[Training] how it's done

& if you never bleed you're never gonna grow

Flora’s smile tips soft, understanding glimmering in her aqua eyes as she nods. "That’s the thing about muscle memory," she says, twirling her dagger once. "Your body changes, so the memory changes too. Boobs, shoulders, growth—it all shifts how the throw feels. Doesn’t mean you’ve lost it, just means the memory needs refreshing. That’s why it never really goes away." Her grin brightens, bracelets chiming as she lifts her hand in a little flourish. "And for what it’s worth, I’m always up for dagger training. Anytime you want to throw things, call me."

The suggestion about Remi earns a laugh, light and unbothered, as Flora shrugs. "Oh, he probably does feel it," she admits. "But his whole thing with Mort these days is soaking up everyone else’s pain, so it’s kind of...his job." She leans in conspiratorially then, curls spilling forward, voice dropping to a mock whisper. "Between you and me? I think he might even be into it now." Straightening again, she wrinkles her nose.

Her daggers vanish neatly back to their hidden places as she tips her head toward the sea where another isle is already drifting closer. "How’d you end up here anyway? You want a lift back on the Sugartide when you’re done bruising palm trees?"

flowers bloom in the rain

The isle breathes under our feet, sand sighing away from one edge while another ribbon of shore sidles closer. I roll my shoulders, feel every place that’s gone soft since aging, and huff a laugh at myself.

”I definitely need the practice,” I admit, wry. ”And to harden up the spots that got… softer with growing.” My mouth quirks. ”Maybe we run together sometime? If you don’t mind me intruding once in a while.”

Her joke about Remi makes me wrinkle my nose, a little giggle slipping out despite myself. ”Okay, if he’s into it, maybe I shouldn’t, you know, enable,” I say, amused and faintly horrified. ”But he does sound like a great sparring partner. I owe Ronin a visit too. I really want to get to know them both better.” I glance back at Flora, warm. ”You should meet Ashe sometime. I think you two would have fun throwing knives until the neighbors complain.”

The islands knit and unknit around us, the palm whispering as it leans with the drift. I sweep hair back from my face and watch the water glint through the gaps. ”I was just… wandering Torchline, mostly. Getting lost on purpose. If I stay busy out here, I have to pay attention—less room for the bullshit to creep in.” My jaw tightens as the old reel tries to play—collapsing mountains, the bite of unforgiving cold in my fingers—and I swallow it with a lopsided smile. ”Everyone’s dealing with something, right?” I say lightly, eyes on the horizon.

Then I brighten, the thought catching like sun on steel. ”A lift on the Sugartide would be amazing. I’ve been dying to see her anyway.”

Theea

growing up is a pain

& if you never bleed you're never gonna grow

Flora nods without hesitation, curls spilling forward as she tips her head toward her cousin. "I’m usually out first thing in the morning before the sun gets too bossy, but with Deepfrost creeping in we can run anytime. Sand’ll be a pain in the ass at first—literally—but once you get used to it, there’s nothing better. If you ever have to race someone across the beach, you’ll leave them gasping in your dust and it's the best feeling." Her grin is wicked and bright, all teeth and sunlight.

"Up to you if you want to stab my dad or not," she teases, aqua eyes gleaming. The joke fades softer at the mention of Ashe, her smile gentling into something warm. "Didn’t get to meet her at my parents’ anniversary, but I heard she was there. Next time you see her, tell her I’d absolutely love to. Knives, neighbours complaining—sounds perfect."

Theea’s next words earn a dry huff of laughter, Flora’s expression flashing sympathetic and crooked all at once. "Same, babes," she says, tone light but edged with shared truth. "If you ever need a swim or a drink just to bitch about it, I’m always game." She bumps her shoulder lightly against her cousin’s before nodding back toward the way she’d come, the hint of salt-sweet breeze carrying from the direction of the sea.

"Absolutely," she says with bright finality, and with that she turns, curls and gold glinting as she leads the way through the foliage toward the waiting Sugartide.

~FIN