heartbreak is one thing, my ego's another

your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand

(Basically takes place in the aftermath of Sock’er Bopper Showdown)

A few broken bottles and punches thrown was one thing. This was the Hanged Man, after all, and during LongNight no less. Flora expected more than a bit of fuckery and in year's past, she'd always been able to manage the chaos without too much trouble. An all out tavern brawl? That was another thing entirely, (mostly because Flora had just put the place back together again and wasn't keen to see it destroyed so quickly). Though Melita, Jude, and Sah had arguably started it, several Torchers were gladly finishing it, such that the Doubletake found that she take it no longer.

With a muffled scream of annoyance under her breath, Flora tossed down her mirror to make it seem as if she was still behind the bar before slipping her invisibility ring on and shoving her way outside. Only then did she remove it, glancing around the beach in the hopes she might see her dad's strolling by. Silly her for having used her channel to SaVe ToRChlIne, because now it left her unable to save her own damned bar.

It wasn't Remi or Ronin she saw in the Torchlight, it was Koa.
Because of course it was.

Only debating for a second for making up her mind, Flora darted out, waving her hands to get the dragoon's attention. "Koa!" She cried out, and then, just in case he thought that maybe he ought to turn the other way, she added: "Bar fight! Help!"

KOA

Since his confession (and subsequent rejection), Koa has made a point of staying away from Flora and the Hanged Man. Not sulking, and not nursing a bruised ego, thank you very much. Just... giving her space, respectfully, like a gentleman. Letting them have a break from each other.

A break which doesn't last very long.

Koa's partway through a beer when a familiar voice calls through the night, causing him to choke and spit a half-swallowed gulp into his glass. "Flora?! What is it?" Alarm sets his heart racingin his chest, the beer abandoned as protective instinct overtakes his thoughts. He's already up by the time she clarifies, ready to vault over the railing, to grow wings and fly to her aid. Even Pip responds with gusto, launching from the table to fly circles around the Queen.

Bar fight. Help. And what more does she need to say except that last word? Help, and he'll be there. Pausing only long enough to toss some money on his table, Koa dashes round a banister, jogging to meet Flora in the street. "Okay. Let's go." He's entirely business, a soldier at attention, as eager to go protect and serve as a dog might be to play fetch.

With each love I cut loose, I was never the same
Watching still living roots be consumed by the flame

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand

"It was fine at first, only now it's—" Well, it was a fucking mess is what it was, and given it might host her mother's wedding one of these weeks, Flora couldn't really afford for it to be smashed up. Tossing up her hands helplessly, the queen offered Pip an appreciative half-smile while doing her utmost not to think about how attractive it was to see Koa so eager to help her after all they'd been through. Or maybe he was just attractive period and him being nice was just a nice add-on.

Instinctively Flora began to reach out for Koa's hand before stiffly stopping the gesture. It would have been a dick move on her part to do so, especially after having just reiterated to him only days before how badly he'd fucked things up, only...

..only she did want to.

Not quite able to run as nimbly as normal, Flora did her best to keep up with the dragoon who was nearly as fit as she was, if not more. Though Torchline's soldiers were certainly not the well-regimented force that the Dragoons were, Koa would find that the queen's calls had attracted the attention of a small handful of soldiers who were trotting their way.

Inside the Hanged Man hell was still breaking loose. An overturned game of cards had added more fuel to an already blazing fire—and oop, wouldn't you know it, there was an actual fire as well. One of the windows was broken and its shards of glass and broken frame were being welded as crude weapons by a few patrons demanding a drink from someone who didn't work there.

KOA

Flora's not the only one thinking it; Koa, too, is aware of their hands, has to will himself not to reach for hers, to maintain boundaries and professionalism in the light of their non-romance. It's something he's (un)fortunately practiced in, now, this experience a cruel mirror to the one with Sohalia. There, too, he hadn't been smart enough, or fast enough, or good enough. There, too, he'd had to pretend that he was okay, that the smell of her perfume and blue of her eyes wasn't enough to make him want to keel over. That he wasn't drowning in the tide of mourning all the things they could have been.

He leads the way, feet steady, path familiar, focusing on the task at hand. It's true that Torchline's soldiers lack a Dragoon's discipline, but they do know authority when they see it. And while Koa may not be a true Torcher, he's gained a reputation for helpfulness and discipline that hasn't gone unnoticed by those here. He's even trained with a few of the soldiers, becoming a familiar face in their barracks and fields.

And of course, it doesn't help that their Queen is on his heels.

