The flood thing

As for policing? He waved his hand dismissively, rolling his eyes at the thought. Nah, we’re not here to play guards. Megara’s big on freedom—don’t get me wrong, they’ve got rules. But no one’s about to make us the bad guys just for standing here and teaching ’em a few good moves. This is about self-defense, the strength to walk the streets and know you don’t need to look over your shoulder every five seconds. Slavers? They’d be lucky to make it past the border. We’re here to keep people safe, but we’re not about to turn into the iron-fisted ‘peacekeepers.’

Bajie took a breath, looking up at the towering trees, their ancient branches stretching toward the sky, the city bathed in the light of the past and the possibility of a future they could be proud of.

This is a place of hope, Flea, he said, his voice quieter now, something solemn in his gaze. A place that’s been given a second chance, just like us. And if it means a little sweat and some hard-earned bruises to give these folks a shot at keeping it? I’m all in.

His eyes found hers, and he could see her coming around to the idea, piece by piece. The fight to live was something she knew intimately, and this was just another way of making sure others had a chance to fight and live on their own terms.

So, what do you say, Flea? Ready to teach these poor fools a thing or two about staying alive? I’ll make sure they don’t give you too much lip—although, knowing you, you’ll handle it just fine.

He winked, a glint of the old mischief that had gotten him through more scrapes than he cared to count. He could already picture it: Flea drilling the eager new recruits, a look of hardened resolve on her face as they looked to her not just for training, but for a sliver of her spirit, the iron will that had kept her standing even when everything else had tried to knock her down.

@Little Flea