head full of heart

flora

Flora entwines her fingers with Enzo ’s, their footsteps scattering sand like pale, drifting stardust while the surf hums its quiet applause beneath the music farther up the beach. When the murmur of onlookers fades enough that only hel cries and jasmine perfume remain, she releases his hand only to whirl in a silken arc before him, the living garden of her gown flowering outward in a slow, moonlit spiral that paints violet shadows across his bare feet and the smooth tan of his ankles.

The sight of him steals her breath in the gentlest way—that familiar tilt of his brows, the mischievous gleam that kindles green fire in eyes more vivid than any bottle glass, the wind—teased curls tumbling across his brow in an echo of the boy she raced through Greatwood treetops with and the young man she mourned in quiet seasons after moss‑cooled dusk. Rising onto the balls of her feet, she cups his jaw and drifts soft, lingering kisses along the curve of each cheek, feather‑light benedictions that tremble with joy beneath the lantern glow.

"You would not believe the circus this year has been without you," she murmurs against his skin, her lips curving with laughter that glitters like surf in starlight yet carries an old ache beneath its sparkle. "The Family, Jack dumping me, nearly dying again, being friendzoned by some boy—utterly ridiculous, and all missing your commentary." She draws back only far enough to let their gazes meet, her thumbs brushing along the faint dimple that threatens whenever mischief stirs in him. "But, I’m closer than ever to bringing you back for good, so you can experience all the nonsense first hand."

you'r under the feeling like teenagers in cars
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Enzo

Mateo seems to take his challenge as a springboard, and Enzo laughs when he spots the tall drink of water he seems intent on sticking the landing in. He calls good luck after his brother-from-another, though whether he hears it - or needs it - is lost from his mind immediately as Flora drags him away by the hand. 

The ocean is a murmuring companion when all others fade away, encircling them as it once did in the time-before days. When she releases his hand to twirl in front of him he can’t manage to whistle or croon - only drink her in, breathing in the jasmine and salt and torch-smoke. Not unlike how the air had smelled through the open windows of their shared apartment. 

He dips his face into the cup of her palm as she kisses up his cheek, eyes half-lidded but incapable of looking away as he nuzzles into her touch. He can smell the dabs of perfume she’d put on her wrist; it’s new, not the notes he remembers. It suits her, but the reminder of what he’s missed - even this tiny things - still makes him ache a little. A hurt that is only assuaged by the fact he has her now. His fingers intertwine at the small of her back in a comfortable loop, but the strength in his hands could be iron for how hard he’s really holding on. 

The shape of her smile on his skin is mirrored by the harsh cut of a frown that his lips twist into. “If he can be called a boy then he didn’t deserve you anyway. You don’t deserve childishness, you’re not a babysitter you’re a babe.” Scoffing, he tosses his curls out of his eyes and can only manage a smile when she pulls away and he can see her again. It’s impossible not to. “You sure we can’t speed up the returns process by having Jack-Off take my place?” He wiggles his eyebrows enticingly, the dimples under her fingertips deepening by the moment. Still, they smooth over too fast as his eyes close, brow wrinkling as he tilts his face forward into her hands, further in her orbit. 

“I know we’ve said no excessive boo-hooing whenever I get to visit but - fuck, Flora, it’s hard to know nobody is looking out for you just because I had to go and get myself dead.” His seaglass-green eyes go lined at the edges, the tiniest betrayal of his strain. He can’t even say he was killed, no time to be valiant, just here and gone between breaths. And look where that got her - so beaten down by life that he is stuck waiting on the next visit, only to see her in more and more pieces when he does. It’s torture.

whether death or distance comes between
there comes a time when everybody leaves

flora

Flora’s laughter spills free, bright and sweet like bubbles rising in a flute of champagne, and she melts dramatically against Enzo’s side, tipping her chin to fix him with a look that's all affectionate exasperation. "Okay, fiiiiiiiiiiine," she concedes, her voice teasingly petulant as she pokes a playful finger into his chest. "Maybe he was more boy than man—but gods, Enzo, he always made me laugh. And he was, like, really, really good." Her brows arch meaningfully, lips quirking into a smirk full of mischief and just a hint of lingering disappointment. "Not that it matters now, since he chose the girl who took over the Hanged Man—which honestly feels a little personal, even if it isn't, y'know?"