The scene is chaos; one couldn't be blamed for stopping and staring, convinced the darkest timeline had arrived. Not Koa, though. He makes a quick assessment of the chaos, orders flowing easily from between his lips. "Okay- Anyone with water magic? Good - handle that blaze." One soldier sets off diligently; the rest wait for their instructions, glancing warily at the melee. "We need everyone evacuated, without causing a panic. Which means we keep our heads on. Stay in twos, de-escalate instead of escalating, and restrain anyone who gets to unruly. Do not rise to their level. Use multiple exits. Flora-" he turns then to face her, his handsome eyes gleaming focused intent. "Are you okay going back in? They're more likely to listen to you than anyone else. I'll keep you safe," he promises, no room for doubt in his steady voice.

With each love I cut loose, I was never the same
Watching still living roots be consumed by the flame

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand

Though Flora's daggers and dragon were able to stop minor disagreements from getting out of hand when the queen's charm and low-cut tops fell short, the scene inside of the tavern was well beyond anything she could combat alone. For the first time in gods knew how long, it had been for a friend, or...whatever Koa was now, that she'd run to for aid instead of her family. It felt strange to have to rely on pure grit and tactical know-how rather than divine might, but the queen couldn't deny that the danger the situation posed didn't fill her with a little bit of dark delight. Though perhaps that was just Koa, and the way the firelight seemed to paint in the sorts of heroic tones that any portrait artist would have.

Trying to peer inside as best she could—her mirror had gone dark and thus it would no longer appear as though she was inside—as Koa turned to her, Flora met his gaze with a shaky sort of confidence that quickly steeled as she lifted her chin and forced a smile onto her lips. She was Flora fucking Katio-Taliesin and she had soldiers with her; of course she was okay. Even so, as she took a breath, she reached out for Koa's hand, this time without hesitation.

"Don't leave me." She whispered, and before her cheeks could colour with the possible implication of those words, she was nudging him softly to lead the way.

KOA

She lifts her chin in that defiant way he's come to know so well, and Koa feels a rush of something he doesn't dare name. It's cruel, how easily her hand fits in his, how comfortable he feels with it there. It doesn't mean anything, he has to remind himself. And when she asks him not to leave her it's a punch in the gut, the answer immediate in his mind, sliding on his tongue, so obvious, so wrong. Never, he has no right to say.

He settles for squeezing her hand too tightly, throat bobbing as he swallows, hard.

They move into the tavern together, the Dragoon and his flock. Koa keeps Floras right hand gripped tightly in his left as they push into the entryway, grimacing at the chaos and din. Hooking a chair with his ankle, Koa drags it toward him and springs atop. He nods to the soldiers, waiting for them to spread to position before raising his fingers to his lips. A sharp, shrill whistle cuts the melee, loud enough to make the fighters look up in surprise.

"Alright, folks, time to pack it up!" This is met, predictably, with a series of groans and 'Boos'. Raising his right hand in a placating gesture, he goes on, calm but firm: "Now you can either leave of your own volition and take the party somewhere else, or Torchline's Finest will escort you out, and you can spend a nice evening in the barracks. Your choice," he finishes mildly, copper eyes hard above a friendly smile.

Most of the revelers take the hint. A solid handful don't. For those who protest, the guards move forward, grasping shoulders and threatening handcuffs if the assholes won't shove off. But one particular asshole takes things a step further. Koa sees the bottle raised in a scarred hand, sees the way the eyes gleam and knows the target isn't him. "Flora!" he shouts out in warning, leaping off the chair and in the path of the assailant. His body curls like a shield around Torchline's Queen, shoulders hunching as he braces for impact. He'd take a hundred bottles to the head before allowing one to touch a hair on hers.

With each love I cut loose, I was never the same
Watching still living roots be consumed by the flame

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand

With the adrenaline flowing like thick cords of gold through her veins, Flora hardly notices how hard Koa is squeezing her hand, only aware that he is. It makes her wonder, as they stumble in through the crowded doorway, if they'd ever actually held hands in a way that hadn't just been in service of something else (climaxing, for instance. Before she can think to, what? ask? Koa is towering above her, all ingrained confidence and control.

Wincing away a touch at the shrillness of his whistle but grinning just the same, the queen nevertheless remains at her the dragoon's side, shooting approving glances at the other soldiers and scowling at the rowdy patrons who seem to want to dig in their heels. This might be Torchline where almost anything went, but they could all fuck off and find somewhere else to drink if they thought Flora was going to let them destroy the one thing she'd managed to keep alive all on her own.

Mostly all on her own.

With her gaze on a man who was reaching out for one of her brother's plants—one touch alone would have his fingers swollen for a week—Flora was blissfully unaware of the danger heading her way until Koa was singing out her name in a tone she'd never heard from him before. It sounded like the way his eyes had looked when she'd shouted at him on Apopo, all rough edges and crimson barbs. "Wh—" She has time to say before he's jumping down at her? no, in front of her, and he's—
—because someone's—
—and his arms are around her, but it isn't a hug, and—
—was that the sound of his heartbeat or hers?—

The crash of glass against Koa's head is nothing like the movies the way it sounds when struck against the bar. Instead, it's a clunky thing, a heavy thing; a sound that's all maroon wetness and bone-chilling sharpness.

