Baby in the sun like the Teletubbies

// Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars //

Kaisel steps off the skyship with a sigh, marching to his fate with all the enthusiasm of a dog that's aware this is very much the veterinary clinic and not the park. Koa, his parents, and every commander of the Dragoons had already given him a stern talking to (I'm not mad I'm just disappointed included), so to hear it, yet again, from her feels a bit like he's been strapped to a chair and forced to listen to the same song on repeat until he cracks and fesses up to where the toy he stole seven years ago is hidden. If he holds out though, at least this time there'll be gummy worms.

Although, truth be told, he's maybe the most scared of her.

Koa is scary in his own right, all sourpuss and protocol. His parents are just emotional and never know when to put it to bed, so it drags on for days. Flora though? She might actually kill him. Just to be safe, he glances skyward as he makes his way down the dock, on the hunt for a divebombing Spice assault that would indicate the Doubletake is nearby, commanding like some deranged officer. There's also the tell-tale signs of her stained glass sales that practically scream for attention, and he pulls his shades down lower on his nose to better spot the vibrant hues among the other drab fabrics the harbor boasts.

He adjusts his pack on his shoulders, restless to be done with the lecture. He pauses to lean on a railing, his alligator-patterned button-up shirt flapping open over his white tank-top. His hot-pink swim trunks reflect blindingly against the water back up at him, so he shifts to set his back to the railing, scanning the sky once again for a little white dragon of doom.

Kaisel

// I could really use a wish right now //

lay your soul onto mine

One of the most difficult things about being banned from half of Torchline was that it meant Flora couldn’t just go get things anymore. Case in point: gummy worms. The queen had to send someone else into town to hunt down the specific bag Kaisel had demanded requested, bright and sugary and probably infused with enough dye to make him shit colours fo a week. When they’d asked if she wanted anything else while they were there, the queen’s eyes had narrowed, an idea taking root in her smile like a particularly unholy bloom.

Cut to the Doubletake storming down the dock in a flowy sundress that was doing absolutely nothing to disguise the fire in her step. The fabric fluttered with each stride, a whirlwind of hibiscus pink and palm-leaf green that clashed beautifully with the sunny morning behind her. Her blonde braid was wound tight like a noose down her back, her jewellery catching the light as she marched, arms loaded with a paper bag far too large to just be sweets.

She spotted Kaisel before he spotted her—which was fitting, really, for the dramatics she intended to unleash upon him. He was leaning against the railing like he was trying to blend into the scenery, hot-pink shorts practically screaming in protest, sunglasses tilted at that dumb just-so angle like it could shield him from what was coming. Spoiler alert, it couldn’t.

"Kaisel," she snapped as she reached him, her index finger poking into his shoulder with an accusatory jab. "You can pick sour or hot. Those are your only options for your punishment."

She didn’t elaborate. Just stared him down from behind oversized sunglasses, her voice chipper but edged like sea glass.

// Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars //

Uh oh, that's his full name coming from a familiar voice that usually can't be bothered to add on all the extra words. He kinda hoped she'd have calmed down after the letter. For someone with an ice dragon that she uses all the time like a portable a/c unit, she really has zero chill sometimes.

His gaze slides across the crowd, snagging on her a bit too late. It's enough time for him to throw an arm dramatically over his eyes, doing nothing to hide the slanted grin, even as she rounds a sturdy finger upon him. "WAIT!" he calls out like a man being dragged to the gallows, desperate to stall. It is his plan afterall, maybe charm his way out of whatever temper she might wield. "Do you actually have clothes on this time?" he asks with a timid drop to his arm, afraid to peek over the edge and confirm, akin to hiding from a horror movie but trying to catch glimpses of the gore just to be sure it's still too scary to watch.

His other hand claps up to the shoulder her finger daggers into, a voiceless O W mouthed out as he slaps at her hand. "Wait, I thought I was being slapped?" He regrets it when he says it and continues to hid in the crook of his arm. "Waitwaitwaitwait, I mean hot. Hot!" If he has to hazard a guess, she's talking about food, and he can handle hot better when it comes to that.