Jack's name earns a roll of her eyes so exaggerated it's a wonder she doesn't fall right into the sand. "You're absolutely right about Jack," she huffs, unable to keep her mouth from twitching upward at the corners despite herself. "Next time he kicks the bucket, I'm definitely leaving him dead." She pauses, then wrinkles her nose, fully aware she isn't fooling either of them, but enjoying the petty illusion anyway.

Her smile softens, quiets, and Flora nestles deeper into her twin's embrace, her arm looping around his waist as though holding tight enough could keep him permanently anchored. "It isn't even that no one's looking out for me," she murmurs, leaning her head comfortably against his shoulder. "They do, but it's either all these careful worried glances, like I’m seconds from falling apart—or they act like I’m some unstoppable goddess who can brush off anything, like getting dumped or nearly murdered is just another Tuesday." Her lips twist ruefully as she lifts her eyes back to Enzo.

She tilts her head, pressing her cheek to his shoulder so she can look up at him, her smile small and wistful, brightening slowly into something warmer as her eyes meet his. "You’re the only one who’s ever just...real with me. You never treat me like glass or steel or some delicate little flower." Her smile deepens into something more genuine, more fiercely affectionate. "And gods, I need that. Promise me you’ll keep being my one-person reality check when you’re back for good, okay? Someone has to keep me humble." Grinning, she wrinkles her nose up at him before her eyes flutter wide, a clear indication of having thought of something.

"Actually, I could use some twinly advice?"

you'r under the feeling like teenagers in cars
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Enzo

He grins again in a breath, even if the twisting feeling lingers. The bubbles of her laughter buoy him up alongside her, always keeping pace with her. “When are you gonna learn you need really, really good and a touch of maturity? If they don’t meet the job requirements they don’t interview, duh!” He rolls his eyes so hard the torchlights blur together for a moment until he instinctively finds the summer-blue of her eyes. His own personal piece of stolen sky. He slides a hand off her back to pinch her hip, narrowing his own eyes at her. “I’d say you should know better as a businesswoman, but clearly you’re out of the game and already rusty if you’re losing talent to your upstart usurper.“ Does he know who the new owner is? Obviously no, but she’s no Flora, so. “Honestly! I leave you alone for a year and suddenly you’re performing charity left and right! The exact thing I told you not to do last time, dummy.” She’s not keen on listening to people but he’s her twin damn it. His entire job is knowing better - or at least knowing her, which is why he cocks a wry brow at her blatant lie about Jack. She wants harsh truth? Well, he’s giving it in advance of her verbal authorization; forgiveness, not permission, all that good stuff. 

His hand rises to cup the back of her head as she rests against his chest, idly curling and stroking through the soft, styled waves she’d perfected for the night. As perfect as so many people think she really is - which is why Enzo is intent on messing it up, because he likes the reality a hell of a lot better than the empty mirage. “That’s what I mean by actually taking care of you. Having people who know you well enough to know that you’re both. Anything less and half of your friend-ly lackeys will beg you to be on the front lines, and half will try to shut you away in a tower.” Both of which will just end up with her right back here in his arms, half-shredded gold vellum that he doesn’t have nearly enough time to fully or properly repair. 

But how can he not try when the shadow of his shoulder paints her gold and purple, her eyes turned into oceanic shades that drown him when she looks up at him? Even though he’s dead Enzo feels like he can reverse the ocean’s tides when his twin smiles at him like there’s nobody else in the world. And why should there be? 

“Why wait? I’ll reality check you at whatever dad’s current frequency is - like therapy appointments that you definitely don’t need.” His grin is so wide and cheeky that his dimples paint dark shadows on his cheeks reminiscent of a laughing skull in the dying light. The hand that pinched her hip snakes out to bop one fingertip against the very end of her nose. “But yes, I promise. Now quit with the foreplay, set the scene for me. I need to be judge and jury.” He doesn’t have enough time on the clock to be executioner unfortunately.

whether death or distance comes between
there comes a time when everybody leaves

Come play!

In the wind you hear voices. It sounds like children playing some kind of game with laughter and mischief. Then one screams. There’s a call for ‘Mom!’ ‘Papa!’ and other adults as the laughter stops. Glancing towards the direction of the commotion, you’ll see fins cutting the water. A pack of echo sharks lurks, ready to leap up and grab any who fall for their trap.

