[Training] Take me by storm

It was, perhaps, the worst season to pay a visit to Metacarpal island. The heat was intense and the breeze was stifled by the carnivorous foliage, which only amplified the humidity that hung heavy in the air. It was also one of the most secluded places in Torchline in this season, and that same troublesome foliage provided a great deal of cover from prying - or floating - eyes or ears or other sensory organs.

Hadama had ostensibly come to patrol the island, with its overzealous vegetation and reputation for taking bites out of tourists who ignored the clearly posted warning signs.

He had also made arrangements to meet a ghost there, an invisible presence who was rarely seen these days, but who was very much still present in the region she ruled.

He stood at the edge of the jungle just past the connecting bridge, shaded by the overhanging branches with their crimson leaves but still visible. His arms were crossed over his bare chest as he contemplated a very large flower nearby that was doing its best to look innocent under his scrutiny.

Flora

karma's a relaxing thought, aren't you envious that for you it's not?

The heat was oppressive, even with Spice tucked somewhere high in the trees to keep a minor chill on the air around her. Flora moved carefully through the underbrush, careful not to snap twigs or disturb the more temperamental greenery that might be inclined to take offence—and a chunk out of her leg. Barefoot and invisible, she was little more than a breath in the jungle, a shimmer of displaced air and mischief.

Hadama was already waiting. Statuesque and brooding, arms crossed in a way that suggested disapproval even when the only thing present was a suspiciously sulky flower. She crept closer, weaving between branches, slipping silent as salt spray over coral until she was just behind him. "BOO!" she announced, bright and unrepentant, her fingers flitting across the damp breadth of his back with a dramatic little wiggle.

A moment later, a purposeful kick of sand near his heel marked her place as the queen’s voice floated up again, airy and sun-soaked. "I’m happy to be visible for our little training exercise," she drawled sweetly.

True to her word, Flora appeared by degrees—first the glint of gold at her fingers, then the fall of her curls, her grin, her sun-kissed limbs and the knot of bright cloth tied at her hip in place of a proper skirt. Her expression was warm, amused, but tinged with alertness, like a cat testing the mood of the room. "But if my ghostly presence draws too much attention from any star-sent sensory creeps, I’ll be compass-bound faster than you can blink."

She tapped her compass in emphasis, the one that could spirit her away if needed, before turning her eyes toward the flower that had claimed so much of Hadama’s attention. "...are you practicing the flirting techniques we talked about?"

The King of Torchline did not jump when the disembodied voice made itself known behind him, alongside a brush of ghostly fingertips across his skin. His feet did not, technically, leave the ground - his toes remained firmly upon the sand, though tension caused all of his muscles to bunch and his heels may indeed have lifted for a moment.

But it was a moment only, and he relaxed again, composure returned as his co-ruler's voice came clearly from the air nearby. Something that was suspiciously close to a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth as he turned his head to catch the first appearance of Torchline's queen since that farce of a pool party and he took a moment to assure himself that she was, in fact, healthy and unharmed. Golden rings and golden hair sparkled from sun-kissed skin as the shapely young woman faded into view, fierce and lovely and sharp-eyed in a way that reminded Hadama far more of her mother than her fathers.

"We do not need to tempt fate," he assured her, uncrossing his arms and letting them relax at his sides. "If you wish to stay hidden. I will aim for the sound of your voice. It will be good training for what lies beneath their island." In darkness and poisoned clouds of gas or mist.

Her question received a slight inclination of his head and a gleam of emerald eyes as he shook his hands out briefly and then raised them into a defensive stance. "I have not needed to apologize with confections yet, but I am preparing. I am learning how to make chocolates."

He glanced back at the flower - but it had wisely made a discrete escape, scampering back into the jungle on spindly root-feet. With a quiet hmph of amusement he turned to face Flora fully and made a single beckoning gesture of readiness.

karma's a relaxing thought, aren't you envious that for you it's not?

