when you become a memory you can never lose a fight

flora

The Sugartide hangs motionless in the burnished air above the Maw while the sea below glows molten and bruised beneath the sinking sun. Heat clings to Flora’s skin in a thin, restless sheen, LongHeat refusing to loosen its grip even as evening bleeds gold into copper into something darker at the horizon. She stands at the railing with both hands wrapped around the wood, fingers curled tight enough that the knuckles pale beneath her rings, the wind lifting the hem of her sundress and teasing the loose ends of the braid resting over her shoulder.

The flower from her engagement ring sits woven into the top of that braid, pale petals threaded carefully through blonde curls that catch the light like spun sugar, and the ring itself flashes whenever she shifts her grip, diamonds and coloured stones cut into the shape of a bloom that seems almost alive in the sunset.

Below deck, she knows Kai is probably fidgeting, not because he is there to hide and not because she doubts him, but because some conversations need silence around them and the anti-telepathy ring glints unseen in the dim of the lower cabin to keep his thoughts from spilling where they are not invited, at least for a time.

On the horizon, the Ark cuts a dark shape against the firelit sky, her sails catching the last light as she draws closer and closer, steady and inevitable. Flora does not wave, does not move. She only watches, shoulders squared, chin lifted just enough to suggest calm from a distance, as though this is nothing more than two ships meeting over open water instead of something that presses tight and sharp behind her ribs.

you're 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!

JACK

Flora must have good eyes to spot The Ark at the very time of day she's born to sail. But then she's always had an eye for her, and Jack knows as much, so he doesn't try to hide behind the soft orange fringe of clouds or the dazzle of the last light. Instead he sails as he's always done - bold and unapologetic, and whilst he trusts that they aren't going to hit the Sugartide (because he's emphatically ordered as much to the fiery redhead at the ship's core), it certainly looks like they will.

The Captain's voice rings out above the others as they draw close enough to almost kiss the smaller vessel, Jack visible in the rigging rather than at the wheel where Murphy is looking impassive as ever (though his knuckles are a bit whiter than usual). The sails snap and the dark lacquer of the wood creaks, but they do not collide with Flora and the Sugartide. They glide abreast of her, galleon to sailboat, and it's with a combination of magic and skill that The Ark draws to a halt and a hover.

Jack's boots hit the deck as he drops from the rigging, the sound solid and yet unexpectedly light, and he straightens with the breeze tugging at the soft linen of his shirt, left half unbuttoned in the heat. He's chewing thoughtfully at the end of a sprig of peppermint bark as he approaches the rail, steps slow, hair half-lifted into an unruly top knot, the rest left sunbleached and loose around his shoulders.

Leaning against the rail, rings glinting (all but in the white space against one of his pinky fingers), he regards Flora with cold, kohl-lined eyes and an expectant raise of his brows. "Lemme guess," he rumbles, gesturing to the deck behind him. "Mine's bigger, an' you don't wanna be overheard."

we've gone way too fast for way too long
and we were never supposed to make it half this far

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

flora

Flora watches as the larger ship barrels forward without apology, lacquered hull gleaming dark against the molten sky. Her fingers tighten instinctively around the railing until the wood presses hard into her palms, rings biting into skin as the distance between them shrinks from daring to reckless to something that would be catastrophic if either captain blinked, but Flora doesn't call out. Either he means to hit them or he doesn't, and her voice would not tilt that scale. So she stands where she is, shoulders squared, chin lifted, braid tugged sideways by the wind while the Maw yawns black and patient beneath them, and she lets him decide what kind of man he intends to be tonight.

Only when The Ark glides to a halt, close enough that she could spit and strike his hull, does the breath ease from her lungs in a quiet exhale she does not dramatize. Relief moves through her like the release of a held tide, subtle but undeniable, and she shifts her grip just enough to disguise how tightly she had been holding on.

He drops to his deck with that easy lightness he’s always worn like armour, linen shirt open to the heat, peppermint bark at his mouth as if this is nothing more than another evening and not something carved sharp between them. The dark smudges around his blue eyes stand out starkly in the last light, kohl cutting his gaze into something colder than the sunset deserves, and Flora meets it barefaced, no paint, no armour beyond the steady line of her posture and the flower woven into her hair. Her aqua eyes trace the black at his lids before returning to the centre of him, and she lifts her chin another fraction, voice carrying cleanly across the narrow stretch of air between their ships.