---

You’ve encountered a pack of echo sharks. This counts as a common creature encounter for the purposes of levelling, but does not count as a Random Event for levelling or MP. There will be no further admin/re intervention. If you choose to follow this creature, you do so at your own risk, however, just having it in this thread is enough to satisfy your levelling requirements.

Echo Shark (common) - A dwarf species of shark known for hunting in packs, the Echo Shark can live in both freshwater and saltwater. They are able to mimic any sound they’ve heard and band together to increase their range of vocals. The sharks use the words and sounds they’ve learned to lure unsuspecting prey into the water, where the sharks will then leap up and drag them into the waves.

flora

Flora’s huff is softened by an affectionate smile, her eyes sparkling as she gives Enzo’s chest an overly dramatic, but decidedly gentle shove. "I mean, you’re not wrong," she concedes airily, wrinkling her nose as if reluctant to admit he’s got a point, even as she melts closer, "but honestly, I’ll take a bit of boyish charm over someone too jaded to laugh at my jokes any day. And let’s face it—it’s way easier to help someone mature a bit than to teach them how to actually be a decent person."

When he pinches her hip, she squawks indignantly, a loud, outraged sound that carries just enough playful exaggeration to cover the sounds of the nearby echo sharks. Squirming dramatically in her brother’s grip, Flora stretches up to press both palms to his cheeks, squishing his handsome face until his lips purse ridiculously beneath her fingers. "Rude," she pouts, even though it’s impossible to truly sound upset, especially with her eyes crinkling in delight at the sight of his squished mouth. But he’s painfully correct about Jack, as always, and so Flora releases him with a guilty sigh, leaning in conspiratorially. "You wanna know the absolute worst thing about it, though?" Her voice drops into a scandalized whisper, blue eyes round with playful horror. "The ‘upstart usurper’—aka the girl The Boy picked—is actually Jack’s daughter. Which, fml, but also, kind of checks out because this is Caido, oh and she's the daughter of a goddess." She grimaces theatrically.

Sighing, she leans into his touch as his fingers muss her carefully styled curls, softening a little beneath his quiet affection. "The closest person to actually knowing me other than you of course—like really knowing me—was The Boy," Which is apparently what they were calling Kaisel now. "And because I clearly never learn my lesson, we slept together, said nothing would change, but of course it totally did. Just, y'know, only for me. Cue the laugh track, roll credits, story of my love life."

Snapping her teeth affectionately after his fingertip bops her nose, Flora’s expression shifts into something more thoughtful, though still edged with humour as she dives straight into laying out her dilemma. "Alright, Judge Enzo," she drawls, looping her arm around his waist again, pressing close as though that simple touch will anchor him to her world for good. "So, I had to leave Haulani because of the Family nonsense, and I asked Caly—you know, the new Hanged Man owner and winner of The Boy's heart—to take over running things temporarily.

Except the Family situation lasted like a hot second, and suddenly the triplets—yeah, Enzo, triplets, because twins are obviously so last season—had redecorated, renamed drinks, the whole shebang. So now I feel shady as fuck demanding it back, and a little guilty, too, because when I couldn’t be queen at first, that bar was everything for me. It gave me something to build, something that was mine." Her gaze softens, sympathetic and genuine despite the layers of sass. "Maybe they need it now, like I did."

Her shoulders lift in an exaggerated shrug, expression sheepish and self-aware as she peers up into his familiar eyes. "Plus, four behind that bar sounds like a crowd, and we both know I'm terrible at sharing. I mean, maybe I really don’t need it, maybe I can focus on just being queen—" But Flora’s voice trails off, her eyes rolling again as she laughs softly, gently self-mocking as she finds the mirrored seaglass of Enzo's gaze and tries to drown herself in it.

"Cause if I take it back now, it's just gonna look like I'm being a petty, jealous bitch about the whole Kaisel thing." Err, The Boy.

you'r under the feeling like teenagers in cars
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Enzo

“Or just do some basic math babe, 80% puppy in the window and 20% knows how to cook and clean and pay bills. Mature doesn’t have to mean jaded.” He looks her up and down, eyes raking in feigned mimicry of how he so often used to do right before shredding someone verbally. “Though if that’s how you’re defining it, I don’t know how we can save you. Your personal essay is so jaded at this point you could sell it at the docks with the other fake gems.”

