under bright lights

flora

"You absolutely were," Flora replies without hesitation, her voice wrapped in laughter and certainty as her eyes gleam with mischief. "Anyway, as long as you stay on Nonna’s good side—which I realise is only slightly easier than surviving a hawk attack from a grumpy demigod—I don’t see why you couldn’t come back again."

A thought flickers in her chest before she can guard against it, and she shrugs casually, like it costs her nothing to say it aloud. "I’m planning on freeing my twin from Mort's realm soon," she adds, her voice lighter than the words deserve, almost breezy in their delivery. "So if all goes well, maybe my dad won’t be so frugal with the visitation slots after that."

Her smile returns as she glances back at him, lifting her brows in a challenge that sparkles more than it stings. "You guarantee a good time?" she echoes, clearly delighted. "Dangerous words." And yet she believes him without question, the easy confidence in his stride matching the tone in his voice, drawing her into step beside him with ease.

Another laugh slips from her lips as he picks up the pace, a soft huff that’s more affection than mockery. "I only meant I wasn’t sure if your muscles would’ve atrophied in Mort’s realm," she teases, sweeping a critical glance over him, as if evaluating whether death has dulled any of his charm or posture. "But I stand corrected."

The boardwalk glows beneath their steps as the sun sinks lower, salt-laced air brushing against her skin with warm familiarity. Just ahead, the bar emerges like a well-kept secret nestled into the beach, its white stone façade softened by flowering vines and framed in sleek black windows that reveal a glimpse of the interior: pale wood, soft marble, and curved pockets of low seating lit by candlelight. Glass lanterns flicker to life above the entrance, their amber glow reflected in the polished door, and from somewhere inside, a string quartet plays low and sultry, each note weaving through the evening like silk.

"It’s one of my favourites," she says quietly. "Mostly locals, very few idiots, and the wine list’s actually been curated instead of copied off someone’s wall."

you don't know that you're living til' you're carrying scars
you're either falling in love or falling apart

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

liars and lovers combine tonight, we're gonna make a scene

"Your grandmother's good side is not something I plan on straying from," Neron assures her with a smirk as they set off down the beach towards the promised wine bar, "but - and I mean no disrespect to her - it isn't her I think I really need to impress if I want to come back here any time soon." He raises his eyebrows pointedly towards Flora; he's here for her, after all, and if she deems him bad company a bad date? then he can kiss goodbye to the living world again forever.

He tilts his head to hear about her twin, something in her words twisting an old, nearly forgotten wound in his chest. "I didn't know you had one," he says quietly, "or that you lost them. We have even more in common than I thought." Smiling almost listlessly out towards the ocean for a moment, he soon reels it back in with a deep breath and a long sigh. "I have no idea where my twin is," he confesses. "All I know is that he isn't dead. So..." He shrugs.

She certainly does stand corrected - not that Neron's muscles have ever been anything to write home about, given his reliance on magic and wit over any sort of physical combat, not to mention the advantage of being Ascended and not needing to bulk up to commit feats of strength. Still, as she catches up to him and they fall into step together again, Neron makes sure to keep his steps even and sure.

All that being said, he's distracted not only by the wine bar emerging in the distance, but by the burst of salt on the air mingling with Flora's perfume, by the feel of her leaning into him as they walk, by the warmth of the last rays of light on his cheeks and in his hair. By the time they get close enough to stand in the merry glow of its lantern light, Neron's smile is uncharacteristically open, as if he's momentarily been somewhere else entirely. 

"You are building this place up to be exceptional, I hope you know," he tells her, releasing her only so he might open the door and hold it open for her to step inside. "I warn you now, though, for a former barman, I am liable to be drunk on one glass, so be gentle with me."

Neron

flora

"Mmm," Flora murmurs with a smile, her eyes slanting sidelong to catch his expression as they walk. "You always made an impression with me, one way or another." Her tone remains light, not quite flirtatious but undeniably fond, and she shrugs with a slow roll of her shoulders, curls brushing against her collarbone as she adds, "But Vai’s still better at twisting my dad’s arm than I am. Comes with the whole terrifying matriarch thing." The grin that follows is sharper, almost conspiratorial. "That said, I’ve probably racked up enough parental blunders to cash in a few favours of my own. Remi might not like it, but he owes me more than one miracle."

