Ronin have already done what they could to keep the violence down, but the rest of it..."
Her aqua gaze returns to him, her frustration now aimed somewhere beyond the man across from her. "Of course people have tried, but think about who you left behind." She lifts a brow, and something darkens protectively within the thicket of her thoughts, shading memories of grasping hands and would-be successors who’d mistaken vacancy for opportunity. "Some of them managed for a while, but...none of them were you." The word gleams with a hesitant, gilded praise, though none of it has anything to do with whatever feelings she does or doesn’t still harbour for him. It is simply the truth of Jack’s infamy, the sort built from more than coin, violence, or reputation alone. As for why she hadn’t taken the undercity herself, Flora only rolls her eyes and turns towards the rain-darkened window with a quiet frown. Once, had she remained beside him, she might have learned to rule that part of Torchline too. She might even have gone rogue entirely, but they both know that when Jack sailed away, she hadn’t yet been capable of replacing him. Still wasn't.
His next words land exactly where they’re meant to, and Flora flinches without wasting the effort it would take to hide it. Her thoughts snag on what sort of temperament the gods had given The Ark, and what it must mean for her to remember every step Flora had taken across her deck and everything else besides. Every promise of forever, every time Jack and Flora had believed themselves inevitable. The implications leave a cold trail beneath her skin, and when she speaks, her mouth has gone suddenly dry. "Well, I’m sure she knows all the right things to say and do to make you happy, then." Having learned from Flora's mistakes as well as her providence as Jack's favourite thing.
Jack’s reaction to the memory isn’t approval, but it isn’t dismissal either, and Flora imperceptibly straightens as he does, her attention sharpening around the shift. "There are stories that she anchors in the middle of the floating isles and moves with them so that no one can accidentally collide with her. Others say ships can sail straight through her anyway." Flora gives a small shrug, keeping her gaze on him. "No one knows how much of it is true, only that the Blackfox doesn’t think she can be taken down through ordinary means Maybe the caches are connected and maybe they aren’t, but it seems like more than a coincidence." Her fingers settle lightly against the table as she recalls the details. None of them looked disturbed: No broken locks, no signs they’d been opened, nothing to suggest anyone had touched them at all, and yet they were empty.
Her aqua gaze returns to him, her frustration now aimed somewhere beyond the man across from her. "Of course people have tried, but think about who you left behind." She lifts a brow, and something darkens protectively within the thicket of her thoughts, shading memories of grasping hands and would-be successors who’d mistaken vacancy for opportunity. "Some of them managed for a while, but...none of them were you." The word gleams with a hesitant, gilded praise, though none of it has anything to do with whatever feelings she does or doesn’t still harbour for him. It is simply the truth of Jack’s infamy, the sort built from more than coin, violence, or reputation alone. As for why she hadn’t taken the undercity herself, Flora only rolls her eyes and turns towards the rain-darkened window with a quiet frown. Once, had she remained beside him, she might have learned to rule that part of Torchline too. She might even have gone rogue entirely, but they both know that when Jack sailed away, she hadn’t yet been capable of replacing him. Still wasn't.
His next words land exactly where they’re meant to, and Flora flinches without wasting the effort it would take to hide it. Her thoughts snag on what sort of temperament the gods had given The Ark, and what it must mean for her to remember every step Flora had taken across her deck and everything else besides. Every promise of forever, every time Jack and Flora had believed themselves inevitable. The implications leave a cold trail beneath her skin, and when she speaks, her mouth has gone suddenly dry. "Well, I’m sure she knows all the right things to say and do to make you happy, then." Having learned from Flora's mistakes as well as her providence as Jack's favourite thing.
Jack’s reaction to the memory isn’t approval, but it isn’t dismissal either, and Flora imperceptibly straightens as he does, her attention sharpening around the shift. "There are stories that she anchors in the middle of the floating isles and moves with them so that no one can accidentally collide with her. Others say ships can sail straight through her anyway." Flora gives a small shrug, keeping her gaze on him. "No one knows how much of it is true, only that the Blackfox doesn’t think she can be taken down through ordinary means Maybe the caches are connected and maybe they aren’t, but it seems like more than a coincidence." Her fingers settle lightly against the table as she recalls the details. None of them looked disturbed: No broken locks, no signs they’d been opened, nothing to suggest anyone had touched them at all, and yet they were empty.
How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22?
Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?