Kaisel

// I could really use a wish right now //

lay your soul onto mine

Flora huffs, scandalized in that grand, performative way that practically demands an audience. “"You should be so lucky to ever see me without clothes on," she snips, clutching the oversized paper bag like it contains ancient scrolls instead of weaponized sugar.

With a flourish of gold bangles and self-righteous vengeance, she digs through the bag until her fingers close around something small, round, and violently red. It gleams in her palm like a cherry forged in hellfire. "The woman at the candy shop said this was the hottest thing she’s ever sold,”" she informs him sweetly, which was exactly the sort of sentence one ought to fear when spoken by someone like Flora Kaito-Taliesin.

And then she lunges.

"Open." Her fingers pinch his nose without ceremony, the other hand ready with the candy like it’s a grenade. If he resists, she has no qualms about prying his jaw open like a stubborn horse, one ringed finger worming in behind his teeth until victory is hers.

The second the candy is in his mouth, she steps back with the satisfaction of someone who just won a duel. "Your lecture lasts as long as that candy does," she says sweetly, hands on her hips, braid swinging like a metronome of doom. "Spit it out and I'll shove two back in. Nod if you understand."

// Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars //

Damn, she barely even flirted, there'll be no charming his way out of this mess it seems. Resigned to his fate he drops his arm, eyes narrowing on her behind his sunglasses as he observes the bag in her hand properly for the first time. It looks suspiciously plain, and though he's trying to stay on edge, he doesn't know for what.

He tilts his head as she crinkles around for her torture device, like he might discern the best defense against it if he can just figure it out sooner than later. So he braces a bit when her hand pops free, anticipating some kind of cattle prod or other zapper so she might join in on the jolts of fun he and Jack had. Maybe when she meant hot, she meant like his skin, frying again. Instead, the danger-red orb she holds up stares back at him, and he has to admit it sounds a lot better than half the things he imagined. It's candy, can't be that bad.

He's about to say something smart, or dumb, depending on your perspective, when she closes the remaining distance unexpectedly. Mouth already slackened, her fingers like a vice on his nose, he inhales suddenly through his mouth with the surprise of it, the fire candy popping in along with it. His mouth shuts immediately, eyebrows rising in a what the fuck expression just as she settles back to tell him her terms. The sizzle of the spice already begins to melt upon his tongue, forcing him to roll it to one cheek, his tastebuds starting to swell and prickle against the object that demands not to be eaten.

"Mmorpf hiynane," he glowers, sighing heavily through his nose before nodding. No sweat. She's crazy, but he can pull this off. Cocky, he eases back against the railing again.

Kaisel

// I could really use a wish right now //

lay your soul onto mine

Satisfied that Kaisel can’t sass her mid-scorchball, Flora takes a breath and plants her feet like she’s about to address a crowd. Which, frankly, isn’t far off—one or two passersby have already begun giving them a wide berth, especially now that her earrings are starting to swing with the force of her indignation.

"What were you thinking???" she demands, arms flaring out before immediately slapping back to her hips. "Actually—no. Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t even matter what you were thinking, because you weren’t."

The words are sharp, flung like confetti from a hurricane. "Jack Barclay is one of the most notorious people in Torchline—not because of his pretty blue eyes—but because he does shit. Like. That!" Her voice pitches upward, hands gesturing wildly as her braid whips behind her like punctuation. "And!" she barrels on, chin lifting, volume rising, "He is, in case you weren't aware, a literal walking lightning storm when he wants to be! And also! Do you know what I gave him? For birthdays? For anniversaries? For every ‘please, please, please love me’ moment?!"

A pause, only for breath. Her cheeks are flushed, sea-glass eyes burning as she leans in.

"Mageglass." The word drops like an anchor. "Do you know what mageglass does, Kaisel? Especially that much? No, don’t answer that, because clearly you don’t." She doesn’t wait. "That much mageglass gives him the ability to send most people straight to Mort’s halls with a flick of his fingers. Snap. Gone. The only reason you're still here, wearing that ugly-ass shirt and breathing my air, is because Jack chose not to kill you." Presumably for Flora's sake, hence why the captain had gotten a thank-you and Kaisel was getting a dressing down.

