flora
Flora nods slowly. "If he has, that'll narrow things down." Her thoughts begin sorting through the possibilities almost immediately. Ancients are unlikely to be wandering Halo-adjacent waters under ordinary circumstances, which leaves an Abandoned with fire magic capable of using the bonfire. There are still plenty of those, certainly, but it’s a much smaller pool than anyone who might have crossed Halo’s borders by conventional means. "...Anyone else you think I should ask?"
She hums her agreement as Jack considers what displaced pirates might turn to instead, relieved that he doesn’t immediately lay the consequences at her feet. At the mention of the Oerwoud, her brows rise. "Yeah, and whatever the fuck is going on in there as well," she mutters, her thoughts flickering briefly towards bags of sand and the pair of glowing antlers still occupying her dining room. "Remi and Ronin patrol often, and they’ve never found anything." Whether that makes the rumours less credible or only adds another layer to whatever is happening, Flora can’t decide. She gives a small shrug and glances at Jack, both of them aware that neither the Bastion nor the Knight is especially suited to tracking ships.
His easy assurance that he’ll straighten out the Cant in the Fingers softens the guarded thickets of Flora’s thoughts before she can stop it. There’s something reassuring in the casual certainty of it, though she doesn’t thank him, unwilling to make it seem as though any of this is being done for her, but she inclines her head in quiet appreciation all the same.
She hums her agreement as Jack considers what displaced pirates might turn to instead, relieved that he doesn’t immediately lay the consequences at her feet. At the mention of the Oerwoud, her brows rise. "Yeah, and whatever the fuck is going on in there as well," she mutters, her thoughts flickering briefly towards bags of sand and the pair of glowing antlers still occupying her dining room. "Remi and Ronin patrol often, and they’ve never found anything." Whether that makes the rumours less credible or only adds another layer to whatever is happening, Flora can’t decide. She gives a small shrug and glances at Jack, both of them aware that neither the Bastion nor the Knight is especially suited to tracking ships.
His easy assurance that he’ll straighten out the Cant in the Fingers softens the guarded thickets of Flora’s thoughts before she can stop it. There’s something reassuring in the casual certainty of it, though she doesn’t thank him, unwilling to make it seem as though any of this is being done for her, but she inclines her head in quiet appreciation all the same.
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?
