light the fire bright

with each love i cut loose i was never the same

The dock creaked beneath her feet as Flora marched toward the Northaven, wind tugging at the edges of her wrap skirt and sending her curls flying like a banner of intent. The morning sun was sharp on the sea, all glitter and bite, but she barely noticed it—too focused on the ridiculous, completely real, absolutely not made-up errand she was about to deliver.

She reached the gangplank and cupped her hands around her mouth, voice ringing out over the hush of the bay: "DAAAAAAAAAD." No response. She tried again, louder this time, like the sea itself needed to know. "REMIGTON TALIESIN! You owe a god a game of hopscotch."

Somewhere on board, something clanked. Possibly a pan. Possibly her father’s dignity. "Don’t make me come up there and draw chalk outlines across the deck," Flora warned, already halfway up the ramp.

She stomped aboard like the messenger of divine foolishness she had become, muttering under her breath, "Heralds. You give 'em a spinning top and suddenly you’re delivering playground summons to demigods."

He said "I bet you don't remember me"

The scent of eggs and roasted peppers hits the deck just a second before Remi does.

Coming up the dock behind Flora, barefoot and absurdly serene considering the volume she’s projecting, the Bastion holds two foil-wrapped breakfast burritos aloft like they’re offerings to the gods—or at least to one hungry Knight. A wry smile tugs at his mouth as he pauses a few feet behind her. "You know," he says mildly, "for someone issuing divine summons, you’ve got an awful habit of yelling at the wrong person."

His curls are windswept, his shirt rumpled from sleep, and the fact that he's carrying food says he’s only just returned from town—or possibly a minor raid on a Torchline vendor who dared to close shop early. "Ronin’s inside," he adds, jerking his chin toward the Northaven. "I’m assuming this isn’t about breakfast."

He offers one of the burritos toward Flora, gaze flicking to her stormy expression. "Ludo, then?" he guesses, and though his tone remains light, there's a flash of curiosity behind the calm.

and I said "only ever other memory"

with each love i cut loose i was never the same

Flora inhales—eggs, peppers, a hint of street-cart grease—and all the righteous noise she’d been prepared to unleash evaporates in a single blissful sniff. "Okay, fine," she concedes, plucking the foil-wrapped bribe from Remi’s hand. "Divine summons require divine fuel. I’ll allow it."

She tears a corner off the burrito, steam curling up in a fragrant ribbon, then jabs it toward her father like an accusing finger. "But don’t think breakfast gets you out of this. I was yelling for you, actually."

One bite, two chews, and she swallows—eyes narrowing in dramatic judgment. "Ludo says you owe them a game of hopscotch." She lets that hang, savouring his expression almost as much as the burrito. "Yes, hopscotch. Squares, chalk, the whole playground spectacle. Apparently ‘pretty pleases’ and family connections only get me so far, so you’re up."

Flora leans a hip against the railing, half-unwrapping the rest of her breakfast. "I’d suggest settling the debt before Ludo decides to upgrade the stakes. Next time it could be double dutch, and I know Ronin would make that weirdly competitive." Then again, it wasn't as though Remi was ignorant of Ludo's petulance.

He said "I bet you don't remember me"

Remi lets out a quiet groan that could mean you’ve got to be kidding me or of course it’s Ludo, though there’s a familiar sort of affection laced beneath it. He watches her tear into the burrito like it’s divine punishment she’s bravely enduring, brows lifting in mock affront when she jabs it at him. "Apologies for not being home, but you know what Ronin is like when he's hungry," he says dryly.

The hopscotch, however, earns her his full attention—and a look of long-suffering familiarity. "I would have thought Ludo would have forgotten all about that," Remi mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose with the hand not holding breakfast. His sigh is put-upon, his expression grave as he peers out toward the sea like it might offer him escape. "Whatever you are doing for Ludo...is it something I should be concerned about?"

and I said "only ever other memory"

with each love i cut loose i was never the same

Flora waves off his worry with a half-circle of her burrito. "Nahhhhh, it's just a little quest. If it was anything important, it wouldn't have me delivering messages to you as part of my tasks." Which, knowing Ludo, strictly wasn't true, but oh well. Flora takes another bite—peppers, egg, glorious heat—then she thrusts the remainder back toward him. "Here, all yours."

Mouth still half-full, she steps back toward the gangplank, words muffled but clear enough: "Go and see Ludo and play the stupid game. Byeeeeeeeee' With that, she spins, curls bouncing, and trots down to the dock—already plotting a stupid trip to Halo and then the desert.

~FIN