bottom line, we made it out the first time still in love and half alive
The sharp scent of ozone in the boutique makes the fine hairs along the Ark's arms lift, and she shivers as it travels down her spine, the ultraviolet pleasure of it rippling through her. When Jack's arm hooks around her waist and draws her flush to his side, she folds into him immediately, one arm sliding around his middle as though it belongs there. Her chin lifts, posture tall, her expression openly smug and triumphant despite the tension she can feel in Jack through his thin shirt.
As they turn to leave, she glances back over her shoulder and gives the tailor a slow, deliberate wink. Heat floods through him again, bright and helpless, and she knows it will sit with him long after they’re gone. Though he'd sobered wisely under Jack’s glare, fear does nothing to erase what she’s left behind in his mind, where it lingers, to be groped at and replayed, hoarded despite the chill rolling off the Captain.
Outside, she angles Jack toward the stand he’d mentioned earlier, the one with the frozen treats, leaning lightly into his side as they walk across the uneven boards. She looks up at him from beneath her lashes, a sly curve to her mouth. "What?" she murmurs, smirking. "You’d rather have paid his ridiculous prices?"
As they turn to leave, she glances back over her shoulder and gives the tailor a slow, deliberate wink. Heat floods through him again, bright and helpless, and she knows it will sit with him long after they’re gone. Though he'd sobered wisely under Jack’s glare, fear does nothing to erase what she’s left behind in his mind, where it lingers, to be groped at and replayed, hoarded despite the chill rolling off the Captain.
Outside, she angles Jack toward the stand he’d mentioned earlier, the one with the frozen treats, leaning lightly into his side as they walk across the uneven boards. She looks up at him from beneath her lashes, a sly curve to her mouth. "What?" she murmurs, smirking. "You’d rather have paid his ridiculous prices?"
we didn't die, but no guarantees this time, but fuck it lets do it again
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.
