bottom line, we made it out the first time still in love and half alive
"Mm," the Ark hums in agreement as Jack’s arm slides around her waist, her body fitting there with the same easy familiarity as wind in rigging. His mention of the Blackfox earns another low hum, though the Ark’s attention drifts past his shoulder toward the docks, where the movement of Kaiholo has begun to warp around their arrival. It isn’t quite a crowd waiting for them, not openly, but the flow of people along the piers thickens in places, heads turning and bodies slowing with the unmistakable curiosity of those who’ve spotted something they hadn’t expected to see again. She tips her chin subtly in that direction, amusement warming the smug curve of her smile. "She isn’t the only one."
The words leave her lightly, carried on the harbour breeze, before Jack’s suggestion of a stroll ripples through her mind like wind skimming across calm water, playful and stirring all at once. The Ark pulls easily from his side then, already turning toward the gangplank as Bassian finishes securing it, and the smile she flashes the big man is bright enough to earn the delighted shake of his head she knows he’ll give.
Her boots carry her down the plank with an easy sway of hips and leather, but just before the dock rises to meet her, she slows, pausing for a single breath with one foot still suspended above the wood. For a heartbeat she lets herself feel it completely—the harbour air thick with salt and spice, the murmur of voices along the piers, and the quiet weight of the Ark resting proud behind her with her rust-red sails hanging high against the darkening sky—before strolling confidently forward, chin lifted and maroon hair billowing.
The words leave her lightly, carried on the harbour breeze, before Jack’s suggestion of a stroll ripples through her mind like wind skimming across calm water, playful and stirring all at once. The Ark pulls easily from his side then, already turning toward the gangplank as Bassian finishes securing it, and the smile she flashes the big man is bright enough to earn the delighted shake of his head she knows he’ll give.
Her boots carry her down the plank with an easy sway of hips and leather, but just before the dock rises to meet her, she slows, pausing for a single breath with one foot still suspended above the wood. For a heartbeat she lets herself feel it completely—the harbour air thick with salt and spice, the murmur of voices along the piers, and the quiet weight of the Ark resting proud behind her with her rust-red sails hanging high against the darkening sky—before strolling confidently forward, chin lifted and maroon hair billowing.
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.