"Ooooohhh, chocolates?" Flora’s voice rises in delighted disbelief as she circles, invisible once more, the gold of her ring catching one last sunbeam before she disappears. Her grin is audible even if she isn’t, each word laced with laughter and mischief. "Can I be your official taste tester? We can sort them by romantic severity—y’know, sugar-dusted apology truffle for stepping on someone’s toes, dark cherry betrayal ganache for cheating, crushed espresso bark for ghosting someone and pretending it was an act of kindness…"

There’s a pause—musical, teasing, just long enough for Hadama to wonder where she’s gone—before her voice hums back in again, a soft melody twining through the palms like a heatwave shimmer. "Mmhmhmhmmm…" It’s not quite a song, but there’s a rhythm to it, just enough to help him with vaguely identifying where she was.

Then—thwick!—a feathered dagger slices through the air and lands sharp in the sand just beside his foot. It sticks upright, a delicate little flourish of deadly poise, poison-glass sheen glinting blue-green in the sunlight.

1/4

"That can be arranged," he agreed mock-solemnly to her offer of helping to taste the early results of his new undertaking. There was humor in his voice, however, bright and warm in spite of his stoic mien. He turned slowly to follow the sound of her voice as he spoke, sharp eyes seeking some bend of the light that would reveal her position... but the ring did its work well, and she was fully and truly invisible.

"I am beginning with truffles, yes..." Though given his penchant for artistry and perfection, who knew where it would end? His words trailed off into silence, however, as he strained his hearing to find the source of the musical humming. The blade very nearly trimmed his little toe and he turned his head sharply to follow where it had flown from.

Not there, but... several feet to the right the air warped and shimmered, not with heat but with weight as space distorted and than lanced downwards into the sand to send it up in a puff. A single gravity spike, launched more to help pinpoint Flora's location than to hit her directly...

This time.

karma's a relaxing thought, aren't you envious that for you it's not?

"Ooooooh, truffles?" Flora coos, the word drawn out like honey dripping from a spoon. Her delight is tangible in the sultry shimmer of her voice, lingering in the humid air as her feathered dagger flashes through the canopy light—thwick!—and lands with precise elegance in the sand beside Hadama’s foot, like a calling card rather than a threat. The gravity spike answers a heartbeat later, warping the space with a heavy thrum of power. But Flora is already in motion, dancing lightly to the side, invisible toes skimming over sun-warmed sand as the spike slams into where she was moments before. A puff of grit bursts upward, but it's met only with her laughter, trailing off to the left like a breeze curling away from a storm.

"Getting warmer~," she teases, her voice shifting with her movement, a playfully haunting echo threading through the jungle’s hissing leaves.

Above them, another dagger whistles into the air—this one thrown high, far above the palms. It vanishes among the red-and-green foliage, only to reverse course a moment later as Flora recalls it with a subtle twitch of her palm. It slices back down through the canopy with a rustle and a snap, disturbing a flurry of oversized leaves that tumble down like lazy confetti around Hadama, dappling him in broken light and fluttering shadows.

"Oops," her voice croons again, impossibly pleased. "Leaf it to me to make things difficult."

2/4

The Queen's voice floated away from the open beach and into the outskirts of the hungry jungle - where any plant foolish enough to take a snap t the Doubletake would doubtless be making its last mistake. He turned to follow that lilting clue to his co-ruler's presence, head tilted as he tried to locate her from the liquid trill of her laughter. She was too graceful and sure-footed to reveal her presence in the rustle of leaves...

Except, of course, when she wanted to rustle them. The dagger was a distraction, but Hadama treated the falling leaves seriously as he shifted out from beneath them, twisting to avoid being touched by the descending crimson foliage. He might have lost his target then, but Flora sang out once more--

With an attack that he could not evade.

"Mmmmm." The rumble that emerged from deep in his chest was a mock-serious grumble of dismay. "You did not say there would be puns involved today."

He could not be precise while he could not see her, but he used his hearing to aim a gravity spike - at basic strength - directly in front of where he thought she was headed, pulping the local vegetation to mush and perhaps splattering her with some of the sap in retaliation for her verbal assault.

karma's a relaxing thought, aren't you envious that for you it's not?

