The Ark
The Ark wrinkles her nose, allowing Jack to guide her without protest, her fingers resting lightly at his side as they move back toward the tide. Even in irritation there is trust in the way she leans into his direction, in the way she does not question that he will make it right. The first wash of water over her feet draws a visible change from her. Relief moves through her like a tide reversing itself, the tension in her calves and arches dissolving as the sea reclaims what the shore had tried to keep. She exhales softly, a sound almost reverent, watching as the foam curls around her ankles and retreats again, leaving her skin clean and gleaming.
She lifts her face toward the sun then, marvelling at how the light feels different here, unfiltered by canvas and rigging, unbroken by distance. It touches her directly, warming the hollow at her throat where the crystal rests, pooling in the curve of her collarbones. It slips in liquid glints along her ribs and gathers in the delicate hollows of her hips where droplets of seawater cling to her like scattered jewels, caught in the gentle swell of her breasts, tracing slow paths down the smooth plane of her stomach. Her skin, still pale from its long life beneath varnish and salt spray, seems almost luminous in the morning light; untouched and new and startlingly alive. There is something untouched about her, a kind of unclaimed brightness despite her scars, and yet it is threaded with the unmistakable pull of the sea: a siren’s promise woven into every line of her body.
Glancing up at Jack, her gaze dragging slowly over the water clinging to his collarbones, the freckles darkened by water, the salt drying against his jaw, and she grins, deeply pleased by the way the sea has marked him. A small huff of laughter escapes her then, oceanic eyes rolling with amused exasperation. "I can maybe understand why you leave me," she says slowly, tilting her head as another wave breaks around their ankles.
She lifts her face toward the sun then, marvelling at how the light feels different here, unfiltered by canvas and rigging, unbroken by distance. It touches her directly, warming the hollow at her throat where the crystal rests, pooling in the curve of her collarbones. It slips in liquid glints along her ribs and gathers in the delicate hollows of her hips where droplets of seawater cling to her like scattered jewels, caught in the gentle swell of her breasts, tracing slow paths down the smooth plane of her stomach. Her skin, still pale from its long life beneath varnish and salt spray, seems almost luminous in the morning light; untouched and new and startlingly alive. There is something untouched about her, a kind of unclaimed brightness despite her scars, and yet it is threaded with the unmistakable pull of the sea: a siren’s promise woven into every line of her body.
Glancing up at Jack, her gaze dragging slowly over the water clinging to his collarbones, the freckles darkened by water, the salt drying against his jaw, and she grins, deeply pleased by the way the sea has marked him. A small huff of laughter escapes her then, oceanic eyes rolling with amused exasperation. "I can maybe understand why you leave me," she says slowly, tilting her head as another wave breaks around their ankles.
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.
