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+---- Thread: i'm the storm your mama warned you about (/showthread.php?tid=12622)
RE: i'm the storm your mama warned you about - Jack - 03-22-2026
Jack feels the shift in her like something physical, like warm water gone cold in the late night, and his brows flinch together in something that wants to be a frown but can't quite commit to it. He does pause in their stroll along the beach though, her bare feet and his boots leaving paired together prints in the sand, and his jaw feathers almost imperceptibly, but in a way she'll undoubtedly know and feel like her hand has been on his cheek the whole time.
[say]"When I picked us up an' moved us to King's End I wasn't exactly firin' on all cylinders,"[/say] he says. The Captain had been hollowed out by something that left his mind barren and burning, fit for little more than escape. [say]"Which was why we left in the first place."[/say] There had been method to the madness, even if it had been mostly madness that fuelled it. Staying would have been a deathwish, a commitment to show himself as bait in a sea full of sharks.
Blue eyes cast a line out at the fading line where sea meets sky, as if to avoid all the things her mind prods at that hit deeper than he cares to admit, Jack's fingers suddenly cold against her bare flesh. He flexes his hand a little; a silent, almost apology for it.
[say]"It ain't that,"[/say] he says, gesturing to the saccharine message in the sky behind them. [say]"But it ain't not about her."[/say] The admission that anyone else would have had to pry from him like a bad tooth comes easily when it's The Ark, and he shakes his head and starts to walk again.
[say]"If I knew we could come back for good an' just settle in the way things were before, that'd be fine. But Flora's gonna find somethin' in it to get in our business. Some reason to be pissed off, some excuse to be in our way or get in my space."[/say] Not to mention that she's the Queen of Torchline, and there's something bitter in the idea of contributing to a region she rules.
RE: i'm the storm your mama warned you about - The Ark - 03-22-2026
Had the moment been any other, she might have laughed at that—firing on all cylinders—might have teased the truth of what he’d burned through and how violently he’d done it, but the thought never quite makes it to her mouth. It flickers and dies instead, smothered under the weight of what he does say, under the shape of the admission that follows.
She doesn’t pull away when his hand goes cold against her skin, doesn’t flinch or shiver, only leans into the slight flex of his fingers as though the change in him is something to be met rather than avoided, her body fitting closer without hesitation. As he says that it ain’t not about her, Jack will feel the way her mind surges and pulls back all at once, not with jealousy, but something far more violent, far less yielding. Fury rises clean and bright through her, not messy, not uncertain, but absolute in the way it takes hold, in the way it refuses to be softened or reasoned with. For everything he had done to pull himself away, for the distance he had carved out at cost to himself and everyone tied to him, for the way he had left rather than remain caught in her orbit, it still isn’t enough. Flora still occupies space in his mind, still shapes decisions, still reaches this far, and the thought of it sits in her like something corrosive.
She says nothing at first, walking beside him in silence as the anger shifts, not fading but stretching, pulling outward like a storm blown across open water, losing none of its force even as it settles farther away. Eventually she breathes in, slow and deliberate, lifting her head as she glances at him over her shoulder, her expression no longer volatile but sharpened, focused. [say]"Okay,"[/say] she says, simply. [say]"So we stop her before she can."[/say]
[say]"Everyone knows the undercity’s been chaos since you left, and with Hadama gone all of that falls right onto her,"[/say] she continues, her voice smoothing into something almost conversational, though the edge beneath it never disappears. [say]"And you said yourself at least half the captains in there would be relieved to see you back. That’s already a higher approval rating than she's probably got."[/say] Her gaze holds on his, steady, unflinching. [say]"What bigger fuck you could we give her, than making you indispensable in her own region?"[/say] What reason could she come up with to bully or bother him, if she knew that Jack leaving the islands for the second time would be pinned on her, that all subsequent losses from the Captain's departure would be ones that not only could she not make up for, but couldn't escape from, either.
[say]"Or,"[/say] she adds, glancing at him over her shoulder again, her blue eyes gone the colour of midnight beneath her salty lashes. [say]"I'm sure her pre-engagement wedding isn't the only secret she's got."[/say] Surely blackmail wasn't off the table.