When she then smashes his face into the shape of an anaphylactic puffer fish’s kisser, Enzo can only think yeah, fair. But he obnoxiously peels his lips back to look even more ridiculous while clacking his teeth with the little leverage he has, going mlah, mlem, mlooooh. The last being ‘no’ of course because he doesn’t deserve this treatment after three seconds of fair punishment.

Upon release he pouts fiercely. “Don’t damage the goods! It’s all I’ve got in the afterlife!” They don’t even get their own magic. Well, that he can remember. 

There’s surprisingly no sour twist in his stomach at the idea of Mystery Boy coming close to truly knowing her. It’s what he wants for her, sincerely, and though Enzo is a shamelessly selfish man he is also overly confident - especially when it comes to his place in Flora’s heart. Which is above any and all others, obviously. It’s why he intends on banning her from giving him nephews or nieces. 

With his hands in her hair and her head on his chest as she spills her heart out like dice on a table, it would be easy to trick himself into thinking nothing ever changed. If he had his bed beneath his back they could be transported back in time to when this was a nightly routine. Sometimes she would fall asleep, sometimes Enzo - until she would pinch him awake and whine over him ignoring her. He can’t believe he ever did back then. Now, he hangs on every word and tries to memorize the way shadow falls on her cheeks in the shape of her lashes every time she blinks. 

“But do you need it again?” The bar and all the power, purpose, and creativity it gives her. Because what if it isn’t ‘gives’ anymore, but ‘gave’? Risking trying to fit into a safe, comfortable old shape only to find she’d changed too much - with or without her consent - to go back? But for all she’d asked for his brutal honesty Enzo won’t say that. Sometimes it hurts too much to admit you changed when you didn’t want to. Sometimes instead he poses it as a question; “And do you think it will feel the same if you take it back? Regardless of who and how and why it might be free for you to run again.” Which means fuck how they might feel, how would you feel? “Given one of them is literally your messy ex’s kid - which, don’t get it twisted Flora we’re not old news, they copied us with the whole aging straight into the sexy-age-bracket thing - I’m gonna give a fat Fuck No on the working with them thing personally.” He wrinkles his nose to really drive the point home because if he pinches her again she might cave in his chest next time with all the poking and pushing. 

The fingers in her hair catch and pull gently to grab attention he already has. “You ran it when you couldn’t be queen. But you are now. And yeah you’re a bit lost but guess what? Shady or not, you have the power to evict and dare I say exile them if you wanted. That’s also something you built - y’know, by being a kickass queen well before you had to take a little vacay.” He manfully doesn’t say the ‘duh’ out loud but its presence is felt.

Wrapping his arm tighter around her shoulders where she has readjusted against him, Enzo drops a kiss to her temple and lingers there to murmur nearer to her ear. “Don’t go to a safe place that you love so much every day just to see one lost love’s child be happy because she’s dating another lost love. You’ll never be able to step foot in there again by the end.” He kisses her temple again and hides his forlorn sigh in a soft gust of an exhale. “Put your own heart first this time. If things changed for you but not for him, then it’s definitely gonna hurt more than it’s gonna help.”

And in the background of it all Enzo files the two names away for that ‘someday soon’.

whether death or distance comes between
there comes a time when everybody leaves

flora

Flora opens her mouth, ready to launch into another volley of indignation and playful outrage, only to pause mid-breath as Enzo’s words sink slowly beneath her skin, settling there with uncomfortable accuracy. She stares at him, lips parting softly, her brows drawn into a thoughtful knot as she realizes—gods, has he been right this whole damn time? Has she let herself mistake good enough for genuinely good, just because she'd convinced herself the options were slim and dwindling? Had she, of all people, forgotten that choosing herself was still choosing, that settling didn’t somehow turn scraps into a feast?

A long, pained groan escapes her as she pitches forward again, her forehead pressing firmly to her twin’s chest, her shoulders slumping dramatically in defeat. "Ughhhh," she moans, voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt, "I really hate it when you're right. Like, do you even know how irritating it is? Being dead doesn't automatically give you superior wisdom," she grouses half-heartedly, though there's no heat behind the complaint—only affection, grudging acceptance, and maybe just a tiny hint of relief that at least someone still sees through her bullshit. "But...yeah," she admits softly, the words begrudging but honest. "I don’t actually need the bar. And gods, you're right again—I definitely don't want to work with the Marins and pretend we're all friends. I've only gone back there once so far, and Caly had the whole place feeling so frosty it was like she was staging her own personal Deepfrost. It sucked."