Her glare could peel paint. Neck tense, arms locked at her sides, she looks like she’s about to throw something or burst into tears—or both.

But then her fury caves in on itself as she surges forward, arms wrapping around him with a ragged breath. "Gods, Kai," she mutters, voice muffled in his chest, "You dummb stupid dumb idiot, I was so fucking worried."

// Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars //

She launches into the lecture while he rolls the candy-from-hell to his other cheek. The small touch against his tongue is an instant regret as the already angry skin flares against the source. He gestures forward and then out with both arms as she demands a question he can't answer. Although, her own conclusion is pretty spot on. Truth be told, he hadn't been thinking much beyond getting in some good digs at Jack, which at the time had seemed easy enough and also non-lethal, you know, like most people are.

Although he's begun to turn a shade of red, not due to sun or shame, he manages to roll his eyes in exaggerated fashion when she calls ~ Jack Barcaly's ~ eyes a pretty blue. If he wasn't already gagged he'd demand it now. One eye squints shut and he's now actively rolling the candy from one side to the other in his mouth. There's nowhere good to put it, everything hurts now, but keeping it in motion seems like the only way to provide some relief, however short. Even so, stubbornly Kaisel puts his hands on his hips in response to her increasing volume, leaning forward with the energy of the scolding. One foot taps the ground, because all he's hearing is how fucking GREAT Jack is. He can't tell now if the rising nausea is from the obscene amount of spice or the way she's fucking glazing the dickhead.

She asks him another question, and as she leans in for the answer he throws his hands up, head sagging back for a minute, although that drips the fire-touched saliva down his throat far too fast and he leans forward with a cheek-puffing cough as she continues. Tears rim his eyes, the one's remained closed, and he sucks in breaths through his nose in steady, short puffs. Still, he finds the rebuke to slap the back of one hand repeatedly against one of his palms, jabbing them both towards her in a clear sign that she's the one who made this worse then.

Huffing loudly through his nose as she resumes listing all the incredible things fucking Jackoff can do, Kaisel crosses his arms and tests if his teeth can damage the fireball of pain and punishment yet. They glide off, carving an extra spicy swell in his mouth that gathers all the saliva in his mouth like a flood. He sucks it down, face scrunching with the effort as now his throat begins to burn, as his breath becomes tickled with the heat.

Some sort of muffled sound cuts free from him and he grabs at the edges of his shirt in clear disbelief that she'd call this ugly. He wishes that had been her most cutting remark. Wants to pretend it is, because that's a lot easier than the knowledge that Jack left him alive by choice, something Kaisel has had to admit to, much as it burns in equal measure to this fucking candy. It's not been easy to accept just how different their power is, how weak he is to do...anything. Makes a bit more sense now, how she could fall for a guy like that. Jack wouldn't end up kissing sand if he made a point to stand up for her.

All the energy to argue back with her fades then. Her stare earns a resigned sigh and he glances away. Yeah, he gets it. He's nothing, just like Jack said, just like he proved.

Her abrupt hug pushes him back against the railing, and for a moment he's too startled to return it, having expected more lashes for all his poor choices. Also because it's hard to see through the tears, all of which he's pretty certain are just from the spice, but who's to say at this point. His arms do wrap around her in turn though, holding her tight against him, unwilling to release until she does.

He didn't mean for...this.

Kaisel

// I could really use a wish right now //

lay your soul onto mine

Flora’s arms are tightening, her breath already halfway to indignation, lips parting to snap—you better hug me back or I swear—when she feels his arms slide around her. Immediately, she melts. Well, not entirely. It’s a dramatic melt, the kind designed to be noticed, with a sigh that flutters against his collarbone and a squeeze that borders on punishing. If his white tank top ends up with a smear of her lipstick, that’s his fault for wearing such a poor choice to a guilt-fueled reunion hug.