RE: i'm the storm your mama warned you about - Jack - 03-22-2026
[say]"If it pisses you off, just imagine how I feel,"[/say] Jack drawls, the slightest hint of amusement in his voice as he feels the cut of her anger slice across his telepathy, searing through the magic as clean and terrible as a sudden storm out at sea. They walk and leave the glowing shoreline behind - most of it, anyway - and the docks start to take on more shape and detail as they draw closer to the familiar masts and lowered sails against the night.
His lip curls with distaste at the mere idea of doing anything to do with Flora, whether it's to strike preemptively or to get ahead of whatever bridges she might feel like burning on a whim, but there's no denying that The Ark has a good point, and between them she's the one better able to think clearly on the situation.
[say]"Ah, fuck her secrets,"[/say] he nevertheless mutters to the siren's last point, weary exasperation written clear in the twist in his expression. [say]"If I wanted to go gunnin' for her, movin' back to Torchline would be a no brainer,"[/say] he points out. [say]"But that's the thing - I don't want malice an' I don't wanna be amicable. I want nothin' when it comes to Flora. Indifference would suit me just fine."[/say]
But he sighs, the breath clouding the air before them, and casts her a sideways glance. [say]"You're right, though. 'Bout the undercity. Maybe that'll be enough to make her keep her distance."[/say] Or maybe it won't. But doing nothing sure as fuck won't give them the answer.
RE: i'm the storm your mama warned you about - The Ark - 03-22-2026
Now it's the Ark's turn to feather her jaw, tension pulling tight and then holding as his words settle between them. Jack’s anger runs hotter, sharper, closer to the bone, but what rises in her is something colder and heavier, the kind that comes from being forced to watch rather than act, from knowing exactly what she would do if given the chance and having nowhere to put it. It is one thing for him to carry what Flora has done to him; it is another entirely for her to feel the weight of it and have no clean way to answer it, no place to drive it back where it belongs.
She turns her head to him as he glances over, her gaze catching his fully. There is something almost searching in it, the blue of her eyes deep and shifting, not soft but not cutting either, holding him there long enough to read the line of his mouth, the set of his expression, the way something in him seems to resist even the agreement he gives. It doesn't look like satisfaction, it looks like concession.
[say]"It’s been nearly a year,"[/say] she says quietly, the words slipping out without judgment, without accusation, only the steady weight of time laid plainly between them. [say]"You’ve been gone that whole time, and she’s gone and got herself married and still..."[/say] Her voice trails, the rest of it left hanging because it doesn’t need finishing, because the truth of it is already there in the space between them. She shakes her head once, small, controlled, as if dismissing something that refuses to be dismissed.
The anger doesn’t flare again; it settles instead, forced down, contained in the same way his is, in the same way neither of them seem able to rid themselves of it entirely. [say]"I don’t think she’s ever going to leave you alone,"[/say] she admits after a moment, her voice lower now, the edge of it dulled not by softness but by something closer to reluctant understanding. [say]"And if what you need is indifference to come back..."[/say] Her gaze drops briefly, then lifts again, meeting his with something steadier, something that carries the weight of what she doesn’t want to accept but does anyway. [say]"I don’t think you’re ever going to get it."[/say] Though Flora had written in her letter that she'd always love Jack, the Ark thought all it really ended up meaning was that she'd never fully let him go. Real love, after all, didn't fit like a noose.
RE: i'm the storm your mama warned you about - Jack - 03-22-2026
[say]"An' still I get letters askin' me to make bindin' agreements with Safrin,"[/say] Jack agrees, the eyeroll all in his tone. It doesn't matter in this context, that the agreement had actually been wildly and unexpectedly beneficial to the Captain (and woe betide them if Flora ever figures that out). It's the fact that those letters could come any time she makes something up in her mind that puts him as the culprit, weighted with the threat of poisoned feather knives or channelling deities or half a dozen demigods at her beck and call.
