bottom line, we made it out the first time still in love and half alive
The Ark’s grin turns wolfish at Jack’s comment, though the lift of her brow is performatively innocent. "And what wrong ears would those be?" she asks lightly, the question sliding from her lips as though she hasn’t the faintest idea who he might mean, though the glint in her eyes says otherwise. If Flora and her family take issue with their return, they’re welcome to choke on the news for all she cares.
She walks easily along the pier with Jack, but when he asks where she’d like to start, she glances back at him over one shoulder, her oceanic gaze narrowing slightly as she considers it, because now that they’re actually here the possibilities rise up around her all at once. Gambling dens humming with the flash of coin, stalls along the boardwalk sending the sharp clean scent of fresh fish and rice into the air, coastal bars already spilling noise and lanternlight into the streets, even the blackened bones of the Hanged Man somewhere deeper in the city, there’s so much she’s heard about through the crew that choosing where to begin suddenly feels almost impossible.
Her attention drifts outward as they walk, the harbour pressing in with voices and music and the restless clatter of evening trade, and though the thought of watching Jack clean out a gambling table—or finding some glittering ring from a dockside jeweller to add to her collection—flickers pleasantly through her mind, it’s the sharp call of an oyster shucker somewhere down the pier that finally hooks her interest.
She grins, turning slightly as she nods toward the man with his battered pail of fresh oysters, lemon wedges, hot sauce, and salt. "I could eat." While normally she might slink her way over and charm the shucker of his entire pail, just for now, the Ark nods at the Captain, much more inclined to see Torchline bend around him like a long lost son returned, than to pull the focus to herself.
She walks easily along the pier with Jack, but when he asks where she’d like to start, she glances back at him over one shoulder, her oceanic gaze narrowing slightly as she considers it, because now that they’re actually here the possibilities rise up around her all at once. Gambling dens humming with the flash of coin, stalls along the boardwalk sending the sharp clean scent of fresh fish and rice into the air, coastal bars already spilling noise and lanternlight into the streets, even the blackened bones of the Hanged Man somewhere deeper in the city, there’s so much she’s heard about through the crew that choosing where to begin suddenly feels almost impossible.
Her attention drifts outward as they walk, the harbour pressing in with voices and music and the restless clatter of evening trade, and though the thought of watching Jack clean out a gambling table—or finding some glittering ring from a dockside jeweller to add to her collection—flickers pleasantly through her mind, it’s the sharp call of an oyster shucker somewhere down the pier that finally hooks her interest.
She grins, turning slightly as she nods toward the man with his battered pail of fresh oysters, lemon wedges, hot sauce, and salt. "I could eat." While normally she might slink her way over and charm the shucker of his entire pail, just for now, the Ark nods at the Captain, much more inclined to see Torchline bend around him like a long lost son returned, than to pull the focus to herself.
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.