"Yours is bigger," she calls back, calm and even as the water below them seethes in molten silence, "and you’re the one who won’t want this overheard." She's watched him do this before, watched him stand against men who thought size or strength or numbers would carry them, seen how he never rushed and never raised his voice when he didn’t have to. He'd taught her more than he likely ever meant to, and she draws on it now, letting her shoulders settle, letting the tension in her jaw smooth into something measured instead of brittle.

The breeze catches the petals braided into her hair, the engagement ring flashing once in the dying light as her hand relaxes on the railing, and she holds his gaze without flinching, as if this is merely a negotiation and not a reckoning balanced precariously between two hulls suspended above a sleeping volcano.

"I'll need a way up, though."

you're 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!

JACK

Oh don't worry Flora; Jack sees the sparkly on her finger and he knows what it means, knows how it links to the petals that flutter in her braid. But two can play at impassive, and whilst the Doubletake had learned and learned impressively well, he'd still been the one to teach her. Once upon a time he might have felt pride to see her calm and defiant in the face of a clearly dangerous situation, but now? Now he just reaches for the coiled rope ladder at his feet and tosses it across to the Sugartide, forearms flexing with the weight of the fibres.

"You know how to tie a knot," he says, trusting her to tether the ends of the ladder to her own ship and clamber across. "May as well leave it tied too, in case your beau wants to chase after you." It's not even telepathy at play so much as it's bold guesswork; he doubts Flora would have actually come alone on her ship, and more than that, he doubts Kai would have let her.

There will be no helping hands from the crew this time to assist the Doubletake aboard The Ark, and Jack is already ambling across the deck, calling something to Murphy that implies keeping steady and staying busy. They don't go to his cabin this time - Flora has lost that privilege - and he leads them instead to his chartroom, a light space with an open view of the sunset filled with maps and navigational instruments. None of the maps are out today, and Jack plops into a chair and rests one of his boots lightly on the edge of the varnished table.

"I'd offer you a drink," he says when Flora joins him, rolling the sprig of bark from one side of his mouth to the other, "but I don't want to."

we've gone way too fast for way too long
and we were never supposed to make it half this far

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

flora

The crossing is short but stretched thin by the drop, and when she steps onto The Ark it isn’t the creak of wood or the scent of peppermint that hits her, but the way no one meets her eyes; crew who once would’ve smiled or waved, now too absorbed in rope and sail and sky to glance her way. It shouldn’t surprise her, and it doesn’t, but it still lands somewhere tender and unguarded, like pressing on a bruise she’d pretended wasn’t there. She follows him without asking where they’re going, but when he passes the path toward his cabin and continues on, something cool and unwelcome tightens along the inside of her throat, not enough to choke her but enough to remind her how quickly privileges can vanish. They might be estranged, they might be angry, they might be everything they are now, but they’re not strangers, and being treated like one scrapes.

The chartroom greets her with light and glass and the open blaze of sunset spilling in. As Jack drops into his chair like a king settling into a throne and props his boot on the varnished table, casual as ever, peppermint bark shifting between his teeth, his opening shot over the bow won't land quite the way he might have expected. A soft, breathy laugh slips from her before she can stop it, more exhale than amusement. "Guess I did rub off on you in the end," she says, tone light and almost conversational, meaning he'd become a petty bitch, without needing to spell it out.

For half a heartbeat, though she considers letting it devolve. Letting the sharpness come, letting herself say the things that would hurt because she knows exactly where to aim. The urge is there, bright and immediate; instead, she draws in a slow breath and turns away from him, fingertips brushing the edge of the table where her finger traces a clean rectangle in the faint layer of dust, the ghost of where a map must’ve sat until recently.

"Here are your options, Jack," she says crisply, voice steady, still not looking at him. "Kaisel and I will make a promise, before Safrin, not to share your secret. In return, you’re bound not to retaliate against either of us for knowing what you can do." Her engagement ring flashes as her hand settles against the table. "I didn’t ask to know this," she continues, controlled and precise. "And I’m sure you’d take it back now if you could. So this way, everyone can just go on their merry way about it."

Only then does she turn, her aqua eyes searching out his, bare and bright without kohl to sharpen them, the colour almost luminous in the fading light, and though his gaze is lined in black and cooled to steel, she matches it without flinching before shrugging, the motion small and almost casual. "Or," she says, the word landing cleanly between them, "we tell everyone. You’re banned from Torchline. And whatever retaliation you try to enact, I’ll make sure to double it with every bit of power at my command."