The words soften as her smile does, and though the sea continues humming around them, the shift in the air between them is unmistakable. "Enzo was still alive the last time we talked," she says quietly, her voice more steady than sad. "He died in the war." There’s no dramatics to the statement, no shattering grief dragging behind it—just a truth worn smooth from being carried too long. "Just like you."

She’s forgotten until now that Neron had mentioned a twin of his own all those years ago, the memory buried beneath layers of other conversations, other versions of herself. Her lips twitch faintly, not quite a smile, and she presses her shoulder gently against his. Her fingers tighten around his arm just enough for him to feel the weight of her understanding as she looks up at him. "No one else really knows what it’s like," she says, not as a question or a reach for comfort, but as something that simply is. "Losing a twin, I mean."

As Neron opens the door for her with an easy charm, Flora beams up at him as she slips inside, only to pause when the hostess holds up a single finger in that universal just a moment gesture. Turning slightly toward him, she arches one lazy brow, a wicked glint sparking in her gaze. "For all I remember of you," she purrs, her voice dropping to a velvet drawl, “"I doubt very much you need me to be gentle." The smirk that follows is quicksilver sharp, though softened by the sudden burst of laughter that escapes before she can contain it. "Mort’s realm really must’ve softened you up."

The hostess returns with a polished smile and a wave of her hand, guiding them toward a booth tucked into the back corner of the room. The high-top table is circled by a tall couchined booth and half-wrapped in a curve of pale wood that turns the little space into its own private alcove.

you don't know that you're living til' you're carrying scars
you're either falling in love or falling apart

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

liars and lovers combine tonight, we're gonna make a scene

"Then I succeeded, one way or another," Neron purrs, slanting a smile right back at Flora and allowing himself, for just a moment, to feel the small but blossoming hope of a potential future visit to the living realm. Perhaps things won't feel so dizzyingly overwhelming the second time around (sike, they will), and he'll be in a position to think about the world beyond the immediate right now.

But since right now is where they're at, it's where Neron is more than happy to remain, and he offers a solemn nod to Flora as she continues to speak about her twin. "Sounds as though the war took out the best of all of us," he says, a dash of gallows humour in his tone, but he doesn't understate the difficulty of her losing someone so close. He hadn't shared quite such an intimate relationship with his own twin - wherever Loren might be - but he can still understand that sort of bond better than most.

"My twin and I must have lost each other multiple times over," he admits. "We're Outlanders - appeared in vastly different parts of Caido. It's something I'm ashamed to say I got quite used to."

But then they are finally reaching the wine bar, and he lets the door swing shut behind them to seal them into marble and music and decadence. "Less Mort's realm," he admits back to her with a catlike smirk, "and more being alive and in the presence of a beautiful woman. But if you really wish to be rough with me, I'll not stop you."

That smirk remains on his lips as they are guided to their private little booth, Neron sidling into it after allowing Flora to go first, and he accepts the wine menu from the host with practiced charm and flair. "Are you hungry?" he asks the Doubletake. "Wine and appetisers, perhaps?"

Neron

flora

The surprise flickers across her face before she can school it, her eyes widening just a little as she blinks at the casual revelation. "You're an Outlander?" she echoes, the words touched with quiet wonder, not because it diminishes anything, but because it folds another layer of mystique around the memory of him that has lived rent-free in her imagination since she was seventeen. Back then she’d filled in every blank with fantasy, constructing entire stories from the briefest of encounters, and this little truth only adds to the illusion rather than breaks it. "God's anything else mI should know?" Warden, hybrid, ascended, twin.

