you wouldn't know a lesson from a consequence

wish I could bottle the taste

A fine drizzle settles over Haulani’s marketplace, softening the noise without quieting it, the air thick with damp heat and the low murmur of trade carrying easily between stalls. The Ark moves through it without resistance, leather cling along her hips and the long line of her legs, her white blouse untouched by the rain that parts around her like something unwilling to land. Her hair falls in long red waves down her back, darkened only by shadow rather than water, each step unhurried, shoulders loose, as though she has nowhere particular to be.

But her attention is already fixed, drawn and held in the way a current catches something small and keeps it, her gaze resting on Kaisel with a patience that does not read as waiting so much as inevitability. She lets the space between them stretch and shift as she walks, adjusting without looking like she is adjusting, drifting closer in increments that feel accidental to anyone watching, though nothing about her ever is. Like any good predator, she is biding her time. Waiting for the right moment to strike.

Behind her, the air does not settle properly. It lingers, faint and strange, as though the sea has exhaled and forgotten to take the breath back; salt ghosting through the damp, the echo of water where there is none, something low in the chest of those she’s passed that doesn’t quite resolve into discomfort, only a subtle restlessness that turns their attention after her a fraction too late.

'cause i'd drink up the look on your face

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Kaisel

Haters on my back like a backpack

He’s just gotten off work, still dressed the part because he decided to stop at the markets before going home and stripping the day away from him. The shift started in the middle of the night, patrolling the undercity, security measures that haven’t waned, even after all this time. Unrest remains, evidence that they’re treating the symptoms rather than the cause, although not for lack of trying.

It’d been a generally boring night, except there’s a fresh ripple of gossip through the Fingers. Ruddy sails back in port. He’d stared them down the moment he’d been relieved of work, the stretch of daylight offering them in plain view, which feels intentional. A level of weariness hasn’t fully left his shoulders since stepping away from that dock, although he does his best to bury it in the hopes it’ll stick by the time he makes it home. It’s why his stride is unhurried, lackadasial even, and his smile rises often and easy to some of the passersby who offer a greeting or familiarity.

He stops for one in particular, hands slipping from his pockets to conduct an overly complex handshake. It goes on for a good minute at least, involving feet, elbows, and a few leaps and twists. ”Alright, catch ya later man!” he calls out. He makes eye contact with the red head in the distance then, but no recognition lands, so his attention scrapes right past her. He steps up to the smoothie shop, bouncing on his toes as he waits in line.

Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless

wish I could bottle the taste

The Ark doesn’t move toward Kaseil immediately, not when the distance between them still has room to be shaped, to be used, and instead her path bends just slightly, subtle as a shift in tide, until it brings her alongside a boy she recognizes from the Grey Road, all sharp edges and quick hands and the kind of hunger that never quite leaves the bones. Her fingers catch lightly at his sleeve as she passes, not enough to startle, only enough to redirect, and when she tilts her head for him to come closer it feels less like a request than the quiet pull of something deeper.

Her mouth brushes near his ear, her voice low and close, something offered rather than explained, and whatever she gives him lands quick, because his grin spreads fast and easy, all teeth and understanding, his nod sharp before he peels away from her like a wave breaking from the hull. She doesn’t watch him go, because she already knows where he’ll surface, her attention drifting back toward Kaisel with the same loose ease, her steps carrying her just a little closer, just enough.

The change comes all at once.

Wind tears through the marketplace in a sudden, violent rush, not the wandering breeze of a wet day but something abrupt and misaligned, shoving bodies sideways and rattling carts hard enough to send their contents clattering, canvas snapping, voices rising in startled protest as the air turns rough and uncooperative. It hits her a moment later, catching her broadside, and she lets it take her, lets it fold her balance out from under her in a way that looks far less deliberate than it is, her shoulder striking first before the rest of her follows, breath leaving her in a sharp, startled hitch as she goes down.

There’s a flash of movement at the edge of it; the boy, close now, too close, his hands quick at her side before he bolts, slipping through the chaos with practiced ease, gone between bodies and stalls as though the Fingers themselves have swallowed him whole.

