you light the match to watch it blow

Flora

The skyships hover like oversized ornaments, all shine and swagger, dangling just above the white-sand shore as if they can’t decide whether to settle or soar. The Sugartide’s hull gleams in the winter sun, its outriggers creaking softly with the salt-wind, while the Firecracker bobs beside her like a stubborn spark refusing to go out.

Boots skidding on salt-dusted planks, Flora squints across the gap between the two vessels, a scrap of cloth into one hand, the other shielding her eyes from the glare bouncing off the surf. The heat clings despite the season, damp and humming, Deepfrost in name only, though the faint bite of the breeze still prickles along the skin where her shirt’s been knotted too high. Somewhere below, Spice makes an irritable chirrup from the sand where she’s coiled herself into a dragon-sized sulk over not being allowed in the hold.

"I was worried, you know," she says, casual like it costs her nothing, eyes tracking the tangle of ropes and pulleys looping across the Firecracker’s undercarriage where Melita had been replacing them. "When Jack up and left—" and gods, how the name still tastes like brine and glass on her tongue, "—I thought maybe you would too."

Her voice tilts on that maybe, more breeze than bite, like if she throws it light enough it won’t land hard.

She glances over then, golden curls twisted back with sea-glass pins, cheek smudged with dust, and offers the Honeybee a smile that crooks like it’s been bent a few too many times but refuses to break. "I’m really glad you didn’t."

I trace the evidence, make it make some sense
why the wound is still bleedin'

Code stolen from Queen Sky

Melita heaved another sigh from beneath the Firecracker, eyes peering upwards and allowing the hulk of her boat to shield her eyes from the pressing sun. Torchline didn’t hold any of the bitter cold that Halo, and many other portions had, and she’d yielded to its warm dominion immediately, only wrinkling her nose now as she glanced at all the portions left to clean after she was done with the ropes. How had it gotten so dirty so quickly? Maybe the trip to Apopo…

The train of thought was abruptly cut off as Flora started the conversation again, not anticipating where it was going. For a moment her eyes widened, before she found herself glancing away once more, grabbing another pulley and rope to distract herself from the impending emotions clinging against her ribcage. “Oh, well. You don’t need to worry about me,” she launched, half a smile etched on her face, a hapless shrug that deterred from all the other portions threading and threatening through her mind. Not many did. Maybe she’d never much given them a reason to – or she just wasn’t a blip or a thought. “He didn’t even say anything to me. I didn’t know he’d left. Sunjata told me.” Which really cemented and segmented a whole lot more to the Honeybee about the Captain, and her lot in the life of the Ark.

Her mouth opened for half a second more, wondering if she should even start opening up that particular can of worms – then pondered when her impulses had ever been stopped. Maybe it was maturity. Or she knew better; hated to see the scalding results. “Do – do you know why he went?” She could hazard a few guesses, but would rather hear the truth, she supposed, than ever trying to pry it out of Jack somewhere in King’s End.

But at Flora’s heartfelt grin, she could already feel a multitude of other bristling portions fading; maybe just into the ridge of her spine, rather than every column of enamel. “Thanks.”

melita

then I became the fire

Flora

The words sink deeper than they ought to, curling like seaweed in Flora’s gut as she watches Melita shrug her way through them. That half-smile, the offhand oh, well, it chafes. Not because it’s sharp, but because it’s too familiar. She’s worn that same grin before, used the same shoulder roll like it could scrape the ache off her bones and toss it somewhere else.

Flora frowns. Jack hadn’t even told her? She thinks, unbidden, of how upset he’d been when Melita had once considered leaving Torchline, thinks of the Captain's sharp words and sharper silences. And then, in an unparalleled gesture, he'd extended a pirate-shaped olive branch and gotten her a godsdamn skyship. Not for coin, not for power, but just to get her to stay. And then he’d left her behind without a word.

"That sucks," Flora says simply, the words warm and rough as driftwood. There’s more perched just behind them, like birds on a rail; he probably thought it was better that way, or he’s an idiot, but he cares. But none of that’s hers to offer anymore, is it? Jack’s actions used to tangle so tightly with her own, but whatever knots had held them together, she’s cut through them now. It’s not her place to smooth things over on his behalf, so she doesn’t.

Instead, she rolls her lips inward for a second, teeth catching at the corner in thought, before Melita’s question hits, and Flora’s face heats like the sun’s just dropped onto her shoulders. She clears her throat, quiet and tight, and shrugs, the motion small and oddly careful despite the breeze still tousling her curls. "It was probably because of me." The admission slips out like sea-glass worn smooth by too many waves. She doesn’t dress it up or try to soften it. She just turns to look at Melita, lets the Honeybee see all of it; guilt and ache and the tired shine of someone who’s not even sure where the blame should go, but is holding it anyway.