"KOA!" The queen cries, and were her hands already wrapped around the dragoon and unwilling to part from him, she might have instead reached for one of her daggers to stab whoever had struck him.

KOA

The impact is sudden and hard, sending an explosion of shock and pain through the Dragoon's nervous system. Stars explode in Koa's vision, a dizzying swirl of galactic colors that brings bile rising in his throat. He swallows it, defies it, searching desperately for the center, the only source of steadiness as the world spins. Keep one thing in focus, his teachers had coached him. One small point. Hone in on it. Ignore everything else.

His center is blue as a summer sky, as bright and clear as shallow seas. He stares at it with unfocused eyes, hones in on it, memorizes it. Tells himself he must hold steady, must not evaporate into the abyss.

Tells himself that nothing else matters, as long as he can stay in her eyes.

The dizziness passes in the span of a blink, replaced by adrenaline's surge. It's an unsustainable respite, but for now it's what will do. Later pain will set in again, and Koa will realize that the damp warmth at the back of his head isn't simply sweat. For right now, though, all he knows are those wide blue eyes and the way his name rings in his ears, and the fact that there's still a man behind him, threatening the woman in his arms.

And then he's angry, because by Frey's balls, How fucking dare.

He's not really aware of pulling out of Flora's grip. He doesn't have a plan. One minute his world is blue, the next it's black and a haze of red, and his right fist is connecting with a slack jaw, and the man is dropping and Koa is floating, hovering over the now cowering hooligan with a wrathful expression as he considers grinding his face to a pulp. Tension locks the muscles in his arms, the clench of his jaw and the grip of his fists. This is not Koa the Dragoon of Stormbreak; this is Koa the underground champion, a fighter with a penchant for winning and the deafening ringing of violence in his ears.

With each love I cut loose, I was never the same
Watching still living roots be consumed by the flame

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand

Not a healer by a long shot, as Koa stiffens somewhat around her, all Flora can do is let her eyes wildly scan his face for signs of injury. What a concussion looks like she isn't entirely sure, but given the way he's able to focus on her—he is, isn't he?—she thinks maybe he's alright. Only his eyes are suddenly narrowing and the bright copper of his gaze is being drowned out by a sudden cloud of darkness. "Koa, you're—"

He moves faster than she'd have believed him capable of, such that her fingers are still reaching out to tug him back even as her would-be assailant's body hits the floor. Gulping down a cry of terror? delight? Flora looks around the tavern, snapping her fingers at the nearest of her soldiers. "Get him out of here." She hisses, obviously meaning the man on the floor who seems seconds away from seeing what the Stormbreak dragoons were really capable of doing.

'Hey," the queen whispers from behind him, reaching out for Koa's biceps and trying to tug him back. Whether the tremble she felt was from her own hands or his arms she couldn't say, all Flora knew was that the back of Koa's head was sticky with blood that almost looked black in the light. "Hey, come with me—" It felt like trying to move a statue such was his focus, so rather than trying to tug on him, instead Flora slipped in front of him—the assailant was being hauled out by two soldiers all the while spitting slurs levied at anyone who'd listen—and placed her hands softly on his cheeks to try and refocus his gaze on hers. "—Koa? Come on, let's go in the back and get you cleaned up, okay? Please?"

KOA

Koa has had a lot of concussions, though few as severe as this will turn out to be. Perhaps that's why he's so able to power through it, to keep fighting even as his brain is swelling with impact and bruising, while blood is seeping from his skull. Thick headed, that's what he's always been called. It just happens to be literal in his case.

The iron thread of a soldier's control trembles with tension as glares at the piece of shit who dares to call himself a man. Through the rising haze of redness Koa sees only that sneering face, practically begging for a fist to break it, to wipe that cowardly snarl away. Caught between the warring leashes of wrath and control, the Dragoon takes a heavy step forward, ready to oblige the sniveling shit---

---only to stop as Flora manifests before him, bright as a beacon in the blur of his gaze.

And just like that the anger subsides, leaving Koa exhausted and concussed. He pauses, blinking, suddenly unsteady, confusion clouding his handsome face. "Flora?" Slowly he places a trembling hand over the one she has on his cheek. Why is she so concerned? He's fine.  "It isn't that bad," Koa lies, frowning- then wincing as the expression sends shockwaves of pain through his head. "Unh... yeah, okay." It's too hard to think of doing anything else. His head suddenly throbbing, he clings to her fingers, the feel of her skin the only thing grounding him to this plane.