The Ark doesn’t rise immediately, but instead she stays where she’s been thrown, the line of her body angled awkwardly against the stone, one hand braced but not quite steady, the other drawn in close as though she’s more shaken than she should be, her breath uneven in a way that carries just enough edge to it, her hair spilled forward to half-hide her face. The rain still refuses to touch her, beading and parting in the air above her skin, though it does nothing to soften the picture she makes there; caught, disrupted, something momentarily unmoored.

And beneath it, quiet and constant, there is that same pull she carries with her, the lingering trace of salt and distant water pressing faintly into the space around her, something unsettled and restless that hums just under the surface, pulling subtly at Kaisel to encourage him near.

'cause i'd drink up the look on your face

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Kaisel

Haters on my back like a backpack

Cold things are best enjoyed in dreary weather. It doesn’t seem like it should work that way, but beneath the strokes of heat, the array of cold treats feel too solid and heavy, doing little to combat the swlter. Unless they’re light and crisp enough, more water than not, they’re not worth it. This time of year though, with this type of weather, it’s like the frozen goods have their own siren song for his willpower.

Although, the cut of the wind suddenly makes the idea of a smoothie unappaetizing, the chill sharp and abrupt as it bleeds right through his jacket and curls taut into his skin. His teeth tighten, body stiffening against the invisible shove, but he’s got to do more than brace. The ripple of outcry and chaos has him moving to assist, helping steady someone who staggers and reaching out hastily to rein back a decorative streamer that twists like a phantom cloud wyrm. ”It’s fucking wimdy!” he bellows as they all work to endure.

Chasing after a particularly evasive runaway, Kaisel grabs hold of the paper lantern just in time to see The Ark keel over. ”Oh shit!” Abandoning the flimsy light he hustles over to her, crouching down and extending a rain-dotted coat arm for her to brace on, or use to crawl up, in which case he’d rise with her. ”Are you alright lady? You got knocked around pretty good.” Barely waiting for a response, his gaze starts to coast around her for sign of injury.

He assumes she slipped on moist ground, that working in tandem with the wind for a combined effort of ‘fuck you’. He figures her pride is bruised more than anything, although falls are more deadly than people realize, but she’syoung enough not to have to worry about that too much yet. Salt creeps in as he inhales, assumedly rolling off the ocean with the shift of the wind, a likely sign that a larger storm is brewing.

Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless

wish I could bottle the taste

Something in The Ark stills as Kaisel turns toward her, a subtle tightening beneath the surface, like a current drawing inward before it breaks, the shape of him settling into her awareness not as a surprise but as a point she has already charted. It flickers there for only a moment, that low, predatory alignment, before it smooths away entirely, leaving nothing behind but the soft disarray of someone caught off-balance.

Her lashes lift as he closes in, the blue of her eyes brightened by the damp light, unfocused for just long enough to sell the haze of it before they find him properly, anchoring there as though he is the first solid thing in the aftermath. When she reaches for him it is not immediate, her hand hovering for a breath as if uncertain of its own strength, before settling against his arm with a light, trembling pressure that leans more than it grips.

"I—" The word falters, her voice catching in a way that feels unpracticed, as though the wind has stolen more than just her footing, and she swallows before trying again, softer this time, closer. "There was a boy—he said he wanted to show me something, and then there was all that—" her breath hitches, a small, incredulous sound slipping through as she glances briefly at the unsettled air around them, "—wind, and he was just gone, and so was my purse."

Her weight shifts more fully into him as she speaks, not collapsing outright but allowing just enough of herself to sag that it feels like the effort of staying upright is something she is losing ground on. Her shoulder brushes into him, her balance tethered there as though she has nowhere else to place it, leaving her instead with that same soft, disordered impression, something momentarily shaken loose.

"I think—" Her gaze drops, following the line of her own body to where one leg remains slightly twisted beneath her, the angle just wrong enough to catch the eye, and when she shifts it there is a sharp intake of breath, a quiet, pretty sound pulled tight with discomfort as her fingers curl faintly against his sleeve. "I think I rolled my ankle—" The movement is small, controlled, but she lets the reaction bloom larger than it needs to, her breath catching again as she tests it, the faintest tremor running through her as she stills, as though even that was too much. When her eyes lift back to him they are wide, open in a way that invites rather than demands, the line of her mouth softened by something that reads as uncertainty rather than design.

"Can you help me up?"