She pauses thoughtfully, lashes fluttering as she chews over her brother's advice. "Except," she sighs, reluctant to acknowledge this part aloud, "maybe it only felt so cold because I let myself think there was some stupid competition." Her eyes narrow briefly, and then widen in surprise as clarity sinks in. "And fuck—there isn't. There literally isn't. I'm the actual queen here, Enzo. What the fuck am I competing for?" Flora blinks, expression caught between exasperation at herself and delight in the newfound revelation. "Definitely not for the approval of Jack's daughter." Which, y'know, no offense to Caly who Flora normally quite liked.

With a gentle sigh, the queen pulls back slightly, her gaze softening as she affectionately traces the familiar lines of Enzo's face—the scatter of freckles, the curl of his lashes, the familiar curve of his smile that haunts her memory in every quiet moment. "Honestly?" she murmurs quietly, voice dropping to something tender and raw, reserved only for him. "I feel...kind of lost. Like, I moved out of our old house in Haulani, built myself the cutest little skyship to wait out the chaos, and now that I can go back—now that it’s safe—part of me doesn't even want to, which is crazy, because living on a boat is ridiculously hard, but...our house just...it feels like a place I left." Not that she'd ever actually leave the house she and her twin had moved into together when they'd first come to the city, but certainly now it felt haunted by the ghost of the girl she used to be.

"Like ,the Family’s gone, the city’s calm again, and I’m supposed to just slot back into everything like nothing happened. But everything did happen. And now I don’t know where I’m supposed to be." Her voice softens as she leans her head against his shoulder again, curls brushing his jaw. "It’s easy to be queen when there’s a threat. When you’re fighting for your home, for your people, for something. But now? Now it’s parades and paperwork and pretending I don’t mind showing up to events alone. I’m not even sure if the loneliness is new, or if I’ve just stopped pretending it isn’t there."

There’s a pause, one filled with the hush of waves and torchlight flicker, before she tips her head up again, catching his gaze with a little smile that’s too tired to be coy. "So. Be dead-wise and all-knowing and tell me what to do, Judge Enzo. Because all I want—besides bribing Mort to get you back permanently—is to not feel like I gave up pieces of myself to save Torchline and ended up with nothing but empty hands and a really cute ship."

She exhales, the sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, and gently tugs on one of his curls. "Fix it, brother mine. Or at least tell me what you'd do. Because right now I’d kill for a dumb plan and a matching disguise and someone to sneak out at midnight with."

you'r under the feeling like teenagers in cars
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Enzo

He’s there to catch her when she folds into him, melting and wilting like the fragrant blooms strung artfully across her skin. Despite the way she presses her face into his chest he can hear her clear as a ringing bell, and the laughter that rumble-shakes through his ribs will be just as all-encompassing with where he keeps her cradled. “It does actually, but Mort only grants it after you complete your first season trial. No perks for temporary visitors like you.” 

It’s a good thing she’s processing out loud, because Enzo has to chew back the rather spiteful words that spawn at the idea of this Caly person icing out Flora after winning every conceivable hand out from under his twin. Not that he tempers his response much further by time she pulls away. “Exactly, doll. The power she thinks she has to ice you out with is power you gave her. And Kaisel is clearly just a matter of poor taste on his behalf - and there’s no curing bad taste, you know that.” He eyes her with blatant mhmmm that sounds a lot like Jack, remember? 

Her words ramble and fluster like seafoam, and Enzo can only smile so softly his dimples never appear, lifting a hand to gently cup her cheek. “You’re not ‘supposed’ to do anything. I doubt anyone is telling you to pretend it didn’t happen. You’re the one doing that, ‘cuz you’re scared to show any flaws - and ‘cuz you don’t know who you are now either, so you think pretending you’re the old Flora is the only good answer.” He slips his hand from her cheek to curl her hair back behind her ear - and tugs it for good measure in the same way she had just done to his curls. “Which is why you just have to confidently own it. Like Sunjata and pops and their scars, or you and mom about me. You take the parts you’re willing to air out and you make ‘em loud and shameless - like moving house.” 