He grumbles something under his breath that's mostly a curse as The Ark lays out the truth of it that he thinks they've both always known, Jack glaring quietly at the sand that starts to drift into the boardwalk. [say]"I don't need indifference, love,"[/say] he says, and it feels less like a concession this time and more like a step towards halfway. [say]"I'd just really fuckin' like it."[/say]
Ignoring, for once, the way the eyes of the late-night dock workers rove all over The Ark's very naked and very attractive body, Jack considers compromise. [say]"We never used to stay in Torchline all year round,"[/say] he points out; back before politics and romance and, let's be honest, war had made it more difficult. [say]"We'd cast out each Flowerbirth to avoid the worst of the monsoons beyond the region, an' again in Leafchange after the heat faded."[/say] Perhaps there's an existence where they try that out, keeping one foot in the Arclight and the other wherever the wind blew.
RE: i'm the storm your mama warned you about - The Ark - 03-22-2026
The Ark only nods at the mention of Flora’s letter, because whatever advantage had come of them doesn’t change the shape of it; the fact remains that as Queen, Flora can reach for him whenever she chooses, can summon him into her orbit whether he wants it or not, and the reminder of that sits in the Ark like something heavy and unwelcome.
His compromise settles just as heavily, though for different reasons, and she feels it immediately, the way it sits wrong against the grain of her, the way it sounds—reasonable, measured, fair—when all she can hear beneath it is a careful attempt to balance two opposing tides without being pulled under by either. It is a good plan. It is a smart plan. It is also, unmistakably, a plan that leaves space for Flora to continue existing in the margins of all of Jack's ledgers, and that alone is enough to sour it.
The sand gives way to wood beneath her feet, but she doesn’t stop to put on her boots; for however soft her skin, her penchant for walking barefoot had made the souls of her feet remarkably tough. She makes a quiet sound in response to him, something low and noncommittal, not quite agreement, not quite refusal, if only because she does understand; she understands the instinct to pull away from something that won’t leave you be, to choose distance where proximity only invites trouble. But understanding it doesn’t make it easier to accept, not when she has been made to push forward, to take, to win, and now finds herself forced to step back while Flora continues to hold ground that should not be hers.
She tries, for a moment, to turn her thoughts elsewhere, to consider other directions, other ventures, wondering if more could be carved out of King’s End, if something greater might be built there with enough time and pressure, but the sleepy region is still in its infancy, and unfortunately, the Ark has no maternal instincts.
In the end, she glances at him, her expression steadier than she feels, and says quietly, [say]"you’re the captain,"[/say] in a tone that is neither petulant or resentful. He is, and she was made to follow where he leads, to go where he takes her, whether the course cuts clean through open water or skirts something she would rather crash straight into, and stubborn as she may be, she will still go.
RE: i'm the storm your mama warned you about - Jack - 03-22-2026
Jack rolls his shoulders a little as they stroll across the boardwalk, as if The Ark's opinion of the ill-fitting plan has made him feel uneasy in himself as well. His fingers - a little warmer again now - pulse an apology against her hip, for the way their course suddenly seems clearer but not any more enjoyable for it, and he arches an eyebrow at the muted concession leaves her lips. [say]"A captain ain't a captain without a ship,"[/say] he points out.
His steps slow enough for him to turn towards her, his free hand rising to reach out and tilt her chin up towards him. Jack's kiss, when it lands, is wrapped in a soft sort of greed, a hunger that burns low but understands patience when it needs to. [say]"We ain't gotta solve it in a night,"[/say] he points out when they part. [say]"We're here, an' we ain't goin' anywhere for a good few days. Who knows what direction the wind will blow us in tomorrow."[/say]
RE: i'm the storm your mama warned you about - The Ark - 03-22-2026
The Ark has weathered colder things than this, has known the waters of the Eurybia that have cracked lesser vessels clean through, and so the lingering chill of his fingers against her hip barely registers in her body, though her mind still steadies for it, the restless churn smoothing as the warmth returns to his touch. She leans into, her head tipping slightly as her voice slips out low, touched with something wry. [say]"That’s why you’ll always be one."[/say] As long as she exists, he will never be without a ship, all the more so now that she can take her place at his side on land as well as at sea.