'cause i'd drink up the look on your face

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Kaisel

Haters on my back like a backpack

Concern doubles down in the creases of his features. The more he looks at her, the more rattled she appears, as if not merely knocked over but stolen from standing, the landing different enough that an accident becomes trauma, a mistake becomes loss. It’s an abrupt vulnerability that she wears, as though someone close to her had yanked her down instead of just the impressively unbiased might of the world.

If there’s any doubt, it vanishes the instant she takes his arm. It’s so light, he has to glance down to confirm it’s there, little more than a feather instead of a hand. The frailty is something he at once wants to shelter, as if in her something good can still be guarded against the hostilities that abound. ”What?” he breathes, the surprise drawing his brows up, features tightening with fresh distaste. ”Thieves will find any opportunity they can,” he mutters, gaze following hers like he might see someone acting shady enough to target. ”What’d he look like? I can track him down. I’ll need a description of the purse too.”

His attention refocuses as she leans in more fully, and he brings his other arm around as added support to her shoulder. As she fumbles forward into him, alarm spikes anew, and he catches her with the brunt of his body. ”Eaaaasy,” he murmurs, speaking to her with the low reassurance one might a dazed dove that’s struck a window. His gaze traces hers to the ankle, and he figures the angle is too bad for him to catch a good view, because at first glance it doesn’t seem nearly swollen or crooked enough. With little reason to doubt her, he finds fault in himself, and quickly smooths out that wrinkle.

”Yeah, I got you.” He shifts, getting his legs better under himself in preparation to rise while he gathers her. He slings her arm around his shoulders, one hand slipping around her side, the other bracing beneath her knees. Hoisting her up as he stands, tilting her weight into his chest, he glances about. ”C’mon, we’ll get you some fountain water.” Surely someone had a bottle around here somewhere.

Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless

wish I could bottle the taste

The breath she lets out is soft and unsteady, a quiet exhale that seems to sink rather than leave her, her head tipping faintly as though she cannot quite make sense of the way the moment has unfolded. "I thought Torchline was supposed to be safe," she says, the word drawn just slightly, not sharpened into accusation but held there between them with enough weight that it settles, her eyes lifting to his as if the answer might be found somewhere in the space he occupies, something he might correct if only he reached for it.

Her gaze slips away a fraction, her mouth pressing thin before easing again, and the next words come quieter, nearly lost beneath the lingering noise of the market but shaped clearly enough to find him all the same. "Maybe I won’t move here." The thought hangs there only a moment before she seems to catch herself, her throat clearing gently as she nods, pulling the thread back into something more manageable. "I only saw him for a second, but—I can try. I’ll do my best."

When he shifts to lift her, she yields to it easily, her arm settling around his shoulders as though it belongs there, her weight folding into his hold with a softness that feels less like being carried and more like being gathered. The contact draws closer than it needs to, her body aligning to his in a way that is subtle but unmistakable, her fingers resting against his shoulder not as a grip but as a presence, light and deliberate.

Her hair spills with the motion, those long red waves sliding forward and catching the damp air without ever truly succumbing to it, brushing faintly against him as he brings her up, the faint scent of salt deepening in the space between them. She turns her face toward him then, just enough, her lips curving into something small and warm despite the strain she lets linger in the rest of her, wine-dark and parted slightly as she draws in a careful breath. "I’m so lucky you came along," she murmurs, the words soft and touched with something that trembles at the edges, her voice dipping low in a way that feels less like speaking and more like something slipping quietly beneath the surface.

'cause i'd drink up the look on your face

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Kaisel

Haters on my back like a backpack

Trying not to immediately think of the underground network of thieves and sea scum that rot the Fingers, especially these days, Kaisel instead grimaces at the reality of what still lurks above ground. ”Safety is relative, I’m afraid.” Compared to other options, this is about as safe as it fucking gets, and for that maybe she should be thankful she only lost her purse and not her life along with it. He doesn’t think it worth pushing the ideas of what could have happened into her already rattled mind.

Although it’s still on the heels of her fears, the chance for a topic change is one he leaps to grab, using her words like something of a crutch to steady her. Distractions to pull her from her worry, to keep her breath moving. ”Where you from?” The question cuts clean over the wound, bright and eager to know more of her, a quiet insistence that she matters.

