all things end

flora

Hak Etme shimmered below like a copper-gold mirage, heat rising in visible ripples even this high in the sky. La Verbena drifted on a pocket of scorched air, her bright sails snapping lazily while Flora stood at the wheel—bangles clinking, curls braided tight against the wind, face sheened with LongHeat sweat. Mateo lounged beside her, all casual confidence and very little help, except for the new pendant resting against his chest: a star-dark pendant, given by Sunjata (via Hadama/Deimos and via Jack) to ward off void creatures (only on Starfall, the pair would soon learn).

"Jack fucked Safrin for that," Flora called over the wind. "Said it was meant to keep the void creatures away when they went to Starfall."

La Verbena began to tip low enough that sand’s radiant heat licked at their ankles. Flora pointed ahead: three stout dream-cacti bristled emerald among dune ridges, pale mauve blossoms nodding like tiny crowns. "There." She feathered the sails, easing the little schooner to a hover barely twenty feet above the dunes. The heat slapped upward, thick and dry. "I’ll keep her steady. You grab the ladder, bag some tines, and we’re gone before the sun cooks our brains."

My house of stone, your ivy grows
And now I'm covered in you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Mateo

Champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between

Mateo, thank you very much, has informed his sister that if she wants to learn how to pilot properly, it would be silly of him to offer her any real help - and not only because he'd be next to useless even if he tried. Besides, it's fucking hot out here, the botanist lounging on the bench beside her with the full intention of topping up the tan he'd obtained out in Torchline over the past couple of seasons. Shirtless and in a pair of pink wayfarer sunglasses, the dark pendant sparkles ominously against his olive skin, though it matches well with the silver nipple piercing he's recently obtained, if he does say so himself.

"Did he?" He cackles, peeking down at the necklace over his glasses. "Never worn god-whore level jewellery before. Nice." Rolling to sit up and stretch as he feels Flora angle them downward, Mateo reaches below the bench to draw out a pair of sleek, dark brown leather gloves, slipping them onto his hands and flexing his fingers. He might only be in a pair of lotus flower shorts and flip-flops, but he doesn't fuck around with handling dream cactus barbs.

"You got it," he trills, grabbing the ladder and tossing it over the side of his ship, before tipping his sister a wink and hoisting himself over the side. "Do not miss me too much while I am gone, okay?"

I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm

flora

Flora watches him go with an expression that walks a tightrope between fond and exasperated, one hand still wrapped around the wheel and the other lifting to shield her eyes from the glaring sun. The sight of her brother in flower-print shorts, pink sunglasses, nipple piercing gleaming like some smug beacon, and leather gloves to top it all off… well, it’s certainly not the weirdest thing she’s seen on this ship.

"Just don’t fall off and get yourself skewered please,” she calls after him, voice half-laced with laughter. “Or worse, sunburned."

The wind tugs at her braid as she adjusts their hover with a few deft pulls, her bangles rattling like wind chimes with each shift. Sweat slides in lazy rivulets down her spine, soaking into the back of her bikini top, and Spice—curled in a patch of shade under the rigging—lets out a disapproving trill.

"I know," she mutters to the dragon. "It’s too hot for this shit."

Flora's fingers tighten on the wheel, keeping La Verbena steady above the dunes. The sails creak faintly, flaring with the heat-glossed breeze, and for a moment it almost feels peaceful—if you ignored the fact that they were probably one wrong gust from being skewered, roasted, or void-picked.

"God-whore level jewellery," she repeats under her breath with a smirk. "Classy." Then, louder: "Don’t be dramatic, I’ll only cry for five minutes if something eats you." Her voice softens into the dry hush of the desert air. "Maybe ten."

My house of stone, your ivy grows
And now I'm covered in you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Mateo

Champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between

"I do not get sunburned," Mateo calls back to his sister, outraged. "Not all of us were born with your sad, pale complexion, you know." Some of them were dreamed up and stamped to life by trickster gods, which, he likes to think, gives him certain perfections where otherwise there ought not to be any. (Too bad not one of his parents thought he ought to be nearer to 6ft in height, but there we go).

Still, however gorgeous his golden tan might end up, Flora is absolutely right - it is too hot for this shit. And so Mateo doesn't intend to waste any time, and whilst the Doubletake won't see him, she'll know he's up to some fuckery by the way the ladder remains taut; it's because he's kept one leg hooked into a rung in case of emergencies, i.e. having to get the fuck out of dodge really quick.

"Hey, Flora?" he calls not a minute later, busy placing the barbs from a plump looking dream cactus into a leather pouch for her. "You know you said that necklace protects you on Starfall?" Waiting for a second as if expecting her to uh huh back at him, Mateo continues. "Guess where we are not?"