Her laughter spills like silver into the warm air, soft and slightly breathless, and she shakes her head slowly as if trying to absolve herself of the responsibility. The past version of herself would have blushed so furiously at his innuendo, but there's still the faintest flush paints itself across her cheeks, delicate and unbothered, and instead of scrambling for something coy or clever, she just chuckles. "With you being such a gentleman, I hardly see why I’d need to," she says with a shrug that’s all ease and grace, her lips curving into something both fond and teasing.

She leans toward him without really thinking, drawn by the quiet comfort of proximity as she peers at the wine menu in his hands, her curls brushing lightly against his shoulder. "I could eat," she says with an emphatic nod, brows raising in pleased agreement as her eyes scan the handwritten list of reds and whites. "Especially if there’s cheese involved."

you don't know that you're living til' you're carrying scars
you're either falling in love or falling apart

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

liars and lovers combine tonight, we're gonna make a scene

"Mmhm," Neron says, as amused by the knowledge as Flora is surprised by it. "Came from Northaven - same as Remi, I believe." I believe because whatever he might be in Caido now, if you think Neron Launceleyn gave Remi Abruzzo more than a passing glance back there (beyond considering having him arrested), you'd be sorely mistaken. As for whether there's anything else she ought to know, Neron's smile twists towards something teasing and just a little secretive. "A gentleman never tells," he purrs, and suddenly finds the wine menu very fascinating indeed.

Her laughter is more music than the quartet playing in the bar, Neron glancing sidelong at her and feeling unnecessarily pleased at the subtle flush on her cheeks. "Shame," he says, far too casually, at the news that she deems it unnecessary to treat him roughly, and carefully angles the wine menu towards her as she leans in towards him. 

"I could too," he says - and that's an understatement, given that a morsel of real food hasn't passed his lips in years. "Charcuterie?" he suggests, gesturing to the suggested appetisers at the bottom of the menu. "Accompanied with this for me, I think." He's decisive in it, gesturing to a rich, earthy red with notes of coffee and cherry.

Neron

flora

No doubt Neron will tire of it eventually, but as he mentions Northaven, Flora's mouth falls open in another unguarded O, the expression so instinctive she doesn’t even try to hide it. "Wait—wait," she says, laughter curling at the edge of her voice as she turns fully toward him, eyes bright with renewed curiosity. "Did you know my dad back then? Or Ronin?" The idea feels so absurd, so far removed from the world she knows, that she has to blink just to try and picture it.

Her eyes narrow playfully as she leans in a fraction closer, searching his face like it might give something away. But the teasing twist of his smile is answer enough, and she chuckles under her breath, her fingers brushing a curl away from her cheek as she rolls her eyes playfully.

When he gestures to the charcuterie board, she lights up instantly, nodding her agreement with an eager, "Ooh—yes please," before letting her gaze slide over the wine list once more. Her lips twitch at the description beside one of the whites—floral, bright, notes of citrus and yellow pear—and she taps it lightly with a single red nail. "That one for me."

She settles back into the booth again, the lean of her body relaxed and content as she crosses one leg over the other and lets the curve of her spine follow the gentle arc of the high-backed seat. The laughter that follows is low and indulgent, warm in her chest as she angles her gaze toward him once more. "I suppose I can’t really ask what you’ve been up to since I last saw you," she says, her tone gently dry. "Unless there's any ghost drama to hear about, in which case I'm all ears."

you don't know that you're living til' you're carrying scars
you're either falling in love or falling apart

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

liars and lovers combine tonight, we're gonna make a scene

"I knew of Ronin - he made it quite high up in the Storm Guard, if I recall," Neron says smoothly, sounding patiently bored about the whole affair, but clearly more than happy to indulge in Flora's curiosities for as long as she wishes. "And it's likely that I saw both on them on more than a handful of occasions, but did I interact with them personally?" On purpose? "Not so much." And if he did, clearly he didn't deem it important enough to remember. "My family was more concerned with itself and with whatever ongoing political drama was at hand at the time."

Watching as she continues to examine the wine list, Neron waits for her selection and offers a quiet nod, flipping the menu decisively shut once they've made their picks. "Then that is what you shall have," he says, clearly thinking nothing of glancing out of the booth and catching the attention of a server. Needing no assistance from the menu - he's already got the names of both wines ready on his lips - he hands it back after ordering a glass of each and the charcuterie board for them to share.