”Whatever you can remember will help,” he reassures as they rise. She’s like collecting water in a cupped hand, languid and loose, curling into every part of him. It’s so easy to hold her, although it doesn’t seem like it should be. Not for size, but for a depth to her that he can’t fully ascertain, the edges of understanding it always just out of reach, flickering like a haze in the corner of his awareness. It’s something about her, fierce in a way too at odds with everything right before him, or perhaps it’s just really good hair care.

A laugh does its best to disperse the easy praise, trying not to let it stick and grow. ”Oh, pffft, no. Anyone would have done the same.” Except he’s the one who did it, so his smile keeps a bit of the pride. ”C’mon, I can set you down at the smoothie tables. I bet they use healing water in them and that’s why they taste so good.” The area isn’t far, and he swings her with him as he turns to head there, glancing down over the tide of red that blooms in his arms. ”I’m Kaisel, by the way.”

The smoothie seating is just a cluster of round, wooden picnic tables, but it’ll do to put her somewhere other than the street, aware every moment he wastes the thief gets further away. ”So what’s the purse look like?”

Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless

wish I could bottle the taste

The Ark lets the question drift through her like something only half-caught, her attention lingering instead on the way he holds her, on the steadiness of it, the ease, as though she has always belonged in the space between his arms. "I’ve been all around," she murmurs, her voice softened by distance rather than uncertainty, her gaze slipping briefly past him as if tracing coastlines only she can see. "But most recently... the east."

A sigh follows, low and drawn, not dramatic but weighted just enough to suggest something quietly disappointed beneath it, her lashes lowering before she looks back at him, that same softness returning with a faint tilt of her head. "It’s a shame," she adds, almost absently, though the words land with intention all the same, "I was really hoping Torchline would work out, but I guess the rumours about this place are true."

Her eyes settle on him again as he brushes off her gratitude, and this time there is something slower in it, something that lingers just a breath longer than politeness requires, the faintest pull of something deeper threading through the look as her lips curve. "Well," she says, her tone light but warm, "I’m glad it was you, then." The words slip easily into place, and she lets them stay there, watching how they land before she shifts faintly in his arms, a small adjustment that presses her closer without ever seeming to try.

At the mention of the smoothie stand she nods, the movement subtle but felt, her weight settling more comfortably against him as though she’s already decided to trust where he takes her, as if he's the sort of man who exudes trustworthiness. When Kaisel gives his name, she repeats it slowly, tasting the shape of it, letting it roll across her tongue with a softness that lingers just slightly at the edges. "Kaisel…" she hums, a faint smile touching her lips as her gaze lifts to meet his again. "It’s nice to meet you."

His question pulls her attention just enough to shift the moment naturally, her expression flickering with a small crease of thought before she answers. "He couldn’t have been more than fourteen, maybe fifteen," she says, her brow knitting faintly as if trying to pin the memory down. "Dark hair… quick."

"And the purse—" She hesitates, glancing down as though measuring it in her mind before lifting her hands to show him, which proves more complicated than it should be given how she’s draped around him. Her arm remains looped at his shoulders, forcing her to lean in further as she brings her other hand up, shaping the size between them, the movement drawing her closer against him in a way that feels incidental rather than deliberate. "Just tan, with a little golden clasp," she adds softly. "About this big."

Her hands fall away again, settling back against him as the effort seems to take something out of her, her shoulders dipping slightly as she exhales. "It wasn’t much," she admits, her voice thinning just a touch, "but it had all the money I had in it." Her gaze lifts once more, open and faintly strained, her mouth softening at the edges as she looks at him. [asy]"I can’t even pay for the smoothie."

'cause i'd drink up the look on your face

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Kaisel

Haters on my back like a backpack

It surprises him a bit to hear she’s been to so many places. She seems to him like an overly sheltered girl, royalty maybe, if he had to guess, pampered and coddled often. Both could be true, he supposes, if she’d traveled from the confines of the same well guarded carriage and ship, catching only glimpses of passing scenery and calling it visiting. He wonders where her guards are now, then. ”Oh, a world traveler,” he commends, approval lightening his tone, inspiring her to be proud of her accomplishments, even if they seem so very few. This version he builds of her lines up well with her inability to remember the names of where she’d been, only the general direction. ”The Greatwood?” he ventures, thinking maybe he could jog it free of her memory.