Both hands rise to cup just behind her jaw to lift her face up toward him, sea glass eyes brightly set in a sure, calm expression. “That’s where you’re gonna start. By Judge Enzo’s dead decree.” All he has time to plant is this one seed, and his hope alongside it; that after another year when he gets to see her again that it will have turned into something good. “Make a new home for me to come back to. Build it from the ground up, proper Estate style - no more sharing walls with strangers. Then, make it a place that’ll be for more than just us to gather, because we’ve grown past wanting more than just each other around.” Enzo dips to kiss right between her brows, then the tip of her nose, and then he shakes her face around again for good measure to make sure all the nonsense dust in her head doesn’t get a chance to settle back into the crevices he’s meant to fill. His heart aches; Enzo hasn’t had the chance to learn to want anyone else but her around, but he’s so proud of her for getting there first that he’s willing to let it die sourly in the space around his heart. “The Court is cool I guess, but it’s not your style dollface. I mean where do you even rule from? You haven’t even made yourself a throne! Flora! You made a boat before a throne!!! UGGGHH!!” He tilts his head back to gurgle-tell his disappointment before he has to lock back in. There’s still more cobwebs to dispel from his sister’s brain. “It’s fine, I’m fine. I’m not disappointed or confused.” He is, but the show must go on. “SO! Make a big plaza or admin building right in front of our new house, and - I dunno - put a pool with instant portals in every region so nobody has to wait on a skyboat to get drunk in a jacuzzi. I’m not the idea guy, I’m just the ‘here’s your homework’ guy.” Enzo grins and releases her for just long enough to grab both of her hands, clasp them as one between his own, and press them tenderly to Flora’s sternum. “Make it yours. Make it ours. Anything you can dream up. But if you want some inspiration, or a secondary challenge…” Enzo squeezes her hands gently before pulling away, leaving her clasped hands to rest against her own heart, painfully solitary. “Try to make it something that’s meant to fight the loneliness.” Until I can come home to you.

whether death or distance comes between
there comes a time when everybody leaves

flora

Flora laughs into the curve of Enzo’s chest, her arms still curled around his ribs, utterly and unshakably convinced—for this moment, at least—that he is right. That everything he’s said is true and clear and doable. The problem is that this clarity will be harder to hold onto later. When she’s brushing her teeth alone. When the night is too quiet and her mind too loud. When she finds herself wanting to confess too much to the wrong boy or crawl invisibly into the Ark just to feel the weight of a familiar arm slung over her waist. But that’s later. That’s not now.

Now she’s grinning against his heartbeat, warm and loud beneath her ear, and when he starts shaking her face around like he’s trying to rattle the nonsense out of her skull, she squeals and smacks her hands over his. "Enzo!" she laughs, voice half-horrified, half-adoring. "You really don't care about our old house?" Her words tumble between giggles, even as she beams up at him, radiant with the kind of affection that only ever belongs to him.

He mentions portals. A pool. A plaza. Her eyes widen in real time, hand pressed dramatically to her chest. "Oh my gods, we could build a balcony that overlooks the pool so you can dive straight into it! And like—a conservatory! And a glass house where Mateo can keep deadly plants, with a chaise lounge just for dramatic fainting!" Her imagination spins wildly as it always has, his suggestion becoming an entire fantasy within seconds.

When he brings her hand up and presses it to her chest, she closes her fingers around his without thinking, then lifts it so she can kiss his knuckles, gentle and reverent. "You say all this like you’re not going to help," she murmurs, quiet and certain. " 'Cause I'm absolutely going to make dad bring you back so you can help me pick the best plot of land and argue with me about what kind of tiles go best with mermaid motifs." Or, you know, steer her away from those sorts of gaudy choices.

But the shine in her eyes flickers just a bit at the mention of building something that’s meant to fight the loneliness. Because even now—with the scent of her twin still clinging to her and his laughter still echoing in her bones—she feels the shape of that absence pressing in, the cold left behind by every person she’s loved who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—stay. Jack. Kaisel. Her fingers curl slightly around Enzo’s as the thought hits, the ache catching her off guard. She hasn’t heard from the dragoon in...gods, how long? Long enough that the silence feels pointed. Long enough that she’s starting to think maybe he doesn’t intend to say anything at all, despite how suddenly she'd found him fitting into the shape of her everyday.

