// Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars //
It'd be a lie to pretend that the last shots Jack fires off don't clip them. He knows that's the point, but expecting something to sting doesn't keep it from doing so. Still, he keeps his smile propped up as he faces Flora, turned to her in clear dismissal of the gunner across the way. His question isn't just for show, although he had dressed it up on purpose, and it doesn't waver even now. It remains held out like a hand she need only take, a chance for him to whisk her away from this and return back below deck to dancing in her kitchen, a little bit of blood of no consequence if they've already got the room spinning.
She means to bandage them up here though, and he doesn't fault her for wanting to keep her floors clean. "I know," he says, the edge of his smile softening from the rigidity of being pressed into place to something more genuine. His words surely won't make sense, not outright, because he did not know what her letter said until now. What he means is that he trusts in what she wrote, that he believes the things she has told him time and again, that he is not so easily removed from the glittering promise on their wrists. "I'm not worried," he offers as a clarifier, gaze sliding off her back to the retreating hulk of the Ark. "He's doing what he's always done. Finding ways to turn your feelings against you, for his sake." There might not be anything crueler than hollowing something once heartfelt and filling it with spite.
It is true, that Flora would always love Jack. Some part of her would forever be held to some part of him. The difference is, now it's only past versions of them that exist that way. Jack and Flora will always remember each other, but Kaisel and Flora will continually build new memories. They are growing, and Flora has bloomed beyond the reach of Jack, who remains rooted in brine, mistaking the swell of salt in driftwood for something thriving.
He appreciates her telling him, though. That she'll always tell him, even when it hurts. His arms find her as she presses the line of her body to his, holding her through every sag and sigh that tries to knock them unsteady. An agreeing grunt is all the answer he can rouse to hating that, because yeah, ditto. Reluctantly, his grip gives her room to part enough for the kiss, and he leans into the steady pressure of her lips. His hands lift her up marginally, sweeping her into the certainty that seals between their touch, daring the rest of the world to even try and find a place between them.
"You never fail to impress me," he breathes as he tips his forehead to hers, wind teasing through their hair as they list on the currents of the sky. "C'mon, let's find a nicer course to set ourselves on next," he suggests, and the world is wide open with possibility, now more than ever.
She means to bandage them up here though, and he doesn't fault her for wanting to keep her floors clean. "I know," he says, the edge of his smile softening from the rigidity of being pressed into place to something more genuine. His words surely won't make sense, not outright, because he did not know what her letter said until now. What he means is that he trusts in what she wrote, that he believes the things she has told him time and again, that he is not so easily removed from the glittering promise on their wrists. "I'm not worried," he offers as a clarifier, gaze sliding off her back to the retreating hulk of the Ark. "He's doing what he's always done. Finding ways to turn your feelings against you, for his sake." There might not be anything crueler than hollowing something once heartfelt and filling it with spite.
It is true, that Flora would always love Jack. Some part of her would forever be held to some part of him. The difference is, now it's only past versions of them that exist that way. Jack and Flora will always remember each other, but Kaisel and Flora will continually build new memories. They are growing, and Flora has bloomed beyond the reach of Jack, who remains rooted in brine, mistaking the swell of salt in driftwood for something thriving.
He appreciates her telling him, though. That she'll always tell him, even when it hurts. His arms find her as she presses the line of her body to his, holding her through every sag and sigh that tries to knock them unsteady. An agreeing grunt is all the answer he can rouse to hating that, because yeah, ditto. Reluctantly, his grip gives her room to part enough for the kiss, and he leans into the steady pressure of her lips. His hands lift her up marginally, sweeping her into the certainty that seals between their touch, daring the rest of the world to even try and find a place between them.
"You never fail to impress me," he breathes as he tips his forehead to hers, wind teasing through their hair as they list on the currents of the sky. "C'mon, let's find a nicer course to set ourselves on next," he suggests, and the world is wide open with possibility, now more than ever.
Kaisel
// I could really use a wish right now //
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