Easily baited on the average day, especially when he’s no idea there’s a hunter afoot, Kaisel’s eyebrows climb for a moment. ”What rumors?” An easy laugh follows suit, whatever worries he briefly had dispersing with that breath. ”I will admit, there’s sand everywhere and it does stick to everything. Besides that though, yes, we’re the largest and busiest port, have the nicest weather year round, and have the cutting edge of comfort. We even have a lucky rum fountain, incredible parties, and top tier smoothies.”

Her gaze is an arresting thing, and all the easy breezy carefree nature is inclined to freeze beneath it. She is, unrepentantly gorgeous of course, but it’s more than that which tightens him whenever her eyes hold him so completely. The sea is beautiful too, but he does not respect it for beauty alone. Nothing aligns properly though, because she seems as capable as a wet piece of paper, and whatever depth he sees in the fringes of her is surely imagined. He tries to push it back with a smile, the familiar shape finding his features easy in response to her continued gratitude.

Setting her down gently, he remains crouched by the bench until he’s sure her weight is transferred and she’s settled. No sense in causing her to tumble again, although he might start to question head injuries if that’s the case. ”Just so you know,” he draws it out casually, trying not to hurt her feelings. ”I am mar—rily engaged.” The slow dawn of understanding had come on the heels of the way she said his name, the rest suddenly making sense when he’d carried her. ”I’m just trying to make sure you’re okay, nothing more.” What a trope, for the damsel to fall in love with her savior. He’d have to get used to dealing with this if he continues onward and upward to heroism.

Trying to ease her into the reality that they cannot be anything more, his smiles come quick and full, and he nods attentively to her descriptions of the boy and the purse, touch lingering on her shoulder for stability in body and heart. ”Don’t worry, I’ll take care of all of it. Starting with the smoothie. Any flavor preference? I’m partial to their strawberry pineapple.” He pops up to his full height then to put in their orders, stressing her need for healing.

Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless

wish I could bottle the taste

Her brow knits faintly at his guess, the expression small but unmistakably corrective as she shakes her head. "The Greatwood is north of here," she says gently, but not sharp enough to embarrass him. "No...most recently, King’s End."

He asks about what rumours she meant, just as she knew he would, and there is a soft shift in her expression, something that dims slightly, like light slipping beneath a cloud, her shoulders easing in a way that reads as resignation rather than calculation. "Well," she begins, her voice lowering, threaded with a quiet disappointment that feels lived-in rather than performed, "I heard that the leader of this region is the reason the man who had been keeping the undercity in check is gone."

Her gaze slips briefly past Kaisel, skimming the market not as a participant but as someone measuring its fractures, her sigh faint but deliberate. The Fingers had not quieted in Jack's absence; if anything, they had split open wider, the old order dissolving without anything strong enough to take its place, leaving scraps of control fought over in shadows that spilled further into the streets with each passing day. "It seems like things haven’t gotten any better," she adds, almost to herself, before her nose wrinkles just slightly, an expression of mild, almost innocent distaste. "If anything, it doesn’t feel as safe as it used to."

When her eyes return to him, they are wide, clear, and searching, holding the shape of a question he cannot quite answer, the kind that presses at the edges of pride and responsibility alike. "It’s hard to enjoy all of that," she continues softly as he lists some of Torchline's accolades, her tone lightening just enough to keep from sinking the moment entirely, "when you get mugged just trying to go for a walk."

The shift that follows is subtle but intentional, her attention catching again on him as he speaks of being engaged, her brows lifting in quiet surprise. "Oh?" The word is soft, curious, but the look that follows it is anything but, her gaze settling on him with a warmth that deepens rather than retreats, something slow and deliberate threading through it as her lips curve. "What a shame." A quiet laugh slips from her, low and easy, her head tilting just slightly as though amused by the shape of things rather than deterred by them. "I suppose that makes you all the more of a hero, then," she adds, her tone feather-light and full of flattery, "helping me without wanting anything in return."

When he asks about the smoothie, she doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she lets the pause stretch just long enough to feel considered, her teeth catching lightly at her lower lip as though she’s weighing the choice more carefully than it deserves, the motion slow, almost absent, though nothing about it is unintentional. "Maybe.." she murmurs, her gaze lifting back to his, "just molten pineapple for mine."

