I will pay the bill, you taste the wine

Let's not get lost in the dark blue
But darling if we do, just find me and I'll find you

Deepfrost in Haulani is winter only by Torchline’s standards, the air brisk enough to make people tug sleeves over their hands while the sea breeze still carries salt, warmth, and the smell of coffee from the nearest stall. Remi walks slowly through the town with Carlo and Calan tucked into their stroller, both boys bundled lightly beneath thin blankets, both of them wearing the grave, uncertain expressions of babies deciding whether to cause a fuss. Remi is doing his best to make sure they decide otherwise.

Two tentacles curl carefully into the stroller, one ringing a tiny star-shaped bell while the other makes a soft cloth manta ray bob and swoop above them. The motions are gentle because Remi has learned that keeping twins entertained is less like parenting and more like disarming a trap that might begin screaming at any moment. "Mm, I know," he murmurs, tucking a loose blanket edge back around Calan with one hand while still pushing the stroller with the other.

Carlo’s mouth wobbles dangerously, and the bell gives a quick, bright jingle overhead. Calan kicks once, nearly freeing himself from the blanket, and the manta ray dips at once as if in apology. He had written to Isla earlier to ask if she might join him for a walking coffee date, though he's wondering if that wasn't a bit ambitious of him, to suggest they test the patiences of three newborns.

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

ISLA

Luckily for Remi, it is only two newborns today - though he isn't to know that yet. Even so, the result is that when Isla calls her greeting to him she's already got both of their coffees in hand from the stall, a soft blue scarf whipping in the sea breeze around her neck as she hurries to join him. Winter even by Torchline's standards is still cool enough to have Ancients wearing coats and layers, and as she draws up beside him at last, she offers the cup out to him with a hand covered by matching mittens. 

"You look absolutely adorable," she tells him, clearly meaning the figure he cuts as he ambles along with the stroller and toys. "Though you'll forgive me for saying you don't hold a candle to these two." Cooing into the stroller at the sight of Carlo and Calan, Isla doesn't try to hide her delight at the two of them. What's more, she doesn't seem even a little tired around the eyes any more.

"Gods, I know babies do all tend to look a bit alike, but they really are identical, aren't they?"

apres moi le deluge
after me comes the flood

Let's not get lost in the dark blue
But darling if we do, just find me and I'll find you

The moment Remi catches sight of Isla, something boyish and unguarded breaks across his face. He slows the stroller to let her fall into step beside him, one tentacle still dutifully making the cloth manta ray swoop in lazy circles while the other pauses mid-jingle. "I should hope not," he says with a chuckle, accepting the cup from her mittened hand and lifting it close enough to breathe in the steam before taking a cautious sip, knowing just how hot Isla liked her drinks.

His gaze flicks over her properly then, taking in the blue scarf whipping around her neck, the colour in her face, the ease in her eyes. Where Remi looks as though the night has chewed him thoroughly and decided he was too stubborn to swallow, Isla seems almost lit from within, the kind of bright that speaks of sleeping through the night. His smile softens, warmed by relief as much as affection. "You look great," he says, tilting his head a little as if trying to catch the trick of it from the angle of her shoulders or the shine in her expression. "You will have to tell me your secret."

At the sound of Isla cooing into the stroller, Carlo’s fist closes hard around the ribbon he has conquered, while Calan stares up with the solemn suspicion of a tiny judge considering whether she deserves his favour. Remi glances between them, then back to Isla, his amusement deepening as he gives a self-deprecating roll of his eyes. "They are, yes. If there is such a thing as being more than identical, they are that." He nudges the stroller forward again at an easy pace, coffee balanced carefully in one hand while the tentacles resume their work. "Ronin and I have put their names on the inside of their clothing, which helps in theory, though it is still entirely possible that after every bathtime we end up mixing them up."

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

ISLA

Were it not for the tentacles and their careful work, Isla would have offered to take over the stroller for Remi so he might enjoy his coffee with both hands. Alas, such a thing might prove to be less helpful in the long run, particularly with two bright-eyed newborns who seem caught between enjoying the entertainment and threatening a tantrum at any moment. "You are too kind," Isla chimes easily at his compliment, taking a long sip of her own (very hot, yes) coffee before having the good grace to look sheepish when it comes to her secret.