"We’d talked about trying again," she says, the words brushing low along her throat. "Getting back together. But once I really thought about it..." She lifts a hand, then lets it fall to her hip, the wrench clinking softly against a loose ring on her belt. "I knew I couldn’t do it. That I couldn't go through it all again just for it to.." Trailing off, Flora just sighs. So she’d written him a letter. Said the words with ink instead of lips and sent it off like a coward or a queen, depending who you asked.

"Then I heard the Ark set sail for King’s End." She shakes her head, hair catching in the breeze like ribbons. "And that’s where she stayed."

I trace the evidence, make it make some sense
why the wound is still bleedin'

Code stolen from Queen Sky

The skyship before them, hovering with all its wondrous power, was a symbol of how much Melita’s presence might’ve once meant. Why she scarcely mattered now, she didn’t know, and she’d likely only be left to wonder over those particles – much as she’d done many times over, striving to parse through her failures. It made her jaw clench with all those primordial emotions, stifling the rage and conforming it to something like a pebble in one’s shoe, that if she pretended long enough, it’d scarcely deign to make a dent in her hardened exterior of furor and tempestuous edges. Another thing to be conquered. Another figment to be discarded when she was through.

She had half a second to consider Flora’s weight in all these things – because she and the Captain had been far more connected, so when the admission came, her eyes widened, features incapable of hiding her surprise. Maybe Melita simply hadn’t been privy to the dramatics in the background, making her way through skies and mischief, barely digging into the surface of brimming possibilities and the way things had broken apart. “Oh, I didn’t know-,” she started, grimacing at herself, eyes flickering up to look at the Firecracker rather than trip into those wakes. But as the Doubletake offered more, the Honeybee found herself taking the other girl in, a long breath flowing from her lungs.

Relief, probably. But other emotions too – satisfied, that Flora had somehow managed to get away from his grip and grasp, and maybe a haughty depth to her grin – because she wouldn’t pin anything on the other woman, not when there’d always been a piece of shit man lingering upon the threshold, waiting to consume everything in his pathway. That she’d gotten herself out of his orbit was something wholly encompassing, and Melita wouldn’t be placing any of the blame upon the Queen. “I’m proud of you,” she bolstered first, with a feral grin etching past the other misgivings. “And I’m not going to blame you. Not one bit. You got yourself out of that mess.” Unaware she’d potentially found another, the demigod shrugged. “That’s his problem if he wants to sever everything.” Not bother talking to her. Running away to King’s End. Remaking and restoring with others or no one at all.

Why this moment had changed dynamics and agitated him enough to uproot everything, especially when they’d fizzled apart before, remained unbeknownst to her too. Shaking her head, taking a breath, her eyes flickered back to the boats. “So what else have I missed then? What happened with the bar?”

melita

then I became the fire

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 doesn’t flinch when Melita says she didn’t know. because of course she didn’t. The Honeybee had never really liked Flora and Jack together; not in the sharpen your knives, let’s run him out of town kind of way, but more like a disapproving older cousin watching a bad season of a show you’ve already committed to. Listening out of loyalty, side-eyeing every episode, waiting for the inevitable crash, offering moral support with the same sort of sigh one might reserve for reality TV with too many spin-offs and not enough character growth.

"Yeah, we..." she starts, then trails off. Her gaze skims the waves rather than finishing the thought. She’s already tried—gods, so many times—to explain what Jack had been to her, what she’d thought she was to him. But it always turned to smoke in her mouth, too slippery to hold. Even when she’d told others about that final conversation—about asking him, outright, if he could make her happy, and how he’d only shrugged and said that wasn’t his decision—it had never landed the way she needed it to.

But then Melita calls it a mess, and it lands differently. Something clicks. Not like a door opening, more like a frame tilting slightly and finally coming level.

Maybe it wasn’t that no one had understood.
Maybe it really just wasn’t that deep.

A laugh escapes her, soft and sharp, curling with salt and self-awareness. She scrubs a hand through her curls and flashes Melita a grin, crooked as ever. "You have no idea how good it feels to hear someone say that," she admits, voice tight around the edges, like the words are holding something else back. "I thought when he left, and things started falling apart in the Fingers, everyone would start pointing fingers at me." She swallows, glancing at the Honeybee, glad to know that while some probably would still, that the Honeybee wouldn't be among them.

When Melita brings up the bar, Flora’s first instinct is to lie. To toss out the version she’s been peddling like it’s part of the job; structural damage, time for an upgrade, blah blah. But the words stall behind her teeth, and maybe it’s the way Mel’s still watching her, or maybe she’s just tired of pretending.

