The Ark
The Ark grins at that and lifts one shoulder in an easy shrug, like a sail catching a kinder wind than expected. "Some days I’m easier to handle than others," she says lightly. "That was flattery too." The grin that follows is pure triumph, cat-who-got-the-cream, and she shakes her head, red hair spilling and shifting over her shoulders like loose canvas. "You can count your wins with me on one hand," she adds, amused. "And you’ll still have fingers left."
At the mention of the woods, the smirk eases off her mouth as she turns it over. She leans back a fraction, weight settling, listening to things beyond the cabin walls. "I heard him say you could flood it," she offers, almost bright with the thought, hope flickering there before she exhales and lets it go. "I still prefer the ocean, but...I’ll take whatever gets you back on course."
Her gaze drifts, considering Vesper in the same way she considers a new hand at the helm. The demigod feels different underfoot. The right motions, learned clean enough, hands moving where they should, weight kept where it belongs, but everything still carries a new rind with it. Fresh grain. No wear yet. No history pressed into the boards. She lets him steer, lets him try her balance, but she keeps a weather eye on it all, listening for the note that says someone knows where they’re going rather than just how to move. Jack had been young too. Scrappy. Too thin, too stubborn. But even then, there had been a pull in him, a direction set hard beneath the surface. He’d come aboard with a horizon already chosen, even if he didn’t yet have the maps to prove it. Every course he took her on bent toward something he meant to build.
"Family’s new water for both of us," she says and shrugs, the scant fabric at her breasts shifting with the movement. "But he doesn't seem like he knows what he wants yet, sounds like he's doing it to run away from something else, and that isn't the sort of course I've ever followed before." It wasn't one Jack had ever asked her to follow before.
At the mention of the woods, the smirk eases off her mouth as she turns it over. She leans back a fraction, weight settling, listening to things beyond the cabin walls. "I heard him say you could flood it," she offers, almost bright with the thought, hope flickering there before she exhales and lets it go. "I still prefer the ocean, but...I’ll take whatever gets you back on course."
Her gaze drifts, considering Vesper in the same way she considers a new hand at the helm. The demigod feels different underfoot. The right motions, learned clean enough, hands moving where they should, weight kept where it belongs, but everything still carries a new rind with it. Fresh grain. No wear yet. No history pressed into the boards. She lets him steer, lets him try her balance, but she keeps a weather eye on it all, listening for the note that says someone knows where they’re going rather than just how to move. Jack had been young too. Scrappy. Too thin, too stubborn. But even then, there had been a pull in him, a direction set hard beneath the surface. He’d come aboard with a horizon already chosen, even if he didn’t yet have the maps to prove it. Every course he took her on bent toward something he meant to build.
"Family’s new water for both of us," she says and shrugs, the scant fabric at her breasts shifting with the movement. "But he doesn't seem like he knows what he wants yet, sounds like he's doing it to run away from something else, and that isn't the sort of course I've ever followed before." It wasn't one Jack had ever asked her to follow before.
Her touch is like a tempest, her whisper is a breeze,
but when she has a temper, she'll bring you to your knees
but when she has a temper, she'll bring you to your knees
Code stolen from Queen Sky
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.