When he slows, she turns with him, her chin lifting beneath his hand without resistance, her gaze already on his before his lips meet hers. His patience is there in the kiss, measured and deliberate, but hers is not; her response immediate and wanting, her fingers tightening at his waist as though to pull him closer, to close whatever space he might still be leaving between them. For all the decades she’s known him, for all she’s learned watching him grow into something sharper, steadier, watching the fuse of his temper length, she has not learned that same restraint. Especially in this body, the want in her to demand all that she thinks Jack is owed still comes quick, still presses forward with the certainty that it should be met.
She parts from him on a breath, her lips curving as his words settle. [say]"Who knows,"[/say] she echoes, the agreement soft but edged, her smile deepening into something more dangerous and wicked. The Ark leans in again before the thought can stretch any further, her mouth finding his with even less patience this time, tasting the lingering sweetness of rum on his lips.
RE: i'm the storm your mama warned you about - Jack - 03-22-2026
Whatever turbulence that had stirred between them out on the beach melts away now, and Jack seems to thaw with it. For all that they have known one another in a thousand different ways across the years, this is still vibrant and new between them, but the Captain thinks he's slowly starting to understand the core of The Ark and the place she carves at his side when they step out together like this. It settles over him like the cool spray of seafoam on a too-hot day, and as she draws him in again Jack goes without complaint, his hands dropping to her hips to draw her flush against him while his tongue writes wicked promises against her own.
He hasn't realised it until now, that The Ark's fire and fury comes from somewhere protective, that her frustration stems from a vengeance she thinks he's entitled to, one she'd be happy to enact on his behalf. Suffice to say that Jack has been a number of things to a number of people in his life, but he's never been something to fight for, and it's as refreshing as it is surprising.
[say]"If we go back to the ship you gotta promise not to throw us into the sky,"[/say] he mutters with a crooked smile against her lips. [say]"Kaiholo's a lot busier than the Castaway. Otherwise, I reckon I know a place."[/say]
RE: i'm the storm your mama warned you about - The Ark - 03-22-2026
The heat that sparks low in her belly no longer needs to ask permission to be there, no longer is something that screams of warning such that she doesn't even consider tempering it as his hands settle at her hips and draw her in; her own response is immediate, her fingers slipping beneath the hem of his shirt where it’s tucked into his pants, dragging upward just enough to find skin, her grip there claw-like and unmistakably possessive, as though anchoring him in place rather than letting him choose the distance between them.
[say]"Maybe it would teach them not to berth so close to me,"[/say] she murmurs against his mouth, her voice threaded through with mischief, the curve of her lips lingering just shy of a smile.
The want to wind her fingers into his hair and pull him closer the way she wants to nearly has her dropping her clothes, but the motion stalls, her head tilting instead as she draws back just enough to look at him, long waves of red sliding over her shoulders and down her back as she studies him with a narrowing, considering gaze. [say]"You’ve already asked me for patience tonight,"[/say] she says, one brow lifting, [say]"and now you want restraint too?"[/say]
There’s a quiet challenge in it, playful but real, and her attention slips past him even as she says it, her gaze drifting over his shoulder toward the darkened stretch of Kaiholo beyond. The market stalls sit mostly abandoned at this hour, shadows pooling between them, benches left empty, alleyways half-swallowed by darkness, the shoreline still close enough to hear, and she considers each of them in turn without the slightest regard for propriety or privacy, the possibilities laid out as plainly as the path beneath her bare feet.
When her eyes return to him, there’s nothing uncertain in them, only that same steady, intent heat, as though wherever he suggests they go next, she’s already decided she isn’t inclined to wait very long once they get there.
RE: i'm the storm your mama warned you about - Jack - 03-22-2026
[say]"Maybe it'd make those other ships jealous,"[/say] Jack fires back. Based on her thoughts tonight about captains and what they'd do if their vessels were able to walk on land as she could, he gets the impression she'd not hesistate to show other hulls what they might be missing. As her fingers claw beneath his shirt, proprietary and impatient, the smile that forms on his lips is half swallowed up by the next kiss he presses to her mouth, already well able to imagine what might take place in the shuttered darkness of a market stall or against the brickwork of a shadowed alleyway.
Jack has other ideas, though, and he parts from her with a gruff laugh and a wink that concedes that he knows he's asked too much of her. [say]"No restraint, then,"[/say] he mutters, tugging her along with him to avoid having her drop her clothes to the ground for some lucky worker to find later.