A ripple of laughter bursts from the air just past where the leaves had fallen, bright and wild as seafoam caught on coral. "I never said puns wouldn’t be involved," Flora sings out, every syllable wreathed in mischief. "Honestly, it’s rude to assume otherwise. I am many things, Hadama, but predictable isn’t one of them."

The words trail off just in time for the ground to lurch. The vegetation before her detonates in a wet, leafy spray as the gravity spike slams down, the force of it sending a shudder through the sand and splattering sap and chlorophyll in wild, sticky streaks. With a startled squeak she stumbles backward, a flurry of footsteps tracing her retreat in the sand—visible evidence that, this time, the Tidebreaker’s aim had been unnervingly close.

The humming ceases. For a moment the air is still.

Then it starts again—this time softer, warier, curling through the humid air like a siren’s tease. And with it, two feathered daggers flash in unison, cutting twin paths on either side of Hadama in a crisscross of glittering arc. Flora, meanwhile, ducks low into the brush, curls brushing her cheek as she crouches in the stillness, hoping the misdirection will work and he'd think she'd gone somewhere other than where she currently was.

3/4

"Indeed," came the rumble of amused agreement. At least it was agreement to the statement that the Doubletake was unpredictable - to the consternation of her enemies and allies alike, sometimes. His strike came in the wake of his response, and the invisible squeak let him know that he had hit true. His eyes followed his ears in tracing the footsteps that momentarily stirred the sand in their hurried flight before Flora once again faded into stillness and silence.

Hadama exhaled softly and then closed his eyes, head tilted as he strained his hearing for any sound not of the voracious jungle whose verge they despoiled.

The hum returned and his eyes opened to find the source just as a pair of glittering silver-steel feathers flashed past him. It was lucky that he was still or he might have dodged into one of their paths in trying to avoid the other, but Hadama trusted Flora's aim and remained steady. His own aim was of more concern when he could not see his opponent, but that did not stop him from reacting swiftly to send another basic gravity spike down a short distance behind where he thought the knives had originated from, based on where their paths had diverged. Again, attempting to splatter sap and sand rather than hit his co-ruler directly.

"Have you and Jack reconciled yet?" A question asked, perhaps, in innocence. Or perhaps not, as he listened for which direction her voice came from next.

karma's a relaxing thought, aren't you envious that for you it's not?

Invisible though she is, Flora still lets out a squeaky yelp as the gravity spike erupts behind her, a plume of sand and thick sap flinging forward to coat the air where she'd just been standing. She stumbles forward a step, catching herself with a huff that is absolutely more dramatic than necessary.

"Oh my gods," comes her invisible groan, pitched just loud enough to carry. "Is that your strategy now? Drag up emotionally fraught exes to throw me off my game?" There’s the rustle of motion in the underbrush as she moves again, her steps light and quick as she circles, just barely avoiding crunching where the sap’s begun to congeal into sticky blotches on the jungle floor.

Still, she can’t help the grin that tugs at her voice, even as she recalls her daggers with a flick of thought and lets another fly toward the mer, its arc silent and unseen. "Nooooooo," she drawls, stretching the word in playful protest, "Jack and I are definitely not back together. We have...rigidly incompatible worldviews, I guess you'd say."

The next dagger zips through the air a breath later, just near Hadama's big toe.

4/4

No smile appeared on the Tidebreaker's face as the startled yelp gave evidence of his aim, but there was an indefinable air of satisfaction to the solemn King as his co-ruler groaned an echo to his own previous dismay. "I did not know if he was still an 'ex.' I had... mmh. Hoped you had reconciled," he admitted, cocking his head to the side to follow her footsteps--

Or trying to. Off her game she might have momentarily been, but Flora had recovered quickly and her feet were silent over sand and bone and questionable vegetation. Still, there was a faint rustle to the side...

He did not turn his head, but he noted it, and then the drawn out protest that followed. Confident that he knew where she was, he gathered his power and his gaze flicked to the left. It was a good thing that he had not started to move his foot, however, as a steel feather buried itself in the sand close enough to put a tiny notch in his toenail. He had, in fact, miscalculated Flora's location, and her attack could have done a great deal more damage if she had wished it to.