"Ah, yes," she says slowly. "Well. It isn't good routine and a healthy support system so much as it's godly intervention." The admission isn't easy so much as it's quietly resolute, the result of long nights watching Ever's mental health start to fray at the seams. "Ever stopped sleeping," she explains. "It was like he couldn't switch off. So I made a decision to go and see Frey, and... well. Let's just say I'm here by myself because Fern and Ever are looking for driftwood on the beach together. It's been much easier since she's been able to tell us what she needs."

apres moi le deluge
after me comes the flood

Let's not get lost in the dark blue
But darling if we do, just find me and I'll find you

Remi’s eyebrows raise, his mouth already quirking into something boyish and faintly conspiratorial, because godly intervention could mean a great many things and, in Isla’s case, he is half prepared to hear that Dygra has blessed her with some sort of miraculous face mask capable of erasing sleeplessness and stress. The shape of his smile changes as she goes on, however.

It doesn’t vanish, exactly, but it softens into something quieter, the humour loosening its hold as his seaglass green eyes move from Isla’s face to the stroller and back again. "Oh," Remi says, and the word is gentle rather than surprised, though surprise is there too, flickering in the lift of his brows and the brief pause before he speaks again. "So Fern is now...?" He lets the question trail off rather than fill it incorrectly, his head tilting slightly, waiting for Isla to reveal the new age of her newborn.

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

ISLA

"Fern is now a wonderful, spirited and absolutely gorgeous child of nine," Isla completes the sentence for Remi, and though her smile is tinged with just a smidge of sadness for the years she'd lost in the transition, there's love enough there to infinitely make up for it. "She's been keeping track of a sear cat that goes prowling past the apartment, convinced she can make it her pet. It won't surprise me if she does," she continues with a gentle laugh. "And Ever has been amazing with her since she's been able to talk to him. He took her to the Festival of Lights up in the Greatwood at the end of last season."

Shaking her head as if realising she's been rambling, she gazes up at Remi with an adoring smile. "Things have been going really well," she admits. "We're scouting out new houses on the lower part of Haulani, so there's more space, and a garden." Letting her eyes flicker back down to the twins in the stroller, she clasps her coffee mug with both hands. "Still, I can remember her looking just like that. Except... you know. There was only one of her."

apres moi le deluge
after me comes the flood

Let's not get lost in the dark blue
But darling if we do, just find me and I'll find you

Remi inhales sharply, though there is no judgement in it, only the small, instinctive sound of surprise from a man who knows all too well what it is to blink and find your child suddenly older than they were a moment before. Mateo, Flora, and Enzo had all been aged up by the gods, and so whatever questions might have risen in someone else only settle in him as a softer understanding, threaded through with the ache of years skipped and the relief of need answered.

"Wow," he murmurs under his breath, nodding as Isla speaks of Fern and the sear cat, of driftwood and houses and the Festival of Lights beneath the Greatwood’s branches. His smile warms by degrees, losing the tired slant it has worn all morning as he listens. "All of that sounds really incredible, Isla. I am happy for you. For all of you." He nudges her shoulder gently with his own, careful with the stroller, the coffees, and the precarious arrangement of toys currently keeping Carlo and Calan from remembering their many grievances against existence.

"And when you find somewhere, let me know. I can help you move." His mouth curves, mischief returning. "Though the offer of a houseboat is always open, of course, should you decide you would rather trade a garden for the shoreline."

His eyes drop to the twins then, to Carlo’s determined hold on the ribbon and Calan’s solemn study of the manta ray, and his expression turns helplessly fond. "Of course we do not have favourite ages," he says, with the grave sincerity of someone lying, but understandably. "But Ronin really does love them when they are little like this." A laugh slips out of him then, soft and tired and brightened by affection. "Although I think even these two are testing his patience with just how loudly opinionated they can be." Not that his husband would ever admit to it outloud, of course.