They don't go far, something he's certain she'll appreciate, and whilst it does look, at first, as though Jack has opted for alleyway, there's a small door almost hidden from view at the end of it. No one is in there tonight, the Captain already well aware of that much, and whilst there's a key behind a loose brick in the wall near their feet, he opts to blast the lock away with a crackle of lightning.
It's an old bolthole - perfectly situated just off the boardwalk in case of emergencies, when poor timing or unforseen circumstances call for laying low. Jack isn't the only one who uses it, as is evident by the way the place smells of faint but fresh cigar smoke and spiced rum, but it's empty and there's a serviceable bed against one of the walls. And that'll fucking do.
RE: i'm the storm your mama warned you about - The Ark - 03-22-2026
A dark, pleased curl of delight moves through her at Jack's answer, the sound she makes low and satisfied, more breath than voice. [say]"Good,"[/say] she purrs, not bothering to hide the thought of what that might stir in the minds of those ship's captains, before dismissing it just as quickly in favour of the man in front of her.
She follows when he pulls her, her body falling into step as easily as water through a ravine, anticipation threading through her bright and sharp until it colours everything. It shows in her eyes, the blue darkening, deepening into something far more dangerous as her focus narrows entirely to him and the direction he’s taking her. The alley draws a quick, eager grin from her, but it shifts almost immediately when the door reveals itself, her expression sharpening into something more predatory, something intent, and when he blasts the lock away the crack of it sends a thrill straight through her, clean and electric.
Inside, the space tells its own story, and she feels it as much as she sees it; the shape of it, the purpose, the history of it settling into her with a clarity that doesn’t need explanation. This was him, or had been, a piece of the man he was before she could follow him onto land, before she could stand beside him like this and not just beneath his feet, and the realisation sparks something carnal in her, something that feels like stepping back through time and inserting herself in a moment she'd always belonged in.
The Ark drops her clothes immediately, discarded where she stands as she closes the distance between them in a single, unbroken movement, her hands threading into his hair with a grip that is feline and claiming. She rises into him as she does, arcing close, her body fitting against his with no space left between before her mouth finds his again without waiting, her lips immediate and demanding.
RE: i'm the storm your mama warned you about - Jack - 03-24-2026
They can discuss the bolthole and its various impacts on Jack's life later - for right now he'd like to add another memory to it, one that will leave its mark on their shared past far more than any of the other times he's holed up here. The Ark drops her clothes and the Captain has just enough time to wedge a small chair under the door (y'know, since the lock sustained some accidental damage unrelated to either of them) before she's closing the distance between them again, his warm hands grasping her close, his kiss as impatient and demanding as her own.
Moaning something rough and approving into her mouth as she rises against him, Jack steps further into the room, into her space, until her back meets one of the walls. One hand skims lower, squeezing her ass and sweeping beneath her thigh to lift her leg against his hips, leaving them frustratingly wanting thanks to the suddenly confining fabric of his pants. His free hand follows the hourglass of her waist up to one perfect, peaked breast, squeezing as if to encourage her already to let the rest of Torchline where they are and what they're up to.
RE: i'm the storm your mama warned you about - The Ark - 03-24-2026
The wall meets her back and instead of yielding to it she arches forward, pressing into him with a restless insistence that refuses even that small space, her hands tightening in his hair as if to anchor him there while her mouth answers his with equal hunger. One long leg winds high around his hip, drawing him closer still, and the press of him against her—hard, unmistakable even through the barrier of his pants—pulls a low, dark note from her throat, something pleased and sharp-edged all at once. [say]"I’m going to have you,"[/say] she breathes against his mouth, the words not soft, not coaxing, but certain.
It is nothing like the things he’s been told before, none of the breathless wanting or invitation for him to take the lead; there is no yielding in her, no suggestion that this belongs to him to decide or that she intends to play a passive role.
Her hands leave his hair slowly, deliberately, dragging down the line of him before settling at his waist, fingers quick and sure as they find his belt. She shifts again, pushing slightly away from the wall only to make space for it, to give herself room to take what she’s already decided is hers.