call me chaos, call me divine

JACK

"Guess we will," Jack says with a raise of his eyebrows that suggests there might just be a kernel of worry buried there in the curiosity. Having his ship drown is not a prospect he likes to consider much at any point, let alone when she's wrapped in the shape of fair skin and fiery hair and ample curves. They stop before the crew has much of a chance to contribute, the Captain laughing under his breath at their clear confusion, before he's calling out orders to lower the anchor and the sails down.

Before long The Ark is sitting pretty in the Stillwave, a lone ship on an expanse of calm, bright blue bordered by sandy shorelines. It makes for a nice picture, even if the galleon in question - in both shape and spirit - seems more like a wild animal that has stopped for a rest than anything that truly belongs here.

By the time The Ark is peering over the rail and into the deep with the breeze catching at the hem of his shirt, Jack is calling for the crew to spend a day at ease, and it takes mere moments before the boldest individuals are shedding clothes and finding a good place to dive in. The Captain, at least, holds fire for now, drawing up beside her and considering the soft lap of waves against the hull. "We've got manta crystals," he says, "if you'd prefer. You wear 'em here," and by here, he brushes a gentle finger against the hollow of her throat, "an' they let you breathe in the water."

fight so dirty but you love so sweet
talk so pretty but your heart got teeth

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!