The Ark
The fact that Jack doesn’t startle—that his touch stays light, his balance sure, his presence steady as ever—eases her almost at once. The pain doesn’t vanish, but it loosens its grip, ebbing back like a receding undertow. She follows where he leads without question, instinct as old as her keel guiding her steps, confusion trailing behind her like a wake but never doubting the Captain for a second.
"Hungry," she repeats, tasting the word with a short, disbelieving huff of laughter. She cuts him an amused look, the sort that pretends at irritation while never quite managing it. "You couldn’t have spared me this when you were questing?" The thought of food stirs half-memories: Lazarus’s galley thick with warmth and spice, the comfort of it drifting through her timbers, and, less fondly, the slosh of dishwater and scraps spilled thoughtlessly into her seams such that the overall idea she has of eating is a rather disgusting one.
She studies the spread as if a choice might suddenly announce itself, eyes moving over colour and shape with no map to guide her. At last she reaches out and drags a finger through a small bowl of honey meant for dibbing, the only thing there that looks even vaguely like water. It clings, slow and golden, slipping down to her knuckles, and she doesn’t bother to stop it. The Ark lifts her hand and brings the finger to her mouth where her lips close around it, soft and unhurried, and her tongue follows, drawing the sweetness away. The taste hits all at once—bright and thick and overwhelming—and her eyes widen, breath catching as the sensation blooms through her, richer than any spilled sugar she’s ever carried.
"...Never mind," she murmurs around the last trace of it, glancing back at Jack with something like awe. She doesn’t wait; grasping the bowl, she tips it to her lips and drinks, honey spilling freely, trailing down her chin and throat like liquid sunlight. She laughs under her breath as she swallows, utterly unbothered by the mess, newly delighted by the simple, astonishing richness of it.
"Hungry," she repeats, tasting the word with a short, disbelieving huff of laughter. She cuts him an amused look, the sort that pretends at irritation while never quite managing it. "You couldn’t have spared me this when you were questing?" The thought of food stirs half-memories: Lazarus’s galley thick with warmth and spice, the comfort of it drifting through her timbers, and, less fondly, the slosh of dishwater and scraps spilled thoughtlessly into her seams such that the overall idea she has of eating is a rather disgusting one.
She studies the spread as if a choice might suddenly announce itself, eyes moving over colour and shape with no map to guide her. At last she reaches out and drags a finger through a small bowl of honey meant for dibbing, the only thing there that looks even vaguely like water. It clings, slow and golden, slipping down to her knuckles, and she doesn’t bother to stop it. The Ark lifts her hand and brings the finger to her mouth where her lips close around it, soft and unhurried, and her tongue follows, drawing the sweetness away. The taste hits all at once—bright and thick and overwhelming—and her eyes widen, breath catching as the sensation blooms through her, richer than any spilled sugar she’s ever carried.
"...Never mind," she murmurs around the last trace of it, glancing back at Jack with something like awe. She doesn’t wait; grasping the bowl, she tips it to her lips and drinks, honey spilling freely, trailing down her chin and throat like liquid sunlight. She laughs under her breath as she swallows, utterly unbothered by the mess, newly delighted by the simple, astonishing richness of it.
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.