Flora swallows, nodding slowly. "Okay," she says at last, her voice quieter but still trying to carry the same hope he’s lit inside her. "I’ll try. I will. I’ll build something bright. Something loud. Something real and totally us." And if it had a rooftop dance floor and all those instant portals? So much the better.

you'r under the feeling like teenagers in cars
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Enzo

Enzo would - likely will - stay here on this beach until the sunlight forces him back into Mort’s arms just to be by her side a moment longer, keep that ache and cold further away from her for precious minutes. That she can, and surely will knowing his sister, bring him back is a privilege he has no business complaining over. Still he longs to never need to see the changes in her face between seasons he didn’t experience alongside her. And it will hurt, as it does now, to see the things that moved on without him - their house included. But it’s a hurt he’ll weather every day if he can only come back to her for good.

“Flora!” He mimics back at her on breathy, high-pitched tones that crack around his grinning teeth. “Our house has all those memories, I’ll always remember it and love it. But we made that place special because we were in it - and we’ll do the same for the new place.” Anywhere they go and anything they do will inherently be perfect by nature of their shared lives.

A shared life that feels so close within reach now, and it fills Enzo’s eyes with gleaming light as his smile stretches wider with every moment he can feel her heartbeat skipping faster under their intertwined fingers against her chest. “Not just a balcony, a springboard! We have a healing fountain, don’t wuss out!” They’ll just post up a sign waiving liability or something, the boring details can come later. 

She doesn’t let him pull too far away, and his grin melts into a tiny, contemplative smile. “You might already have built more than you think by the time I’m back, I’m just planning ahead.” The passage of time is meaningless in Mort’s halls, but he’s seen how much can happen between visits through the history of Flora’s life. “And the answer is shell pink. Like a conch shell - not blue or teal like anyone else will tell you.” His face twists into a dismissive, disgusted grimace. Pink is far superior to blue and he’ll hear nothing more about it.

The brightness dims but it will never fully dull. Enzo leans to press his forehead to hers, tip of his nose idly swaying against hers. “I believe in you, sis. And if it’s not done by time you bring me back then we’ll build it together - no boys allowed until opening day.” His laugh washes warm breath across both of their cheeks with how close he’s pressed. “Except family I guess. We have way too many guys in the family, it’s a crying shame.”

whether death or distance comes between
there comes a time when everybody leaves

flora

Flora gazes up at him, eyes wide and adoring, her heart doing that too-fast, too-full flutter it only ever reserves for her twin. It’s not just that he knows her—plenty of people think they do—but that he always cuts through all the noise, through every messy feeling knotted like seaweed in her chest, and just...clears it. Her mind had twisted itself in circles over the house, over what it meant to move on from it, and Enzo—of course Enzo—solves it in a single breath. Like it was never even complicated to begin with.

"You really are the smartest dead boy I know," she whispers against the space between his smile and the salt-warm press of his cheek. Her giggles bubble up like champagne as she pulls back enough to look at him properly, radiant with mischief and renewed delight. "Springboard it is. And secret bookshelves. And our rooms are gonna connect so we can bail on bad dates and pass snacks."

As he makes a face about colour theory, her nose wrinkles fondly in response, her expression turning all soft admiration. "You might not know everything,' she drawls, dragging out the word with faux-skepticism, "but you always know exactly what to say." Her fingers trace over his, still twined at her chest, as if to seal that truth in place.

Then her gaze steadies, brighter now but lined with something tender, fierce. "It’ll be done." She lifts his hand again, pressing another kiss to his knuckles like it’s a vow. "But I’m still gonna make Remi bring you back, because no one—no one—gets to go inside until you do. You’re the first guest, the first party, the first everything." Her voice cracks just a little at the end, but she covers it with a quick grin, her thumb brushing over his.

She lets the words hang between them for a moment, warm and full of promise, before a flicker of something else catches her attention out of the corner of her eye. Twisting in his arms just slightly, she lifts her chin and points toward the other side of the beach, where lanternlight catches on a dark crown of curls. "Oh, speaking off too many boys. See that girl over there? That’s Theea," she says, her voice light and proud as she leans in closer, like she’s revealing a particularly juicy family secret. "She’s our cousin on dad's side. She’s actually super cool, you’d like her." Or, will like her, she supposes.

you'r under the feeling like teenagers in cars
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Enzo

"You know other dead boys?" he whines, utterly wounded. He begins to slump abruptly in her arms, going deadweight (hah) to force her to either catch him in her impressively strong arms, or risk them both - or, at least Enzo - toppling into the sand. Mateo would have a cow over her dress getting fucked up though so he braces his knees at the very last second to avoid their brother's howling. Even Mort's halls won't protect Enzo from the decibel.