Eventually, she tilts her head back, her sunglasses slipping slightly down her nose to reveal raised brows and a glint in her eyes sharp enough to cut through sugar and heat both. "And because I know you aren't thinking about this with the right head," she murmurs, voice soft but deadly, "if you want any chance with Caly..." If he wouldn't do it for Flora, maybe he'd do it for Flora 2.0, "Maybe don’t piss off her dad any more than you already have."

// Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars //

He might feel the warmth of her hug and all it means a bit more if she didn't insist on tormenting him. His mouth is molten now, each nerve firing off with pain that has set every part of him tingling with a phantom burn, as if the spice has now entered his blood. His scalp prickles with it, and his sweat is coming on heavy now around his face. Lipstick stains? She's gonna pull away with part of him smeared all over her.

The look she grants him after a minute is enough to worry him despite the hell she's already bestowed upon him. What more could she have?

Wait—Spice. Where the fuck is Spice? Leave it to Flora to attack from two fronts and use a twist of words to do it. He glances around wildly, trying to find the dragon, though admittedly a blast of frost doesn't sound so bad right about now.

What she does instead though leaves him choking, like actually. He sucks in a breath to comment, forgetting himself briefly, and the fireball of candy hits the back of his throat. He gags against it, slumping against Flora as he struggles for breath, tears freely streaming now and snot starting to drip from his nose. He swallows, hard, and the devil's testicle burns all the way down. He hacks afterwards, falling to his hands and knees with no ounce of pretend dramatics as he tries to recover. "Jack...is her dad?" it's all he can manage to wheeze out.

Kaisel

// I could really use a wish right now //

lay your soul onto mine

Flora startles as Kaisel slumps into her, half-collapsing with all the grace of a sun-dazed tuna onto her shoulder. Her arms tighten around him instinctively before she realizes—wait. Wait. Is he actually choking?

"Oh my gods, Kaisel—" she gasps, trying to keep him upright while simultaneously avoiding the increasingly vibrant stream of drool that’s beginning to decorate his chin (and her dress). She thumps him on the back, hard, grimacing as he coughs and sputters and ultimately crumples to the deck in a mess of tears and snot and wounded masculinity.

At least he’s breathing. Loudly. Wetly. And in that distinct tone of someone who deserved it.

She crouches beside him with a dramatic sigh, arms crossed and nose wrinkled as if the sight of him alone is an affront to her senses, then, with a dry, exasperated roll of her eyes, she lifts her brows and spreads her hands. "Yes, dummy. Jack. Is. Her. Dad. Also Vesper and Nova’s. And there's a fourth one, too."

// Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars //

Oh, so he had heard right, awesome. Yeah, cool, the girl he likes has a fucking psychopath for a father. Let's not even get into the mess of what would happen if him and Caly actually became something more and Flora and Jack reuinted too. If he was going to be calling Flora mommy it'd only be in the bedroom, which is the least appealing option to him right now as he's dragging in air that feels fresh out of an opened oven, one that she turned on.

How has Jack suddenly managed to infiltrate every aspect of his life? Like one conversation is all it took to slam open the door and just invite the shitter to stroll in and take up residence. Maybe he's like those old myths where you say their name too many times and they appear in the mirror. If he hears Jack one more time...

"Great," he says, strained, as he recovers enough to sit back on his ass, shrugginh off his UGLY alligator shirt and redesigning it into a napkin. "Water?" he asks her, gaze flicking over, irritated and broody with all the shit she flung up, the cherry on top being whether or not he could even continue to pursue Caly now knowing this. He hadn't really thought that far ahead yet, but now it feels like something he has to decide, and he's not particularly fond of being forced into that, especially because of shitstain.

Kaisel

// I could really use a wish right now //

lay your soul onto mine

Flora lifts her brows and points broadly at the ocean, giving Kai a look that practically screams problem solved. "Plenty of water," she drawls, deadpan. "You just gotta commit."