'cause i'd drink up the look on your face

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Kaisel

Haters on my back like a backpack

”Northeast” he adds, although she’d probably have said the first part if that’s what she meant, but because his geography is limited to the very poor skills of his writer, he’ll consider anything not west of here, east. Maybe not the best argument to get into with a sailing vessel, not that he knows that. ”You don’t say?” he offers instead as step forward out of that particular bog. ”I used to live in King’s End, whd’ya think of it? A little spooky, right? I also heard there’s hair bandits there, looks like you escaped them though.” Weird thing to steal, but go off bandits.

The way she darkens makes his smile drop at once. There’s clearly something more here, perhaps some trauma not as buried as she thinks, or maybe he’s so used to safety and has been trying to shrug it off his whole life he doesn’t recognize the way she really wants to fold it around her. He softens, knowing when something is too delicate to make light of, however well-intended.

At least, he planned to. As she describes it though, he can’t quite contain the incredulous stretch of his grin, the joke she never meant tickling him thoroughly. ”Jack?” he says on a breath close to a laugh. ”Dunno where you heard that from, but his choices, like all of ours, are his own.” Kaisel snorts, not sure how the story got so twisted as to be framed like that, planting Flora at fault for choosing to love someone else. ”Truth is, he shipped out when he got rejected. Whatever reason he tried to pin on her, is really just his own.” Not that Kaisel necessarily disagrees with that move, for many reasons.

Maybe he’s too in the thick of it all to see it the way she describes. Working each day to button up the spillage of mayhem that is to some extent the natural order of seedy city bellies. ”We have Caido’s strongest demigods within our borders, and a leader smart enough to trick The Family, and capable enough to survive them more than once.” It’s spoken with the unflappable conviction of someone who believes his claims. It’s the truth as much as it’s the safety net here. He refuses to feed into the fears that the undercity is out of control, or that it’s gotten worse. Delusional to some degree, but intentional. He need not scare her with honesty, nor divulge city secrets, and personally, he thinks they’ll have it in hand soon. He’s been saying that, but he refuses to give one man, Jack especially, enough power to be the anchor for their whole region. If they really wanted to, they could resolve this issue, but they’re doing some trial and error.

”Used to?” he repeats, gladly swinging away from the city’s grime. ”So you’ve been here before then?” He brightens, ”what was your favorite thing then?” Maybe it’d reinspire some hope for her, because truly this place is the best. She’ll have to come to see that on her own though, because being told never does the trick of convincing someone.

With his status set between them like a shield, he is only mildly surprised that she still leans against it. There seems to be no shortage of women undeterred by labels. A short laugh parts from him as she continues on. ”Your standards are so wildly different it’s kinda insane. You want a city free of crime, but all your heroes need to do is help you up?” He quirks a brow, trying to ensure he has the shape of it right. Still, he puffs up a touch at being labeled a hero, however falsely earned he thinks it is. He has done plenty of other very heroic things that never got recognition, so this feels like a proper trade.

His patience for smoothie selection is limitless. He understands the value of this decision, and he’d never rush her for it. ”One molten pineapple coming up!” he claims proudly, slipping away to grab them for a moment.

Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless

wish I could bottle the taste

There’s a flicker there at the mention of hair bandits, brief and unreadable, something that tightens and releases before it ever settles into anything visible, her gaze passing over him as though recalibrating something small and private, silently wondering how anyone could go from Jack Barclay to this. It dissolves quickly, her mouth curving again, easy and bright as she shakes her head. "No," she says lightly, "I found it a little too slow-paced for my liking, and there were far too many fires."

When he laughs—when he says Jack’s name like that—her expression doesn’t sharpen, doesn’t bristle, only softens into something faintly puzzled, as though she’s trying to follow a current that keeps shifting direction beneath her feet. She lets him speak, lets him offer his corrections, her shoulders lifting in a small, indifferent shrug when he finishes. "Well, obviously you know more about it than I do,' she murmurs, her tone yielding without resistance. "I just know the word on the street is that it reflected badly on your queen as a leader."