The offer stands between them, stiff and imperfect but unmistakable; he might have the bigger ship, but she has the bigger arsenal and despite the tightness in her jaw and the way her pulse drums steadily beneath her skin, this is still an olive branch extended with deliberate hands.

you're 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!

JACK

"More'n you could ever know," Jack agrees of him rubbing off on her, the absence where he might have added love at the end of his sentence louder than the ruckus of the crew at work beyond the chartroom. And for that half a heartbeat the challenge is there on Jack's face - go on, let me have it. He's dying to hear her justifications, to see the knots she ties in logic to make herself the victim of him despite the fallout of their parting landing squarely on his shoulders.

But she turns away, her fingers brushing over the table, and comes out with it: Here are your options, Jack.

His laughter scoffs out of him before he can stop himself - proof that even a telepath can be surprised - and he stifles it with a quick raise of his hand, inviting her to go on. Please, tell me Flora, what are my options.

And perhaps the moment of amusement will explain the curious, still half-there smile on his face as she lays it all out, the reason for her stepping onto his deck with purpose, the proposal in her letters. "You didn't have to keep knowin' it," he points out. How many discussions have their been among themselves and others about Ludo and its ability to remove memories? "But you did. You even shared it with one person already. Guess I rubbed off on you as well." Ruthless, manipulative, keeping an ace in her hand regardless of the detonation if it were ever played. Even crafting a backup plan in Kai, knowingly or otherwise.

His eyes only narrow a fraction at the mention of Torchline. Not the telling everyone his nasty little secret, not the doubled retaliation from what he's sure will be several big bad demigods. But the banning him from a place he's not set foot in for almost a year, the place he'd known since before she was even a sparkle in her father's eye during a Frey-induced rut.

"A'right," he says slowly, foot moving from the table so he can rest his forearms on it instead, the picture of negotiation. "Lemme parse through this, just so I understand.

"You an' soldier boy make a bindin' agreement before Safrin not to share my secret. I make a bindin' agreement before Safrin not to retaliate against you for knowin' what I can do. If I break my side of the bargain, presumably all bets are off an' you spread the word like it's fresh gossip. But what if you break yours?"

He raises his eyebrows, because there's no deal without leverage, and whilst the Captain might know a great deal more than he should, he's truly oblivious to the amount of space he takes up rent-free in their minds (and in her house, until very recently anyway). "If you break yours," he says with an air of a proposal, taking the peppermint bark from his lips, "it's like you never existed. No one remembers you - not your beau, not your friends, your family, your companion, not even the gods if that's possible. No one except for me." His smile, as expected, is particularly unkind.

"You tell everyone everythin', and you become nothin'. Sounds fair to me. Deal?"

we've gone way too fast for way too long
and we were never supposed to make it half this far

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

flora

The words slide past her, and later they’ll echo in the quiet places of her mind when she’s trying to sleep, when the house is too still and the sea too loud, but in this moment they don’t find purchase; there’s too much else pressing in to wonder in what ways she'd ever actually rubbed off on Jack. She folds her arms across her chest without pretending it’s anything but defensive, shoulders tightening beneath the thin straps of her sundress as his laughter breaks and then stifles, as he invites her to continue like she’s offering him a parlour trick instead of terms.

She holds his gaze while he restates her proposal, lets him dress it up in his own cadence, bides the chastisement about memory and choice and who rubbed off on whom with an even stare that doesn’t waver. But when he lays out his own condition, when he speaks of her becoming nothing—no Kaisel, no friends, no family, no companion, no gods—when he says only he would remember, something shifts. The colour drains from her face so abruptly it feels like the tide pulling hard from shore, leaving only the clear, bright shock of her aqua eyes and two sharp points of heat high on her cheeks. For a fraction of a second she says nothing, the threat hanging between them like a blade held delicately by the tip.

"Well," she says at last, voice steadier than she feels, chin lifting a notch higher as though the motion alone could anchor her, "if it’s going to be like that, then sure." Her arms remain folded, but her weight shifts subtly onto one hip, a gesture almost idle if not for the tension threading through it. "But only if you agree that if you break your side of the agreement, you lose either your revivify feather or your mageglass." She gives a small, almost absent shrug, something that might pass for sweetness to anyone watching this exchange on mute. "I’ll let you pick which."

you're 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!