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

ISLA

"I know," Isla says, her understanding still so innate when it comes to things like this between them, it's almost as if they still share that strange companion bond. "It wasn't an easy decision for me, or something I decided on a whim. But I had to take everything into consideration, not just my experience of family life." Fondly gazing back at the twins, evidently Isla would have been happy to raise Fern right into toddlerhood and beyond, but it doesn't mean for a second that she loves her any less for being nine years old.

"Thank you," she adds, in response to Remi's congratulations, and despite the coffee, the wins, the toys and the stroller, she steps in to wrap him in a quick hug, kissing his cheek before retreating again. "And I will certainly let you know. Once I'm confident that Fern is a strong swimmer maybe we'll even settle for a normal sailboat. We can visit you whatever patch of shoreline you're moored at, then."

Sipping at her coffee before she forgets about it, she hums her agreement with the lie as they both regard the twins and their various states of intrigue. "I don't blame him one bit," she says of Ronin. "But for all that, I still look at Fern and see her like this. It doesn't go away." She hardly needs to tell Remi as much either, but still. "Gosh, though. Taliesin children? With strong opinions? What a shock." She grins.

apres moi le deluge
after me comes the flood

Let's not get lost in the dark blue
But darling if we do, just find me and I'll find you

Remi’s smile turns crooked and helplessly warm, his dimples deepening as he nods. With one hand still on the stroller and the other occupied by coffee, there is no graceful way to hug her back properly, but he leans his head into the kiss she presses to his unshaven cheek, humming something soft under his breath before straightening again with a chuckle. "Perhaps you can all visit as a school of fish," he says, before his nose wrinkles slightly, and he glances sidelong at her with sudden curiosity. "Are there any fish Ancients can become?"

Remi watches his twins for a moment with the sort of fondness that makes his exhaustion look almost beside the point, because Isla is right; it doesn’t go away. Mateo might be grown, Flora might be married engaged, Enzo might be back from the dead and changed by it, but some part of Remi will always see them small enough to fit against his chest, their whole worlds no larger than his arms.

Her feigned surprise earns a snicker from him, and he rolls his eyes. "I know, I know," he says, lifting his brows at her over the rim of his coffee before taking another sip. His expression shifts then, mischief tugging at the corner of his mouth before something more complicated threads beneath it, because there are some pieces of news that cannot be offered casually no matter how dryly one tries to hold them. "Oh," he says, turning the stroller a fraction to avoid a small uneven patch in the walkway before glancing back to Isla. "Speaking of Taliesin children with strong opinions, guess who went and made herself a demigod of Safrin’s?"

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

ISLA

Isla laughs at that, shrugging her shoulders as if to say it isn't entirely implausible. "I think she may be an Attuned, so two out of three isn't bad," she says. "I will stay above the water on the wing though, I think. I feel like the best Ancients can do are lava wyrms, and they still probably won't thrive in the ocean." She doesn't want to miss any more of Fern's childhood by virtue of being a statue at the bottom of the Arclight. 

They continue to meander along together, steering around uneven ground to keep the twins happy and sipping at their coffee, and for a moment it's so unexpectedly normal that Isla isn't sure what to do with the joy she feels expanding in her chest. But as Remi offers her gossip, her eyebrows rise up beneath her curls and she tilts her head. "I can think of only one," she confesses, "though I think the world might have gone and stolen your thunder for telling me. It isn't every day the Queen of Torchline becomes known as the Hot Take, you know."

Still, her smile softens into something more careful, and her steps slow in case Remi wants to stop and talk about it properly. "Are you and Ronin alright?"

apres moi le deluge
after me comes the flood

Let's not get lost in the dark blue
But darling if we do, just find me and I'll find you

Remi raises his eyebrows at that, the sound that leaves him boyish and faintly apologetic as he glances sidelong at Isla. "Oh," he says, dimples appearing despite himself. "I thought with Everest being one that Fern would be as well."

The mention of Flora’s new title draws a long, resigned sigh from him, the sort of sigh that starts somewhere behind the ribs and leaves with its shoes dragging. His gaze flicks over his shoulder to Isla, then down to the twins. "Ronin was obviously more upset, given his history with Safrin." The words are careful, not because he needs to hide anything from Isla, but because some old wounds have edges even when they are not actively bleeding. "Neither of us were particularly happy to hear it, though."