The Ark's gaze lingers on him a moment longer, thoughtful rather than challenging, before it drifts aside again, her attention brushing over the market as though measuring its edges against what he’s said. When he speaks of demigods and strength and cleverness, something in her expression shifts again—not disbelief, not outright—but a quiet, careful doubt, the kind that wants to believe but cannot quite anchor itself there. "Maybe," she allows, the word soft, uncommitted, before her head tilts just slightly. "But they haven’t seemed to address the undercity at all." Not in a way that was effective, at least. Not like Jack had.

The thought settles between them with a casualness that belies its weight, her shoulders lifting again in a loose, almost apologetic shrug. "I don’t know," she adds, her tone gentler now, as though smoothing the edges of what she’s just said, "I guess I just think it’s a shame that a breakup could impact such a nice place to live like that, you know?"

Kaisel's question pulls something brighter from her, the shift immediate and easy, her smile blooming in a way that feels entirely unguarded, like sunlight catching clear water. "Definitely the ocean." The word seems to sit more comfortably on her tongue than anything else she’s said, her expression lighting with a kind of effortless certainty.

At his challenge, she lets out a soft, breezy laugh, her head shaking as though the answer is obvious. "It isn’t insane at all," she says, her tone light but sure. "If the city really was that safe, then all there would be for heroes to do is help people up when they fall." Her grin lingers as she says it, easy and bright, her gaze following him as he steps away, the space he leaves behind shifting subtly in his absence, that faint trace of salt and distant water pressing lightly into the air around him, beckoning him back to her side.

'cause i'd drink up the look on your face

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Kaisel

Haters on my back like a backpack

Fighting off the complete roll of his eyes that threatens, they only make it about halfway, more like an ocular sigh than anything. "Yeah, well, pretty weird words to listen to. Wouldn't put much stock in mutters that blame the queen, who has given so much for the region, rather than The Captain who sailed away and left them high and dry in the first place." His voice has grown a bit tighter as he places the words down, gruff with a disapproval that he tries to keep from fully settling on her, knowing her just the messenger. Not that he'd take Flora slander well period, but in comparison to Jack glorification, it rankles something awful.

Trying to bury the grim mood that's creeping up with a forced laugh, the breath sure to shake it away with enough force, Kaisel just digs his heels into the disagreement. "Dunno what shady tour guide you found that told you all this, but trust that Remi and Ronin could handle the undercity just fine. " Decimate it, surely, and cost plenty of seedy lives, but they could do it if the need rose big enough. He rather assumes that they're allowing the thieves to continue to sort themselves out. A power vacuum will always find a new leader to crown. If that leader then gets shanked the next day, well, one less scumbag to worry about in the long run.

Confident that Ronin and Flora have a plan and a handle on it, Kaisel doesn't let the worry nest. "Dunno, I love it here just fine." he says easily, and maybe because he'd never lived here beforehand he can't truly compare it the way she is, or maybe because chasing down hooligans every shift is way more fun than marching up and down Stormbreak's walls, but he's content. "Even better with Jack gone." For obvious reasons.

The way she immediately shifts is a welcome sight, and as if he means to let it be infectious, Kaisel turns his sights towards the ocean to capture some of the very same inspiration. It will have far less effect on him, unfortunately. "Yeah, it is nice," he agrees with a smile grown lopsided, one side still trying to catch up to the idea that the sea is the best thing here. Clearly she and he are very different. "I like the parasailing the most when it comes to the ocean. The people here are the best part of the city though, in my opinion." Certainly it started with the Doubletake, but the much more carefree nature of this place suits him. "That, and just the city as a whole. I came from another nice one, but nothing really beats this place." Even the sand was acceptable now.

Her explanation has him shaking his head as he departs, chuckling under his breath in the way someone a little disbelieving does. Not willing enough to push back, instead letting it melt into humor. He'd do her one better than help her up, returning with what is truly heroic, a tasty treat in hand. The eagerness to come back is surely just the need to tend to her wounded ankle and be on his way after the thief. "Molten Pineapple for the laaady," he announces with a put-on voice and show of displaying her smoothie out for her to claim, his strawberry delight held aloft on his other palm like some prize artifact on a pedestal. "Take a sip and let me know how your ankle feels," he instructs, not about to leave her side if she can't walk.

Blowin' up I'm fucking flawless