JACK

"It ain't like that," Jack says evenly, "it's playin' for equal measures. You tell everyone what I can do and I lose everythin'. I retaliate against you and I also lose everythin' - you call in the cavalry like you already threatened, you get Caido's Justice League superheroes all lined up to take a shot at me, and you tell everyone my secret anyway." He spreads his hands. "This is a proposal, ain't it? Unless I misread your letter an' it's just blackmail in a pretty sundress." He raises his eyebrows.

"So unless you can convince me that there's somethin' else you're willin' to part with by askin' for more, I don't agree to that, no." Shaking his head, Jack sits back in his seat. "I appreciate your moxie, don't get me wrong, but I ain't signin' an agreement that's stacked against me." Unless of course, this is blackmail after all.

we've gone way too fast for way too long
and we were never supposed to make it half this far

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

flora

Flora scoffs before she can help it, tilting her head just slightly as something sweet and edged curves at the corner of her mouth. "Aw," she says lightly, "you think my sundress is pretty?" The words are almost playful, almost careless, just before the Ark shifts beneath her feet with a sudden roll that sends her stepping sharply to the side to keep her balance, hand catching the edge of the table without looking at it. "It isn't blackmail just because I have the stronger hand," she adds, wondering if perhaps Murphy was listening in, listing the ship on purpose.

"I’ve seen enough of your deals to know when you’re trying to downplay something," she says, voice cooling back into steel to match his own. "If you retaliate against me, it’s not just me on the line. It’s my friends, my family. Maybe Torchline." Her brow lifts slightly. "Keeping the people in my life safe means as much to me as your precious reputation means to you. So it already is equal."

Her arms remain folded, but her posture shifts forward by a fraction, enough to show she isn’t retreating from this. "And if you’re not considering breaking your end of things," she adds, raising that same brow again, "why are you so worried about a little extra insurance?" Things only skewed in her favour if Jack broke their agreement; if he held his end, he'd be the one on top especially seeing as he'd only lose things whereas Flora would lose her entire life.

you're 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!

JACK

If you've got the stronger hand then why do you need to make a deal at all? Jack might have asked, but he's not quite so reckless as to give up a chance to tie up a loose end in Flora (and now Kai, he supposes). The ship lists sharply, though, in such a way that Jack is suitably anchored by his posture, and he can do little more than arch an eyebrow as the Doubletake is forced to catch herself on the edge of the table.

Hissing in a breath through his teeth as if she's returned a ball he'd served to her and now he can't be bothered to chase it, Jack's boot taps softly beneath the table. He gestures with his hand as if to say fine, before curtly muttering, "The feather, then. Now if that's all your insurance outta the way, I'd like to get off the Maw before moonrise. I assume you want your sweetheart here to sign?"

If Kai can even climb the ladder to get aboard without The Ark trying to shake him loose, and Jack isn't inclined to stop any such shenanigans. Regardless, if this is where Flora wants to make the deal happen, she can feel free to call down the lady of the stars to bear witness whenever she likes.

we've gone way too fast for way too long
and we were never supposed to make it half this far

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

flora

Flora's lashes flutter, exaggerated and saccharine. “"You could always just take Kai’s word," she says in a tone sweet enough to curdle, "that he pinky swears not to tell." The Ark lists again, harder this time, and she has to catch the desk with her palm to steady herself, the sudden tilt scraping her patience thin. She glares at him openly now, certain it’s his doing, before straightening with a sharp inhale. "I'll go back to mine. I'm pretty sure the distance between our ships won’t bother Safrin."

She doesn’t wait for his response, but instead turns and walks out of the chartroom, spine straight, knowing he’ll follow in his own sweet fucking time, and crosses the deck without acknowledging the crew. The rope ladder sways between hulls as she climbs down, and the second her feet touch the Sugartide she untethers it, fingers working fast so The Ark can’t decide to drift and drag her with it. The Maw yawns below, the air warm and restless as she heads straight for the stairs and down into the dim below deck.

"Kai," she calls, breath thinner than she’d like, and the moment she sees him she reaches without hesitation, wrapping herself around him in a tight, immediate hug. "Jack agreed," she whispers, relief breaking through the seams of her composure, her body trembling faintly now that she doesn’t have to hold herself rigid. She presses her face briefly against his shoulder, inhaling like she needs the reminder of something steady and warm, before pulling back just enough to take his hand and tug him toward the stairs.

They’d talked about this ahead of time, about what he’d focus on if he felt his thoughts drifting somewhere dangerous, about keeping his mind on neutral ground, on safe loops, on anything that wouldn’t snap like a tripwire under pressure. She can only hope neither he nor Jack does something reckless in the next few minutes, that pride doesn’t flare, that the fragile shape of this agreement doesn’t splinter before Safrin can witness it.

you're 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!