By the time that's done, Flora has gotten herself comfortable and Neron angles himself casually to glance face her. "Gods, no," he says through a disappointed sigh, almost groaning the words out. "Nothing like that at all - it's exhausting, everything being fine all the time. Would that there was any trouble to cause in the afterlife. How about you, though? Here? I think last time we spoke you had only just moved here."

Neron

flora

"The Storm Guard," Flora repeats with exaggerated skepticism, wrinkling her nose as if the name alone carries a whiff of self-importance. His mention of family draws a slight lift of her brows, curiosity sharpening in her expression as she tips her head. "Oh? The same kind of political drama we have here, or did your world have its own unique flavour of it?" Her voice lilts upward with interest, not nosy so much as gently prodding, as if trying to piece together another glimmer of the man across from her.

But whatever answer he might offer is allowed to linger for a moment as he flags down the server and takes care of their order without hesitation. Something about the way he does it—confident, efficient, not remotely bothered by the ritual of it—leaves her faintly charmed, content to sit back and simply nod her approval as he speaks on their behalf.

Flora's grin flashes brighter when he returns his focus to her, and she can’t help the delighted note that slips into her laughter as he bemoans the tedium of the afterlife. "See, that’s exactly what I was worried about," she murmurs conspiratorially, as if they’re sharing a secret beneath the table. "I think I’d go stir crazy too, if everything was just nice all the time. What are you even meant to do if there’s no one around to break your heart or stab you in the back or ruin your carefully balanced wine list with a single truly terrible suggestion?"

She widens her eyes for theatrical emphasis as he turns the question on her, dragging in a breath as if the telling of it might require proper bracing. "Alright," she says, nodding as though settling in for a performance. "Since your life’s been so heartbreakingly lacking in drama, I'll give you the exciting version."

Her voice drops slightly, not in volume but in tone, the edges of her smile sharpening into something that glints with memory. "After Enzo died, I decided I wanted to do something, so I made a bid to become queen of Torchline." She lifts a brow as if daring him to guess how that went, and then answers for him anyway. "It did not go well. I was rejected across the board—too young, too soft, too new, too everything they didn’t want, blah blah."

A small shrug follows, elegant and practiced. "So I patched up the Hanged Man, dragged it from the edge of collapse, and spent the next year proving every single one of them wrong, one by one." She lowers her voice then, not for secrecy but for dramatic flair, her eyes gleaming as if she’s letting him in on a rumour just slightly too juicy to print. "I became queen, and the man who ran the smear campaign against me ended up gutted in an alley a few years later."

you don't know that you're living til' you're carrying scars
you're either falling in love or falling apart

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

liars and lovers combine tonight, we're gonna make a scene

"Quite so," Neron says with a smirk. "They were the military force in Northaven, from grunts all the way up to the General of the Storm. They made up quite a large proportion of the populace." For good reason as it happened, but Neron had never bothered himself too much with the Wall and what lay beyond it. His concerns lay much closer to home. Speaking of which, "Oh gods, much more interesting," he drawls with a smile. "There were marriages and scandals galore. Our glorious leader had not long taken his second wife when I ended up here."

Sighing, because ah, those were the days, Neron watches their server depart before turning his attention wholly back to Flora. "Exactly, thank you," he agrees, gesturing as if the excitement of the afterlife might just appear before them for him to take back with him to Mort's realm. "I always wonder if there's a way to actively promote myself to poltergeist. At least then I can cause a little excitement for the living to pass the time."

For tonight, though, Flora is here to spin her tale of drama and intrigue, Neron's steely blue eyes growing brighter with the promise of something steeped in excitemment. And he's the picture of a perfect audience, hanging on each golden thread of gossip as if he might be able to examine it between his fingers. Queen of Torchline, you say? Rejected across the board? Those bastards.

