wish I could bottle the taste
The Ark lets his frustration crest and pass without meeting it head-on, her shoulders lifting in a small, unbothered shrug that reads more like acceptance than disagreement. "People who live in a place usually know it best," she says lightly, her tone easy, as though the idea requires no defence at all. When he leans into certainty—into what could be done by the resident demigods—her smile deepens just a fraction, subtle but deliberate, her brows lifting as she echoes him softly. "Could," she repeats, the word gentle as it is pointed to emphasize that whatever Ronin and Remi could be doing, at present they weren't.
His praise of the people draws a quiet tilt of her head, something thoughtful and faintly amused threading through her expression, her eyes brightening as if to remind him of how recently he said those people weren't to be listened to, at least on the topic of their rather beloved Captain.
When he returns with the smoothie, she accepts it with a small, gracious dip of her head, her fingers brushing his as she takes it, light and unhurried. "Thank you," she murmurs, before lifting it to her lips and taking a long, slow sip. The sound she makes as she exhales after is soft and indulgent, a quiet sigh that lingers just enough to be felt, her eyes closing briefly as though the taste alone has eased something deeper. She lowers the cup and considers for a moment, her gaze dropping to her ankle as she rolls it once, then again, careful, testing, her mouth tightening faintly as though expecting pain that doesn’t quite come. There’s a pause—a held breath—and then her expression brightens all at once, a small, delighted gasp slipping free as she rises smoothly to her feet, the movement effortless, unburdened.
"My hero," she says, the words warm and playful, her smile widening as she looks at him, before stepping closer. It happens without urgency, without any sharp shift to mark it, her siren's presence simply drawing in, closing the space between them until there is none left to notice. One hand lifts lightly to his shoulder, not to steady herself this time but to anchor him. She leans in, her hair slipping forward, the faint scent of salt deepening as she moves, and presses a kiss to his cheek. As she pulls back, it doesn’t quite follow the same path. The motion drifts, just slightly, the brush of her lips trailing near the corner of his mouth before she straightens, the shift so subtle it almost escapes notice.
"I’ll know who to find next time there’s trouble," she says with a wink, before she turns. The crowd folds around her easily, swallowing her presence in a way that feels less like disappearance and more like a retreating tide, leaving behind only the faintest trace of salt on the air, the echo of distant water, and a quiet, restless pull that lingers in the chest long after she’s gone.
~FIN
His praise of the people draws a quiet tilt of her head, something thoughtful and faintly amused threading through her expression, her eyes brightening as if to remind him of how recently he said those people weren't to be listened to, at least on the topic of their rather beloved Captain.
When he returns with the smoothie, she accepts it with a small, gracious dip of her head, her fingers brushing his as she takes it, light and unhurried. "Thank you," she murmurs, before lifting it to her lips and taking a long, slow sip. The sound she makes as she exhales after is soft and indulgent, a quiet sigh that lingers just enough to be felt, her eyes closing briefly as though the taste alone has eased something deeper. She lowers the cup and considers for a moment, her gaze dropping to her ankle as she rolls it once, then again, careful, testing, her mouth tightening faintly as though expecting pain that doesn’t quite come. There’s a pause—a held breath—and then her expression brightens all at once, a small, delighted gasp slipping free as she rises smoothly to her feet, the movement effortless, unburdened.
"My hero," she says, the words warm and playful, her smile widening as she looks at him, before stepping closer. It happens without urgency, without any sharp shift to mark it, her siren's presence simply drawing in, closing the space between them until there is none left to notice. One hand lifts lightly to his shoulder, not to steady herself this time but to anchor him. She leans in, her hair slipping forward, the faint scent of salt deepening as she moves, and presses a kiss to his cheek. As she pulls back, it doesn’t quite follow the same path. The motion drifts, just slightly, the brush of her lips trailing near the corner of his mouth before she straightens, the shift so subtle it almost escapes notice.
"I’ll know who to find next time there’s trouble," she says with a wink, before she turns. The crowd folds around her easily, swallowing her presence in a way that feels less like disappearance and more like a retreating tide, leaving behind only the faintest trace of salt on the air, the echo of distant water, and a quiet, restless pull that lingers in the chest long after she’s gone.
~FIN
'cause i'd drink up the look on your face
Siren's Wake | After she leaves a space, traces of her presence linger briefly: a faint scent of salt, the sound of distant water, a restless feeling in the chest. People rarely notice it consciously.