Folding her arms, she lets her shoulders drop a little. "If I had to guess? Caly burned it down, she and her siblings, as payback for Jack leaving. I didn’t see them do it, but—" she lifts a brow, voice dry, "—the help it would’ve taken, the timing, the fact that they all suddenly moved to King’s End the next day..." She shrugs. "Pretty obvious."

And then, without missing a beat, she flashes a sly grin. "So instead of chasing them down and starting a whole fight about it, I just took credit for it. We would need to rebuild a bar anyway, so why let the Marin's get away with arson when I could turn it into a rebrand?"

Before Melita can reply, a gust of wind tugs at the sails and something giggles out on the waves as a child's laughter carries on the breeze. Rolling her eyes at the Echo Sharks, Flora turns back to the Sugartide, eyes landing on the long lavender vines draping off the port side. They’re drooping, pitiful in the breeze, all pale stems and sluggish curl. Mateo would throw an absolute fit if he saw how sad they’ve gotten.

Groaning louder this time—more for show than anything—Flora plants one hand on her hip and calls skyward like someone making a complaint to management. "Hey! Frey!" she calls, lifting her chin and aiming her voice toward whatever sliver of sunshine might be listening. "Any chance you could add a bit more oomph to my lavender before my brother sees it and kills me?"

---

Flora channels Nature Frey to revive the lavender on her ship

Channeling (Accepted) : Allows an Accepted the opportunity to channel one of the gods during a time of crisis (2x a season). Can be combined with other accepted channeling to increase power. If combined with another mastered channeling, increases the odds of a Big God answering to 15 %
Type: Light | Rank: Mastered | Cost: Action

I trace the evidence, make it make some sense
why the wound is still bleedin'

Code stolen from Queen Sky

Frey

"Lavender is quite a hardy plant." Frey stands beside the forlorn looking vines as if they have been there listening all along, golden skin a touch paler with the Deepfrost chill, clad in tangles of seaweed and fishnet. "But even it will succumb if not given a little care."

Brushing their fingers across the limp blooms and frail stems, the lavender immediately perks up under the touch, growing strong and vibrant and filling the air with their calming scent. Frey smiles, withdrawing only when the entire port side of the Sugartide is in bloom, and he glances back towards the girls with a tilt of their head.

"Food for thought," they murmur, before dissolving away on the sea breeze.

She waited. Melita wasn’t full of patience. One might say her impulsivity was a core part of her character, but she’d still stand by and listen to someone like Flora, whom she knew and cherished and respected, to explain the side of sense and rationality. Well, or what had been lingering and leading to those circumstances. The Honeybee had always made her stance known on the Flora and Jack front, but also hadn’t been amidst the many who’d beckon for the Doubletake to find someone else – one of those who could grant her observations and opinions, and then wait. If Flora had been happy in this eventual unfurling saga, then the demigod would have still watched, skeptically, until something else fell apart.

Nor did she need the explanation, the silence and trailing off enough to segment it wasn’t a story for this time, nor ever, if the younger woman didn’t want to give it. Melita’s only rationale towards heartbreak was one of devastating loss of her family – not whirlwind romances – so she pretended to tend back to her ship, narrowing her eyes at the underside and wondering how to peel off some of the other residue still clinging to the hull, when Flora’s voice finally rang through.

She huffed a laugh at the notions of finger pointing, rolling her eyes. “I know not many like accountability here, but it’s hardly your fault if Jack’s leaving made other people be pieces of shit.”

The news about the bar made her brows rise, snorting at how the Marin Triplets had somehow become involved. Was it loyalty towards their father, or just because they could? She’d leaned more towards the latter, at least on the little bits and pieces she knew about them (Nova, pain in the ass, and Vesper, content to stir shit). “Do you….want revenge or…,” but then the answer came thereafter, rebuilding the bar and rebranding simultaneously. “I mean. I guess,” she shrugged. “Let me know if you want help or anything.” She’d still want to kick their asses, but a lifetime and cycle of vengeance was something she held firm beliefs in.

Her eyes narrowed at the echo sharks for half a moment, wrinkling her nose at the laughter, before Flora summoned Frey. It didn’t surprise her, from either the action nor the herald summoning, once a part of that life too, watching as the deity assured the lavender found its flare again. “Can I try something?” she grinned, sparking a denizen of potential in her chaotic little mind, before lifting a finger to boop Flora on the shoulder. “And…are you happy now?”

melita

then I became the fire

Flora

Flora smirks, the expression carving its way across her features like seafoam whipped up by a sharp gust; faintly crooked, faintly relieved, and all the more grateful for how Melita doesn’t try to play devil’s advocate for the devil himself. Gods knew Jack had enough of those already.