"Okay but we gotta have like a sitting room hopped up on ThirdEye too, because it's gross we can't sleep together all the time anymore." He straightens from his slump while affecting a moue of regal distaste that is hilariously out of place for the topic. "Hookups? Awesome. Missing out on creeping people out with platonic twin-sharing a bed 24/7? And also just general missing out on cuddle sessions? Not awesome." He'll surely end up crashing her bed until she locks down a non-shitbag partner, but if they have a whole separate bedroom for just that, he'll never have to threaten her future spouse with magical disembowelment. Win-win!

They ebb and flow between hilarity and earnestness as easily as the tide, and Enzo curls his knuckles upward to brush against her lips a moment longer when she kisses them. They don't need drawn out 'I love you' speeches to show the depth of their devotion. Her unstoppable dedication to returning him from the dead is a gesture greater than anyone else can lay claim to (at least in this way - Isla is a special case that only worked after their dad flubbed it). "I'll carry you over the threshold so we can do it together then. On my back though, can't go making your dating prospects even worse by maligning your purity." He grins like a shark, dragging her hand up to kiss her wrist as if it will spare him her indignity. Or raucous laughter. He'd prefer either of them to the crack in her voice that she hadn't covered well enough - sometimes humor can't bridge the gap, but Enzo knows when it can and when it can't with his sister. 

Speaking of sisters it seems, Enzo follows Flora's gaze with precision focus, accustomed to tracking her line of sight from any angle for picking out flirting targets and gossip sources. Only the latter this time unfortunately, cousins and all that. There better be improved dating prospects when Flora brings him back or Enzo is going to threaten to head straight back to Mort. "Well the women of our family are usually infinitely cooler so I'm not surprised. Have you snatched her up to live in Torchline yet?" That's clearly what ruling a region is meant for - building a family commune with some friends and suitors sprinkled in.

whether death or distance comes between
there comes a time when everybody leaves

flora

Flora gasps, scandalized, her eyes going wide as she peers up at her twin like he’s just accused her of treason. "Excuse me? I know loads of dead boys," she huffs, lifting her chin in mock arrogance. "You think you’re the only ghost currently haunting my life?" Her eyes sparkle with mischief, and just as she’s about to follow that up with something even more outrageous, Enzo goes boneless in her arms.

"Ugh—Enzo!" she groans, staggering back a half step as she scrambles to hold him up, her grip tightening instinctively around his ribs before she swats him hard across the shoulder. "You absolute menace. If you took us both down in front of Mateo? He’d string me up with ivy and scream about this dress for weeks." She eyes him suspiciously as he braces himself at the last second, and then flicks a bit of sand off his arm with the air of someone deeply wounded and dramatically inconvenienced.

But his talk of a ThirdEye-saturated sitting room gets a grin blooming across her face all over again. "Obviously we’re having one," she replies easily, as if it’s the most obvious design feature in the world. "And if anyone dares comment on us still sleeping in the same bed sometimes, we’ll just install a trapdoor and drop them straight into a dungeon. One with, like, bad upholstery and no acoustics for dramatic monologing."

She’s already reaching up to swat him again at the mention of her purity, but he’s quicker—grabbing her hand and kissing her wrist with that infuriatingly charming grin of his. The gesture is sweet enough to stay her slap, but not quite enough to spare him completely. She flicks his forehead anyway, a sharp little thwip that rings with affection. "Keep that up and I’ll be the one carrying you over the threshold," she mutters, tone somewhere between a threat and a promise. "Better start lifting halos or harps or whatever the dead use for gym weights."

But then she’s nudging him gently, shoulder pressed to his as the grin softens into something warmer. "Of course I’ve snatched her up," she says, rolling her eyes like it should be obvious. "ThoughMateo—gods, I think he’s actually gonna move back to Stormbreak. Like, willingly. Who gives up Torchline’s beaches for an overengineered floating city with zero oceans?" Her nose scrunches in mock dismay, though the fondness in her voice is impossible to miss.

you'r under the feeling like teenagers in cars
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!