I've been trying out the high road, and I hate it
The Ark drinks Calypso in without apology, blue eyes bright and measuring, red lips pulling back in a dazzling, slow smile that shows every inch of her satisfaction. The girl glows—sun-warmed and clever—and the Ark enjoys the way she leans in despite Jack squarely between them, as though proximity were a tide that could simply be waded through. "You did fine," she says with a low chuckle, shaking her head, dismissing the apology with easy generosity. "My boards have known far worse hands than yours." Her grin turns sly then, something sharper glinting behind it. "Though I’ll admit," she adds, voice dropping into velvet mischief, "I found you much more interesting when you weren’t cleaning."
Below them, the chute gate slams open and a rider explodes into motion atop a bucking mass of muscle and fury. The crowd roars, dust rises. The Ark feels the vibration of it in her bones, in the hollow places where water should be. At Caly's question, her grin turns wolfish as she nods toward the lower rows where, at the edge of the stands, Kaisel is looping at arm around Flora 's waist. The sight flickers across the Ark’s vision like a flare at sea; bright, unnecessary, irritating.
As she sighs, a thin current of wind snakes down the bleachers, subtle and pleasant at first, cooling sunburnt shoulders and lifting stray curls. It passes the row behind Flora and Kaisel, and brushes against a precariously balanced cup of red slushie just enough to send it tumbling. It arcs in a lazy, inevitable curve before splashing bright crimson across Flora’s white crop top, sticky sweetness cascading down to pool over Kaisel’s bare feet.
Innocent as anything, the Ark turns her gaze back to Caly, blinking once, serene. "It has its benefits," she says lightly, as if commenting on the weather.
The Ark is sitting with Jack and Calypso and just used air magic to spill a slushie on Flora / Kaisel!
Below them, the chute gate slams open and a rider explodes into motion atop a bucking mass of muscle and fury. The crowd roars, dust rises. The Ark feels the vibration of it in her bones, in the hollow places where water should be. At Caly's question, her grin turns wolfish as she nods toward the lower rows where, at the edge of the stands, Kaisel is looping at arm around Flora 's waist. The sight flickers across the Ark’s vision like a flare at sea; bright, unnecessary, irritating.
As she sighs, a thin current of wind snakes down the bleachers, subtle and pleasant at first, cooling sunburnt shoulders and lifting stray curls. It passes the row behind Flora and Kaisel, and brushes against a precariously balanced cup of red slushie just enough to send it tumbling. It arcs in a lazy, inevitable curve before splashing bright crimson across Flora’s white crop top, sticky sweetness cascading down to pool over Kaisel’s bare feet.
Innocent as anything, the Ark turns her gaze back to Caly, blinking once, serene. "It has its benefits," she says lightly, as if commenting on the weather.
The Ark is sitting with Jack and Calypso and just used air magic to spill a slushie on Flora / Kaisel!
I've got a lot of sins, but you're my favourite
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.