Ergo, isn't this void repelling necklace real fucking useless out here?

I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm

High above the rippling sands, a common cloud wyrm now bears the unmistakable mark of the void. Its once-playful, puffy form is tarnished by a sickly, violet luminescence. As it breathes clouds that drift lazily across the barren plains, those ephemeral vapors twist into ghostly shapes, whispering secrets of ancient cosmic despair. The creature’s many eyes, now clouded by the corrupting influence, watch silently, each glance a chilling reminder of the void’s pervasive reach.

Spying you, it bristles, cloaking itself in a cloud of hazy purple before flying lower.

As Hak Etme has been taken over by the Family, remaining in this area will be dangerous as the flora/fauna will continue to grow increasingly hostile toward you. Remaining in this thread for a prolonged period of time will likely trigger a KQ.

---

You’ve encountered Void Infected Cloud Wyrm. This counts as an uncommon creature encounter for the purposes of levelling, but does not count as a Random Event for levelling or MP. There will be no further admin/re intervention. If you choose to follow this creature, you do so at your own risk, however, just having it in this thread is enough to satisfy your levelling requirements.

flora

From her post at the wheel, Flora grins at Mateo’s indignant yell. "Sad and pale?! Excuse me, this is sun-kissed royalty, thank you very much!" she shouts back, though her laugh is short-lived.

Because the moment his voice drifts back, something in her gut goes cold—despite the smothering desert heat. She doesn’t even need to respond. Not with the sky above shifting like a fever dream, that telltale wrongness creeping in across the sails as the cloud wyrm reveals itself. The pulse of purple fog, the shimmer of too-many eyes—she knows that kind of taint too well.

"Oh fuck me sideways," she mutters, heart lurching.

"Mateo, hustle!" Flora’s voice cracks sharp across the wind, her hands already moving—one twisting the silver band on her finger, disappearing from sight even as her other jerks the sails to catch the wind. La Verbena shudders beneath her grip, the helm hot beneath her palms. "Climb, now! Get back on board!"

She doesn’t waste time watching to see if he obeys. The air hums with pressure, the void-laced wyrm descending like a storm made personal. Flora sets her jaw, preparing to wrench La Verbena into motion the second Mateo’s feet are on the deck.

"Void warding my ass," she spits under her breath, already plotting the fastest course out of this desert hellhole. Fucking Jack.

My house of stone, your ivy grows
And now I'm covered in you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Mateo

Champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between

"Intentionally sun-kissed," Mateo hollers back as he draws the string tight on the little pouch and ties it in a practiced knot. "What you see here is au naturale, Flora." And although he already knows things are rapidly getting more dangerous, as he hears his sister's muttered curse and gets himself properly situated back on the ladder, he can't help but to call out a "No thank you, much as I believe you would be great!"

No fucking family sideways, upright, or any other which way, thank you very much.

Swaying sharply with the manoeuvring of his ship under Flora's (rapidly more skilled) direction, the botanist is left clinging to the ladder and indeed hustling up it as they try to rapidly backtrack out of the void wyrm's range. "I got it," he yells, scrambling back up and onto the deck, having lost a flip-flop on the way but considering it adequate payment if they get away with their lives. "I assume you are invisible, so go!"

Fucking Jack, indeed.

I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm

flora

Flora yanked the wheel hard to starboard, La Verbena lurching like a startled bird as her sails snapped taut with wind. Grace be damned—she needed altitude and distance, now. The air shimmered with heat and void-touched pressure, and the Doubletake didn’t even glance back to confirm the wyrm’s position; the sickly ripple of its presence was enough to keep her foot heavy on the rudder pedal, every rope-line singing under strain.

She twisted her invisibility ring again once they’d cleared the worst of the desert’s currents, shimmering back into view with a scowl that could have curdled rum. "Gods, I bet he just fucked Safrin and picked up some shiny little trinket on his way out," she muttered, dragging a hand through her windblown curls. "Wouldn’t even surprise me if it came in a souvenir box."

The ship groaned as Flora banked toward the Greatwood’s skyport, finally levelling them into smoother air, the shimmer of trees rising like a promise on the horizon. "We’re getting lunch," she called to Mateo, not bothering to look back. "I’m not nearly dying over dream cactus and not getting something fried for my trouble."

And with La Verbena gliding toward safer skies, the desert heat behind them and an appetite building in her stomach and her temper, Flora allowed herself to breathe again. Not relief—just breathing—which was basically close enough.

~FIN

My house of stone, your ivy grows
And now I'm covered in you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!