"I see..." He stepped carefully away from the feather so it wouldn't go through him on its recall flight, but the direction it was sunk in the sand helped him locate - he hoped - its mistress. Emerald eyes narrowed in good humor as he called down a final gravity spike in the jungle behind Flora once more, and then stepped forward with arms spread to try and catch her if she dodged forward. Or at least, that was his intention; being unable to see her made it as much a matter of luck as skill.

"A shame. He made you happy." At least for awhile. And that had absolved the captain of a great deal, as far as the Tidebreaker was concerned. "Is 'breakup revenge' called for?"

karma's a relaxing thought, aren't you envious that for you it's not?

Sand shifts under bare toes as Flora recalls her daggers with a gentle shimmer of magic, the sound of their return little more than a whisper. She plants her feet, curling them into the warm grit until the movement gives her away—just enough for Hadama to place her without risking another accidental impaling. The jungle hushes around them again, tension crackling in the pause after his gravity spike, but Flora doesn’t press the attack.

Instead, she exhales, soft and sincere. ”Yeah,” she says, quiet enough that the wind nearly takes it. “He really did.” For all the fights and silence and jagged edges, for all the ways it had gone wrong—Gods, she had loved him. Wanted him. For so long that without him, she doesn’t quite know how to walk straight anymore. Every step feels a little off-balance, like a ship listing without its anchor.

But the moment doesn’t stay sad for long—not when Hadama, bless him, offers up breakup revenge with the same gravity as a tactical proposal. A laugh rises from Flora’s throat, sharp and clear and utterly delighted as she straightens, invisible still, but with that unmistakable shimmer of amusement rippling in her voice.

“You volunteering your particular skill set?” she teases, voice syrup-sweet and thick with mischief. “Because I gotta say, I think Jack would lose his mind if your gravity spikes kept the Ark from sailing away.”

He could hear the end of the spar in Flora's voice, and he drew himself straight once more, relaxing from the tension of the fight. Unwilling to let the sadness linger, he offered what he could by way of cheering the Doubletake up; an offer that served its purpose admirably as her laughter caught in the sunlight and reflected through the island's feral flowers, sharp enough to warn the bravest ones away from seeking its source.

"Gravity spikes," he agreed, his solemnity somewhat ruined by the twinkle in his emerald eyes and the grin that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Or worse. How many times do you think the Ark can be chosen for a 'random' customs inspection before he begins to suspect us?" He turned and began to walk with stately grace back towards the shore, ignoring how the vegetation shrank away from his steps after seeing several of their kin pulped by his magic. It would not last; by the time he returned the lessons would have been forgotten and he would once more be considered fair prey. But for now it was simply a relief to not have to dodge importunate nibbles at his ankles as he left the jungle behind to regain the fresh sea breeze and the lap of cool water over his toes.

karma's a relaxing thought, aren't you envious that for you it's not?

A ripple of delighted tittering echoed somewhere above the jungle floor—light and irreverent, as though sunlight itself had giggled. "He can suspect all he likes," Flora quipped from the ether, a grin clear in every syllable, "but who’s he gonna complain to about it? The Queen?" She sniffed dramatically, as though scandalised, and the leaves around them rustled in private laughter.

Her footsteps—soft as sugar on silk—hushed quickly into the underbrush as she jogged to catch up, the verdant shadows parting reluctantly as she moved unseen. Near the water’s edge, just as the sea’s salt began to press into the air again, the invisible queen reached out and gently caught Hadama’s hand.

A moment passed. Then the sensation of cool shell—familiar, worn, and still faintly sun-warmed—slid back onto his finger. "Thanks for letting me borrow it," Flora mumbled, the words softer now, all the playfulness folded up like a secret and tucked gently between them.

And though her form remained unseen, the press of her presence lingered like the last touch of a wave against bare skin—brief, fond, and fading—as she drifted away toward the surf.

~FIN