i see nothing better, i'll keep him forever, like a vendetta
The Ark doesn’t stop when he flinches, but she doesn’t chase it either. Her fingers remain steady at his neck, easing what’s within reach, smoothing the knots that rise beneath her touch without digging for every last coil of tension buried deeper. This isn’t about stripping him clean of strain; it’s about loosening the edges, taking the sharpness down to something workable. When his head dips under her hand she lets it, thumbs pressing slow and firm, her touch measured rather than relentless.
The mention of the Blackfox stills her, though her hands pause for only a fraction of a breath. The surface of her thoughts remains calm, dark and reflective, yet something beneath it begins to turn; not fear, never that, but a bright, curious current pulling through deeper waters. She knows the Blackfox through the stories that ride the ship’s corridors and through Jack’s own history with her, and she remembers clearly the one time he’d brought the woman aboard to examine a reclaimed pocket of goods he’d found while sailing. Stolen, stripped of ownership and presented as an opportunity. The Blackfox had walked her decks with silk-shadowed grace and eyes that missed nothing. The woman had been clever, unapologetic, and now that the Ark was in a position to do so, she very much approved. Now, as Jack speaks of paying respects, a slow grin spreads across her mouth.
She leans back slightly against the edge of the desk, giving herself space to look at him fully, her ocean-dark eyes sharpening with something predatory and pleased. The placid surface in her mind gives way to a deeper, deliberate anticipation as her shoulders lift in a coy shrug that doesn’t fool either of them, innocence worn like a thin veil she has no intention of keeping intact. "One little trip," she says lightly, lips curving. "I’m sure no one’ll even notice we’re there." The lie rests easy between them, because the Ark returning to Torchline won’t be subtle. Her shadow alone is enough to stir the docks and set rumours grinding through taverns before her anchor ever bites. But that’s part of the pleasure, isn’t it?
The mention of the Blackfox stills her, though her hands pause for only a fraction of a breath. The surface of her thoughts remains calm, dark and reflective, yet something beneath it begins to turn; not fear, never that, but a bright, curious current pulling through deeper waters. She knows the Blackfox through the stories that ride the ship’s corridors and through Jack’s own history with her, and she remembers clearly the one time he’d brought the woman aboard to examine a reclaimed pocket of goods he’d found while sailing. Stolen, stripped of ownership and presented as an opportunity. The Blackfox had walked her decks with silk-shadowed grace and eyes that missed nothing. The woman had been clever, unapologetic, and now that the Ark was in a position to do so, she very much approved. Now, as Jack speaks of paying respects, a slow grin spreads across her mouth.
She leans back slightly against the edge of the desk, giving herself space to look at him fully, her ocean-dark eyes sharpening with something predatory and pleased. The placid surface in her mind gives way to a deeper, deliberate anticipation as her shoulders lift in a coy shrug that doesn’t fool either of them, innocence worn like a thin veil she has no intention of keeping intact. "One little trip," she says lightly, lips curving. "I’m sure no one’ll even notice we’re there." The lie rests easy between them, because the Ark returning to Torchline won’t be subtle. Her shadow alone is enough to stir the docks and set rumours grinding through taverns before her anchor ever bites. But that’s part of the pleasure, isn’t it?
i see how this is gonna go, touch me and you'll never be alone
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.
