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[attr="class","star2"]Curiosity propels Fern closer, only for the bubble of the ocean’s surface to pull their attention.
Was this what you were looking for? they think, though Tapu Koko likely cannot hear their pondering. The petal pink surf rises and flows outward as if whatever is causing it
knows they are here.[break][break]
Like it knows what they follow.[break][break]
As if to answer the wash of pink that rolls across the uneasy water and laps the shore, bright light splits across the darkened sky in a deluge that shoots toward the damp sand of the shoreline and crackles underfoot. There is no apprehension in Fern’s steps as the
ELECTRIC TERRAIN of the Tapu Koko cuts through the other, because in the passing days they have learned that they will remain unharmed.[break][break]
It is the threat that gives Fern pause. An uneven canter in their heart that eventually levels out as familiarity takes hold. It does little to quell their interest or their confusion.[break][break]
“I could suggest the same of you,” they respond with a coy twist to their tone, though they do little to remain hidden. Their brows climb at the voice that reaches their good ear, though, simply because it is one they know rather than a stranger's.
“Though this is a surprising turn, Underboss Fiorelli.”[break][break]
Their laughter follows. An amused sound as bright and sharp as the sparks that dart and flare around them in jagged fragments. All this talk of shadows and light– it matters little, because Fern has
become a source of the light itself. And they find it to be terribly revealing. Though they have always enjoyed being
seen, in this instance they feel far too exposed.[break][break]
Fern is not so foolish that they would turn away from her entirely, but their eyes
do drift out over the water–or rather, the tumultuous sky above. [break][break]
Intrigued as to whether or not their
attachment might present itself as well.
“How strange to find you here at this hour.”[break][break]
Elisabeth Fiorelli FERNANDO SILPH //
tapu hours[break]
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