"But of course you did," he croons approvingly as she moves onto her work with The Hanged Man, the Launceleyn seeming both unsurprised and simultaneously delighted to hear it. If they had their drinks already, he'd have raised his in a toast to fuck 'em, but alas, they'll have to wait. "What a shame for him," he says of her political opponent, sounding saccharine in his pretense at empathy. "And here you are, queen still? I ought to have searched the afterlife for some finer clothes than this."

Neron

flora

Flora wrinkles her nose delicately as Neron explains the structure of the Storm Guard, her expression folding into something caught between feigned horror and genuine disinterest. "That all sounds very strict," she says, voice lilting with mock severity as her brows lift, lips pursing ever so slightly. But as his tone turns to scandal and marriage, her whole face lights up again, and her brow arches high with delighted disbelief.

"Wait. Wait." Her jaw drops in theatrical slow-motion as if the words alone require a moment of stunned silence. "He had two wives? At the same time?" Her grin is unrepentant as she leans in like someone gathering gossip across a velvet chaise. "See, that’s the kind of drama we need more of in Caido. These days, it’s always someone almost dying or actually dying, and the whole thing’s just exhausting." She lets out an exaggerated huff, fluttering her fingers in the air as if to physically push the memory of recent chaos aside.

Grinning at him sidelong, her tone slips back into something softer, more curious but still light at the edges. "Once I’ve got my twin sorted," she says casually, as if the resurrection of a soul were just another item on her list of seasonal goals, "maybe I’ll see if there’s a way to relax things on your end a little. If I can’t get you all the way through, maybe there’s something we can do to make sure your presence gets felt properly." Her eyes gleam as she adds with a wicked smile, "If the world’s going to be short on scandal, maybe you can be the drama it’s lacking."

She’s absolutely preening beneath the glow of his attention, delighted by the way he listens; no interruptions, no sidelong glances at the door or distractions from the moment. Just that cool, unwavering gaze and every reaction landing with exactly the right amount of theatrical indulgence. "I am," she confirms brightly, chin lifting with that unmistakable flair of a girl who’s fought for her crown and keeps it polished.

Her eyes drift over him, taking in the sharp cut of his clothing and the ink-dark fabric that fits him like a glove. Chuckling low in her throat, she shakes her head. "If you’d shown up dressed any better, you’d have made me look underdressed," she teases, reaching to tug at the hem of her sweater dress with mock disapproval before settling back into her seat.

Then, tilting her head to the side, her tone slips into something more thoughtful, still light but laced with curiosity. "I wonder," she muses aloud, "if we went shopping, would you be able to bring anything back with you? Like...could you just walk out of here in a brand new outfit and saunter back into the afterlife with it, do you think?"

you don't know that you're living til' you're carrying scars
you're either falling in love or falling apart

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

liars and lovers combine tonight, we're gonna make a scene

"At the same time," Neron echoes, his eyebrows raising in the sort of dry judgement anyone in Northaven would have long expected from him (Edrei in particular). "Which is very greedy, if you ask me, considering how hard they preached that we should all get married and make babies." Not to mention who the second wife was and how Neron had been affiliated with her for so long, but that's a story for never another day. "Don't get me wrong, though, that sort of thing felt exhausting as well, after a while."

Given that Flora has risen through the ranks of newcomer to bar owner to queen - and that her fathers are demigods and her mother is a scary ghost-witch and they have the ability to raise the dead for a night - Neron isn't all that surprised with how casual she makes it sound. Once I've got my twin sorted, like it's an errand on a to-do list. Nevertheless, he doesn't truly believe that his situation is capable of changing, but he does offer her an indulgent smile to hear the plans. "Make sure I have some appropriately dramatic chains to rattle, won't you?" He smirks.

As for her state of dress, Neron doesn't hide the long look he gives her, evidently finding nothing wrong with it at all. "I think you could wear anything and have it look entirely appropriate for the occasion," he says breezily, before sitting up as their wine and charcuterie arrives. Quietly thanking their server, he waits a beat after they're left alone again before picking up his glass with barely visible restraint. 