Then, with a sharp whistle, Spice comes swooping out of the sky like a sugar-glazed missile of vengeance, her wings flaring as she lands delicately on Flora’s shoulder. The little white dragon doesn’t need to be told—she exhales a ribbon of icy air in Kai’s direction, cold enough to fog the space between them.

Flora, already elbow-deep in her beach bag, fingers scrabbling past sunscreen, crumpled tissues, and three different shades of lip gloss finally finds a half-full water bottle. She offers it toward him without ceremony, still watching him like he’s a puzzle with the edges jammed in wrong.

She’d thought the candy would disarm him. A ridiculous, fireball-shaped lecture that would make them both laugh and maybe make it easier to say all the things that were still stuck in her throat about how fucking worried she'd been. But he looks more annoyed now than when she'd first walked up to him. Her mouth twists slightly, confusion flickering through the usually unshakable Doubletake, at least where Kai is concerned.

"...Didn’t think I went that hard," she says, quieter now, not quite teasing, her eyes flicking to his face like she’s gauging just how much damage she did.

// Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars //

He cannot roll his eyes harder at her. Fortunately, before he can rasp something he'll likely regret, she relents for a moment. Though the all too familiar whistle for Spice cutting through the warm air suggests torture as equally as relief, he kind of welcomes the idea of being frost blasted into oblivion right now.

The icy mist that settles instead is a good compromise though, leaving him unfrozen but pleasantly chilled. Enough to crisp and cool against his throat, and the flush of his skin brought on by the other spice. He reaches for the water bottle and selfishly chugs the rest of it. The effects are immediate, and the ache within his mouth subsides to a dull throb with his pulse instead of a scream.

"Damage enough." he says with a wince behind his shades. "I maybe shoulda picked sour," a smile tugs at the edges of his lips but doesn't quite settle. He's finally regained enough composure to look back at her and all the ways she'd grown quieter. He sighs faintly, leaning against one of his hands, elbow propped up on a knee. "Anything else I should know about Mr. Wonderful that might fuck me over or is that finally the end?"

Kaisel is close with his folks still, so pursuing Caly feels like a threat of sitting tableside with someone he still desperately wants to punch on sight for family dinner. Maybe he's getting ahead of himself and should talk to Caly first before jumping to the idea that everything is ruined. Maybe she hates him too, which is understandable, he seems easy to hate, except for the fact Flora doesn't. Kaisel gets some of why, he thinks Koa does too, which might be part of why his cousin took Soh in the back room and not Flora—whos' to say.

Kaisel

// I could really use a wish right now //

lay your soul onto mine

Flora draws her knees up and rests her arms atop them, sunglasses still low on her nose as she watches Kaisel chug the water like it’s some holy relic. The barest curl of a smile—not quite an apology, but not not one either—touches her lips at the edge of his wince. " Well now you know for next time you get yourself into a situation like this on my shores," she hums, voice lighter now that he’s breathing properly. Only hopefully there wouldn't ever be a next time, though knowing Kai that was probably wishful thinking.

The flicker of his smile makes her feel a little less like a monster, enough that she doesn’t read too far into the slump of his posture or the way he leans on his knees like the weight of Torchline itself just slapped him across the face, instead opting to chalk it up to the spice.

As for Jack, her smile fades like sugar crystals melting in the heat. She of course couldn't say that yeah Kai, he's a fucking telepath so you don't gotta just watch your step or your mouth around him, but your thoughts too, leaving the queen frowning down at the docks for a moment. "He’s made a living off being the most ruthless man in all of Torchline," she says, tucking a loose curl behind one ear. "Jack..basically holds as much power when it comes to the underbelly of Torchline as Hadama and I do for the rest of it. If I were you, I’d give him a very wide berth." Her tone isn’t sharp, but it’s honest. Flora doesn’t paint Jack in a villain’s black, knowing what she does about him, but she doesn't mince her words either. "I just don't want anything to happen to you, okay?"

Glancing over her shoulder, she jerks her chin toward the Sugar Tide where it rocks gently in its slip. "There's more water onboard if you need it," she offers, then adds, "or there's a place that sells popsicles just up the docks a little ways?"