When enemies are at your door, I'll carry you way from war

He pops up so quickly at the sound of his name that the chair he’d been in tips out from under him, tangling his stride for a moment in a clatter of wood and curses. ”Flora!” he calls back, urgency casting it out in a rush, one he’d like his body to keep up with. He can hear the strain in her voice, and while he desperately wants to fill in the holes with every detail, nothing tops the assurance that she is whole and well. He grips her to him, smothering the distance in an instant, taking a breath for what feels like the first time since they sailed here.

Sitting idly by has been an exercise in patience for him, one that continues even still, because there’s so much he’d like to ask right now, but this isn’t the time. As he has been doing, he places all his trust in her. While it’s here at least, he takes the moment to hold her, relieved that she has returned whole, even if shaky. At her words, a lingering tension knots and unknots, because while it’s good, it’s not yet done. Nodding into the curtain of hair along her neck, he presses a kiss there, drawing it out before it has to break. ”Let’s do this, then,” he sighs, hoping that at long last this can be put to rest.

His arms loosen from their hold around her as she shifts, the ring she’d passed off to him catching the low lighting before he tucks it into his pocket. His other hand stays contained within hers, and he stays close at her side as they go up the stairs. As the deck greets them, his fingers flex in hers with a pulse of support. He does his best to keep his gaze, and his thoughts, tightly wound around her, letting every bit of his love for her carry him through this endeavor.

Kaisel

If you need help, I'll shut down the city lights

JACK

"An' you could always just take mine," Jack retorts, his smile little more than a bitter curl of his lips. But more on that another time apparently, because when The Ark lists again and Flora pins him with that glare, he has to stop himself from petulantly raising his hands as if to demonstrate that, despite the obvious, he really is nowhere near the wheel. "Works for me," he mutters; he'd much rather not have soldier boy crawling all over his deck in any case.

And he does follow in his own sweet fucking time, yes, spending a second or two with a warm palm against the doorframe of the chartroom and a private smile on his face. When he leaves for the deck at last Flora has already disappeared back to the Sugartide, and Jack calls out the warning to expect more stars than usual in the sky very shortly. Code for don't do anything really complicated that might get you injured in the next few minutes.

By the time Flora - and Kai, presumably - return to the deck of her skyship, Jack will be sitting casually on The Ark's rail beside the rope ladder that's now fluttering like a ribbon over the side of her hull. His boots dangle precariously into the abyss below, but if the height bothers him, it doesn't show in his expression. "In your own time," he drawls around his peppermint bark.

we've gone way too fast for way too long
and we were never supposed to make it half this far

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

flora

Flora's fingers pulse back against Kaisel’s as they climb, a quiet rhythm of reassurance, and at the top of the stairs she glances over her shoulder at him, aqua eyes softening just enough to try and hold everything she can’t say aloud; gratitude, love, the steady certainty that he can get through this even if his jaw is tight and the air feels thin. She squeezes his hand once more before turning forward.

Jack is perched on The Ark’s rail like a dare made flesh, boots dangling into the abyss as though the drop beneath them is an afterthought, peppermint bark at his mouth and that lazy drawl cutting across the space between hulls. Flora meets his eyeline without hesitation, though; for all the goading, for all the bitterness curling at the edges of his smile, she still holds the stronger position. Him hating her doesn’t undo that, it just makes it hurt more.

Her chin lifts and her gaze slides past him, past the dark line of his ship, up into the bruised sky where sunset bleeds into indigo. The air feels charged, stretched thin between the two vessels hovering over the Maw, and she draws in a breath that tastes of salt and heat and something like inevitability and maybe a little bit like closure. "Safrin," she calls, voice clear and unwavering despite the tremor still ghosting in her bones, "you can already find the terms Jack and I have agreed on in my mind. If you wouldn’t mind bearing witness."

Her hand tightens subtly around Kaisel’s as she waits, shoulders squared, refusing to look back down at the abyss or over at the man who would make her nothing.

---

Flora channels for Safrin, asking her to bind the deal between the three of them.

Terms: If Flora or Kaisel tell anyone about Jack's secret, every person/animal in Caido will forget who Flora is, except for Jack.
If Jack retaliates against Flora or Kaisel on the basis of them knowing his secret, he'll lose his revivify feather.

you're 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!