A faint crease forms between his brows as he looks ahead, steering the stroller gently around another uneven place in the path. "And Flora did not take that well. She told us, we reacted poorly, and about a minute later she stormed out." His mouth twists, tired and self-critical.

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

ISLA

"Don't get me wrong - she may well be," Isla says with a grin that banishes any apology that Remi might be trying to make with his tone or in his expression. "And more power to her if she is. All I can tell you for sure is that she's not an Ancient." That much ought to have been very obvious, and would likely have needed a visit to Dygra rather than to Frey.

But as Remi seems to visibly deflate a bit as the subject moves onto Flora's demigodhood, Isla thinks nothing of stepping closer and reaching out to wrap an arm around the Bastion in a half hug. "We all just want what's best for our children," she says softly. "I understand that now more than ever. But... well, it's not as if Flora would have been tricked or coerced into it."

As Queen of Torchline, she has to make difficult decisions every day, after all.

"I understand, though. Especially with all you two have been through at Safrin's hands, especially." And that goes for their feelings and their knee-jerk reaction to the news. "Perhaps you can meet with her once things have cooled off a bit? It isn't her that's the problem, after all, it's the gods." The gods and their fickle, sometimes vindictive behaviour, with their chosen used as chess pieces on Caido's board.

apres moi le deluge
after me comes the flood

Let's not get lost in the dark blue
But darling if we do, just find me and I'll find you

Remi nods as Isla explains, though a small furrow appears between his brows as he tilts his head, glancing from her to the stroller and then back again. "Are you surprised that she isn’t?" he asks, meaning Ancient.

When Isla steps in close and wraps an arm around him from the side, Remi is once again trapped by coffee, stroller, and the ongoing theatre of tentacles keeping two newborns from mutiny, so he only leans his head against her for a moment, accepting the comfort with a quiet, grateful hum. The star-shaped bell gives a faint chime above Carlo and Calan, and for a second Remi watches the little toy sway as if the answer might be hidden somewhere in its bright movement.

"Is it bad that I almost wish she was?" he says at last, his voice low, the confession slipping out with a sigh. "That the offer came as some sort of trade to bring someone back from the dead, or as some way of protecting herself?" His jaw feathers briefly before he shakes his head, curls shifting in the breeze. "But just to...to agree to it..." Another sigh leaves him, heavier this time, though not angry so much as worn thin by worry. "I know she is not a child. I do know that. It is only that knowing it and feeling it are not always the same thing."

He hums under his breath, nodding faintly as the stroller rolls on at its gentle pace. "Ronin is going to go and speak to her," Remi adds, his gaze lingering ahead even as his attention stays with Isla. "I am not sure how it will go, though. He wants nothing more than to protect her, and Flora seems to want nothing more than to only ever be praised for her decisions." An unfair take on his daughter's life, perhaps, but with Isla at least he feels able to be honest.

the bastion

Styling stolen from Sky (obviously)

ISLA

"Oh, not at all," Isla says with a soft smile, her fondness for her daughter just the way she is shining through abundantly. "I knew there was a chance she might be born with horns and a tail, but I was actually relieved not to have to deal with bloodlust in a newborn. Can you imagine?" In a newborn, and in a toddler and a child? There was likely a reason Ancients were historically a violent and unpredictable race, she thinks. 

Following the path of cloth toy and star bell as the tentacles dip and weave to keep the twins from squalling down the street, she gives Remi a gentle squeeze before releasing him so he might at least be able to drink his coffee in commiseration for his daughter committing herself to Safrin in a more permanent way. "Mm, it certainly is not," she agrees, of knowing and feeling. "But although she might not have been tricked into it or offered anything for it, what makes you think she didn't do it as a means to protect herself? She's always had to call you in as the cavalry before when things got really rough."

And it isn't as though that can continue indefinitely, especially with the twins needing their fathers just as much. Isla nods gently to hear that Ronin will be taking the lead on speaking to Flora, her smile a wry thing as she glances back at Remi. "Your husband either has a silver tongue to rival the gods, or he puts his foot straight in his mouth. Let's hope it's the former when he speaks to her."

apres moi le deluge
after me comes the flood