"Revenge?" she echoes, letting the word hang like salt on a margarita rim. A sigh spills out, softer than expected, and she doesn’t bother hiding the hesitation that flickers through her like light through a net. "If it weren’t for all the other bullshit to consider?" Her brows lift. "Absolutely." And she means it. She’d drag Caly through the sand and make a whole show of it. She’d let the entire port watch. She’d crown herself Queen of Petty and sell tickets, but..

"There’s a lot of feathers that’d get ruffled if I did," she mutters, giving her curls a slow twist around one finger. “"Political ones. Personal ones." A shrug. "So instead, I’m just pretending nothing happened. That way no one actually knows what they did." Her gaze cuts sideways, sly as the tide pulling out. "I figure if I build a new bar and act like I don’t give a fuck, it’ll piss Caly off more than anything else." Grinning now, sharp-edged and sweet, she bumps her hip lightly into Melita’s. "And yeah. I’ll definitely take you up on that."

Before more can be said, there’s a shift in the air—a shimmer, a weight, something brighter than sun alone—and Flora turns to find Frey already there, standing amidst the withered lavender like they’ve been waiting for the right moment to join the scene.

Golden skin haloed by seaweed and netting, Frey is beautiful in the way of storms and tidepools, wild and unbothered. Flora steps back, beaming openly now, warmth suffusing her features as she breathes in the newly risen scent curling from the revitalized blooms. It spills down the Sugartide’s side like a blessing—rich and violet, sweet and soft—and when she meets Frey’s gaze again, she nods deeply, taking in the weight of the words. "Thank youuuuuuuuuu," she purrs, watching as they dissolve into sea breeze, smile still lingering like sunlight on water.

Turning to Melita again, she gives a small shrug and a nod. "Go for it."

And when the Honeybee reaches out and boops her shoulder—just a touch, simple and direct—Flora freezes for a breath, and then smiles. Not the crooked, painted version she wears for crowds or strategy. Not the tight one she gives when she’s trying not to cry. A real one. "Yeah," she says quietly, but firmly, like the truth it is. "I actually really think I am."

I trace the evidence, make it make some sense
why the wound is still bleedin'

Code stolen from Queen Sky

Yeah. There was always the bullshit. Melita sighed almost in unison, understanding the wading through the dust and grime after the fire had been lit, set, and gone aflame. When all was said and done, sometimes the remnants thereafter sparked new denizens – and while she was all for mustering vengeance for all the affronts, she could see where things, especially with the Marins, could simply turn out for the worst. The potential with fire could always result in everything engulfed. “Taking the high road, huh,” she perceived, snorting a little, because it wasn’t a path she often traveled. Studying the way the lavender arched and the barbs still left on her own skyship, she listened just the same – wondering when either of them had gotten so mature or if it this was merely a symptom of growth or some shit. “I guess. Do you think they prefer the infamy?”

But between Frey and Flora, Melita leaned more towards paying attention to her friend, watching as a real smile ignited along the Doubletake. Not something forged or forced, as so many of them were nowadays, and the Honeybee gave one in return; not wholly dabbled in feral qualities, but more of the just and swift grins of contentment for her fellow brethren. “Good. You deserve it.”

She wouldn’t dig much deeper – the sentiment and truth was enough. Instead, her smile turned mischievous, and leaning into the qualities of yesteryear, of days before demigodhood, of things plucked from Flora’s abilities, she gazed up at her beautiful Firecracker. Long ago, she never would’ve dreamed of doing anything with such machinations without danger lurking nearby; now it was for whimsy and mercurial ponderings. “Spirits, could you help clean my skyship?”

--

Melita uses Flora’s ability to channel spirits to clean the skyship!

Magic: Monkey See | Requires Melita to have seen an ability used in the current thread and takes an entire action to activate via touch. After, can cast that ability at basic level with a 30 ft. radius.
Type: Grey | Rank: Upgraded | Cost: Action
Type: Light | Rank: Mastered | Cost: Action

melita

then I became the fire

we shall all burn together

A shimmering gust answers Melita’s call, slipping into being with a breath of salt and sunlight. It rises from the sand in a swirl of seafoam and fine lavender petals, laughter light and wordless caught in the breeze. The spirit flits toward the Firecracker with obvious delight, trailing mist and brine as it dances along the hull, weaving in and out of rigging and ropes. Where it passes, soot and grime dissolve like old scars washed clean, metal gleaming, sails flicking taut and proud in the wind. The ship seems to shimmer in response, colours brightening, the Firecracker preening beneath the spirit’s touch like a dragon enjoying a bath, basking in the attention with a slow creak of approval.

