who cares if it's wrong or right?

flora

Even with the sea breeze licking at her skin and the golden sun bleeding warmth into the salt-tinged air, the steps feel heavier than usual today—like each one is a petition, a quiet prayer on its own. The lighthouse rises like a needle stitched into the fabric of Torchline’s coast, its spire brushing the belly of the sky. 

Flora pushes the last door open with a sigh, stepping into the round sanctum that always feels too still and too infinite all at once. Here, the air smells of jasmine and stormlight, the silence full of weight and wonder. She doesn’t speak right away—doesn’t have to. Safrin's shrine sees her long before she says a word. The queen kneels with slow reverence, curls trailing down her back like seafoam tangled in gold. Her offering, when placed upon the altar, is thoughtfully chosen: a vial of starlit wine, glimmering faintly in the gloom, made from grapes kissed by moonlight and fermented under open sky.

"Safrin," she murmurs, voice quiet but clear, "My Dad's help me find a sailboat to live on while...well. While we sort out shit with the Family." A pause, then a wry twist to her mouth. "I was hoping you'd help me make it so that she was capable of carrying two people when she flies?" Flora might be without Jack, but that didn't mean she wanted to be alone.

How can a person know everything at 18 but nothing at 22?
Will you still want me when I'm nothing new?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

it's fine to fake it 'till you make it

The wine flares softly in its vial, catching candlelight that hadn’t been there before. A soft warmth suffuses the air as the silence bends inward—not broken, exactly, but shifted, as if the world itself holds its breath. Safrin steps into the space with the soundless grace of falling starlight, her gown whispering across the stone like a tide pulled by the moon. The shadows recoil gently from her radiance, and the scent of jasmine swells—fresh and alive. She doesn’t speak at first, only watches Flora with an expression made of soft night skies and something subtly bittersweet.

"My little queen," she says at last, voice like the moment between the hush of dusk and the first note of a song. Her eyes drift over the altar and the shimmering wine, and the faint smile that tugs at her lips is unmistakably fond. "You always bring me the finest things." There’s no scolding today, no warnings. Only the quiet understanding of a goddess who has similarly played dangerous games and lost the things she coveted because of them.

"I will bless your ship," Safrin continues, stepping forward and brushing a hand through the air, where a constellation of silver threads begins to weave themselves into the shape of a sail. "But before I do.." A star forms in the space between them, drifting downward like a snowflake before settling, unseen, into the fabric of Flora’s offering. The wine glows briefly, then stills. Safrin’s smile deepens, half-shadowed, half-luminous. as she explains what needs to be done. And then, like the tide receding, the goddess vanishes, leaving only the faint trace of moonlight and the lingering scent of starlit jasmine in her wake.

---

Flora has been given a quest! She must

1. Sail her ship in the water at night
2. Fly her ship through the air at night
3. Thread with someone who can fly and learn about aerial navigation.
4. Thread with someone else with a skyship and learn about aerial navigation

~fin

'till you do. 'till it's true.