With each love I cut loose, I was never the same
Watching still living roots be consumed by the flame

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand

Letting her thumbs brush softly across the bones of Koa's cheeks the way one might fuss a skittery animal, as his copper stare seems to find her again, the queen sighs with unfettered relief. It doesn't stop her heart from hammering the way it has been or douse the colour in her cheeks, but at least her shoulders are able to fall from where they'd been positioned beneath her ears.

"No, I know." Flora agrees with a casual shake of her head as if causing him to panic will somehow make things worse. "Come on." Spreading her fingers beneath his and then wrapping her other hand around them, the queen holds their amalgam of limbs against her chest before leading Koa towards the back room.

Turning the doorknob counter-clockwise reveals the entrance to the thieves guild, and while Flora would have waited for the tavern to be a good deal less crowded before sauntering in, given the level of chaos she doesn't think anyone will be watching where she and the bloody dragoon slip off to. The guild, recently rebuilt, features all the hallmarks of a place meant for debauchery and revelry; leather couches, caches of stolen property, a fully stocked bar, and of course a tunnel should anyone need to make a quick getaway.

"You sit here, okay? I'm just going to get something for your head." Leading Koa to the couch, the queen tries to encourage him to sit before dashing behind the bar for some Fountain Water and a few towels. Returning, the hammering in her chest having subsided only slightly, Flora tries for a confident smile as she pours a bit of the water onto the towel. "Sit forward? And..this might sting."

KOA

Under different circumstances Koa might have asked far more questions about the sketchy secret back room behind the bar. But now all his scattered focus is carefully channeled to the feel of Flora's hands, the way their fingers interlock as she leads him out of the fray. "Shouldn' we stay'n help?" he protests, never mind that there's less than little he could realistically do in his current state. "Make sure the bar's okay?" Never mind that his head is just as sticky as the floor.

But he's far too out of it to actually go against her, and experienced enough to know when he's licked. Meekly obedient, he perches on the edge of the designated sofa, resisting the urge to sink deep into it and leave bloodstains on the plush leather back. "Alright," Koa mumbles as Flora leaves him, forlornly gazing at the empty hand that had just been grasping hers.

Without her warmth he's becoming aware of the bruised splitting on his knuckles, the way his body seems to shake of its own accord. Clenching his wrist as though to stop the trembling, Koa leans forward as he's told, a wave of nausea once more rising like lava into his throat. "'M sorry," he mutters, closing his eyes against the fireworks that are caused by looking at even the dimmest light. "I saw you were in danger and I didn't think, just--- aw, fuck," Koa hisses as the towel touches his cracked skull, healing water burning as it works his magic to repair the worst of his TBI.

With each love I cut loose, I was never the same
Watching still living roots be consumed by the flame

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

your touch brought forth an incandescent glow, tarnished but so grand

The bar isn't bleeding, Flora might have said. At least, not its own blood. Instead, the Doubletake just shrugs her shoulders bouncily. "Nah, I've got people for that." By people she of course meant her dads and possibly Danta and Asta, but that was an issue for another day.

"Sorry for what?" Trying on a laugh to see how it suited the situation—poorly, like a too-bright scarf against an otherwise drab ensemble—Flora cleared her throat. "Koa I might have died were it not for you." She adds far more softly, sincerely, unable to help the way her mind wondered if Jack would have ever stepped in to take a hit like that for her and decided that if he did, it would only be because of the time he'd invested into her.

Bending one of her knees behind Koa as she kneels next to him on the couch, Flora flinches at his hiss of pain, her free hand immediately rubbing his bicep soothingly. "Sorry! I know it hurts." She purred softly, removing the towel—gods, the blood was so dark—before pouring a little of the Fountain Water right onto the wound itself.

KOA

"Nah, you woulda handled him." He tries to smile but it comes out like a grimace, levity dissolving into streaks of pain. "I wasn't gonna let anything happen to you," he adds more softly, with a conviction that is neither boastful nor unsteady. He may not be able to keep himself from hurting Flora, but damn if he's gonna let anyone else so much as try.

"Don't worry, I've had worse." This may or may not be true - to Koa's albiet hazy recollection, this is definitely Not Great. Still, he can feel his head already clearing, the roman candles of agony behind his eyes cooling into something more like sparklers.

With healing comes exhaustion, bone-weary emptiness as his tension slowly ebbs away. Without being fully aware of it the Dragoon leans into Flora, laying his bruised hand on the one that cups his bicep, his thumb running gently over knuckles less split and damaged than his. "You're good at that," Koa whispers, copper eyes fluttering shut as the water cascades into his wound. It mixes with dark blood, rivulets of pink gleaming on his neck, staining the collar of his pale blue sweater a dark and rusty red.

With each love I cut loose, I was never the same
Watching still living roots be consumed by the flame

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!