"Oh, I doubt anything like that would be possible," he laments with a shrug. "Material things don't belong in the spirit world. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't enjoy window shopping anyway." Lifting the glass to his nose and inhaling the bouquet of it, the soft laughter that spills from his lips is a much younger sound than Neron is used to hearing from himself. "Gods, I have missed being able to enjoy wine."

Neron

flora

For someone who’s grown up surrounded by gods and ghosts, who has watched people die and come back, it still somehow takes Flora a moment to properly parse the world Neron describes. The formality of it. The weight. The rules.

She opens her mouth to speak, closes it again, then blinks at him with a furrow in her brow that’s more curious than critical. "Wait. Were you married?" she asks, voice lifting with a touch of disbelief, as if trying to picture it and finding the image refusing to fit. Then, more urgently, her expression sharpening with a flicker of true concern beneath the humour, "Did you have children?" The thought alone sends her reeling in a way she didn’t expect, though she tucks it neatly beneath a laugh a second later, leaning back in her seat as if putting emotional distance between herself and the possibility.

"Alright, dramatic chains it is," she says with a delighted grin, recovering her usual rhythm. "Maybe I’ll even make it so you show up in mirrors too. That way you could haunt people by watching their whole lives like one long, badly edited TV show." Her eyes sparkle as the idea builds, ridiculous and oddly perfect, and she lifts her glass just slightly in toast to it. "You’d be the most stylish poltergeist Caido’s ever had, and then maybe you wouldn't be so bored."

She catches the way his eyes settle on her, and though it isn’t the first time someone’s looked at her like that, the warmth in his gaze makes her blush anyway. It’s subtle—just a faint colouring beneath her cheeks—but it’s enough to make her laugh softly under her breath as she straightens slightly, the change in posture doing little to chase the heat that lingers along her skin.

Their server arrives, the scent of warm bread, cheese, and cured meat curling into the air, and Flora hums her thanks as the plates are placed gently between them. She’s still thinking about his earlier comment as she reaches for her wine, her fingers resting lightly against the stem. "I didn’t even notice what I was wearing," she says with a shrug, her voice gentler now. "The time I died. I was too focused on getting back out again to pay attention."

Her smile returns at the sound of his laughter, softer now but no less sincere, and she picks up her glass with an almost matching laugh of her own. Nudging her shoulder lightly against his, her grin curves as she murmurs, "I’m sure it tastes even better than it smells," before raising the glass to her lips and letting the first sip melt across her tongue.

you don't know that you're living til' you're carrying scars
you're either falling in love or falling apart

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

liars and lovers combine tonight, we're gonna make a scene

"Me?" Neron lets out an honest laugh at that, seeming genuinely amused. "Gods, no. Never married and no kids in Northaven, and I became an Ascended... ish not too long after arriving here." And he doesn't seem remotely sad about it. "I was probably close to proposing to someone if I'm honest, but I couldn't tell you how much was obligation and trauma and how much it was what I wanted." And he certainly doesn't count the weird alternate-reality where he'd apparently taken Zariah for a wife and given her a son.

Dramatic chains and scrying mirrors it is, though, and Neron raises his glass of wine a little higher in a toast as if to tell her he's willing and able to fulfil the role of stylish poltergeist. Flora might change her mind when she realises he almost exclusively walks around in black - just like right now - but there's not denying that it's a colour that makes everyone look good, so... whatever.

Unsurprised to hear that she, too, has joined Mort's realm, however briefly, he nevertheless raises his eyebrows down at his outfit suddenly. "Was I wearing this when I died...?" he says, almost to himself. Gods, probably. "Regardless, congratulations on escaping death's clutches. Even if I have to admit you'd make the place at least ten times more interesting."

Ah, but then there's wine to be had, and Neron smiles down into the deep red depths of his glass and nods. "Oh I am sure it does," he agrees, following suit and lifting the wine to his lips to drink deeply from it. The bold flavour explodes across his tongue, tart and earthy and just a little sweet, and he sinks back in the booth with a pleased smile. "Well," he says quietly, "between you and this, it's going to be very difficult to leave again now."

Neron