Flora

Flora wrinkles her nose, laughing under her breath as she nudges a loose length of rope aside with her boot. "I don’t think of it as taking the high road," she says, brushing her hands on her hips. "More like...not falling into their obvious little trap."

She glances toward the horizon. "I mean, if they’d just wanted to hurt me, there are easier ways. Egg my house. Show up screaming. Have a dramatic bitch fight in the the middle of Haulani." A shrug rolls through her shoulders, light but not dismissive. "But burning down the bar—which I gave to her? That was meant to be public. So yeah. I’m hoping taking that angle away from them stings."

Turning, she catches Melita’s smile again and offers a quieter one of her own. "Thanks," she says simply, genuinely, no dramatic flourish required.

As Melita calls for spirits of her own and the air responds with glittering wind and motion, Flora watches the Firecracker bloom into brilliance with a small, appreciative huh. Hand on her hip, she eyes the sparkling sails, then glances sidelong at the Honeybee with an amused brow lift. "I didn’t think you could do that anymore," she muses, adjusting a strand of freshened lavender curling near her elbow.

Then, with a flicker of warmth still humming behind her gaze, she softens just enough to let curiosity in. "How’ve you been lately?"

I trace the evidence, make it make some sense
why the wound is still bleedin'

Code stolen from Queen Sky

The Honeybee wasn’t certain of the implication that she would fall into their obvious little trap (probably; but there’d be fire and brimstone on both sides when she was done), so she shrugged, listening regardless. Caido was full of spiteful, petty little deviances and differences; the meaning was clear though that Flora didn’t want to stoop to the level of the messages and meanings. “Maybe your version of revenge will be cleaner,” she winked in return – a sharper knife when it appeared as indifference, when the youths might be seen as nothing more than nuisances, when the results were easier to step over and around. Perhaps Flora had taken it to heart underneath the surface but knew how to deal with it far better than counterparts; could hold the weight of it all. Not that she should have to.

She could almost hear Flora’s minor confusion as the spirits whirled amidst Melita’s behest, and the demigod grinned further, watching as the gust shimmered, then altered, seafoam and lavender blending, blurring together into an unceasing delight that postured upon her features too. “Beautifully done!” she offered in return, granting a clap and a round of applause as even the Firecracker seemed to preen under the influence. “Thank you!”

Her brow arched at Flora’s insinuation, amused in return. “So turns out I can copy others’ magic,” so long as she saw them utilize it and booped them in the process. A slower way over some methods, but in a pinch, she could see it being a handy turn in dangerous situations.

The curiosity turned her way shouldn’t have rankled; but she stiffened ever so slightly, keeping thoughts of meandering around Halo and Iskra to a protective little hold until she’d sorted out many parameters and multitudes on her own. “Good. Causing chaos, y’know. The usual. Won a sled the other day.”

melita

then I became the fire

Flora

Flora shrugs, palms brushing the sides of her thighs as the last of the spirits dissipate into saltwind and sparkle. "Maybe," she echoes, the word curling with a grin that’s more teeth than teeth-gritting. If indifference was a knife, then hers had just been sharpened on the bones of a burned-out bar.

She turns just in time to catch Melita’s applause and the Firecracker practically glowing under it, and gods help her, it actually makes her laugh. Not one of those sharp, performative laughs that get tossed out at parties or town meetings, but a real one, from somewhere deep enough to feel fizzy.

And when Melita explains the boop-to-copy situation, Flora’s delight sparks. Her grin widens into something mischievous and lopsided, a little too pleased by the absolute chaos potential. "Of course you can," she says, voice bright with admiration and a touch of disbelief. "That’s epic." Then, with a slow bounce of her brows and a hand sweeping theatrically toward the sea, she declares, "That pretty much makes you the best demigod of them all, right?" She’s only mostly joking.

The slight shift in Melita’s posture doesn’t go unnoticed—Flora’s spent enough time holding her own body like a fortress to recognize it in others—but she doesn’t press. She knows what it’s like to be asked and not ready. To want to keep certain stories folded up like secret letters, unsent and unread. So instead, she just grins. "That's great." Then she blinks, head snapping around with a laugh that nearly sends her off balance. "A sled?" she gasps, hand to her chest like Melita’s just revealed some scandalous affair. "Like a sled-sled? With, like, runners and bells and snow and a whole Deepfrost aesthetic?"

I trace the evidence, make it make some sense
why the wound is still bleedin'

Code stolen from Queen Sky