Stavanger Bay Smoking Embers

oh, boy, here we gooo…Kan, forgive Fleur’s inner monologue. Woof.

Tears having dried on their own, Fleurette had made the decision to return to Ia, despite failing at her promise of bringing Andr to help. She half expected Ia to have already fled, or, rather, have vanished into thin air. The girl was a ghostly shell, but Fleurette knew that there was more, something real inside of Ia. Whatever it was, it called to her, a siren singing its song to pull her underneath the waves once more.

She followed it from her’s and Andr’s makeshift den. The magnetic pull drawing her nearer and nearer until she could scent Ia on the wind…and another’s? One she recognized, the only other scent she has come to know after washing ashore.

Andr. She moved faster, her speed fueled by her want to see him, to apologize for leaving, to lead him to Ia in hopes that maybe he could help her stricken friend. What she did not expect, though, was to witness Andr and Ia in an embrace, one that appeared similar to the one she attempted to give him not so long ago. The same one that he was now freely giving Ia, who was buried into him as if he was her…strength.

Like he was for Fleurette, the only steady thing in her life. 

And just like that, the damn broke, liquid green jealousy coursed in her veins, hot and heavy. What was so wrong about her that he couldn’t stand her touch, yet he can greedily drink in this wretch of a girl that she had found cowering in a cave? She was barely present, a feral urchin, scarred and broken and as fragile as shattered glass. 

How could he touch the girl, but not Fleurette?

A low growl sat deep in her chest, one she didn’t necessarily want to pass her lips. It was a manifestation of her inner turmoil; feeling alone in a world where she has nothing and no one, but Andr, was hard on her psyche. The display before her had only made it worse. But, she also felt something for Ia, and feeling this disgusting emotion towards the broken girl was not her. Her heart pained with every beat, a hammer threatening to burst her chest open and spill her thoughts and feelings into the open. 

She didn’t want that, not when her new friend was hurting. Fleurette’s hurt can wait. So, she quieted the hammering heart, deep breaths simmering the green fire to nothing more than burning ash.

She spoke, her voice small, questioning. Shattered.

“Andr?”