bottom line, we made it out the first time still in love and half alive
The Ark leaves Jack behind without looking back, though the awareness of him lingers like a steady current at her spine as she slips into the flow of Torchline’s evening crowds. The boardwalk hums beneath her boots, voices rising and falling in uneven waves while lanternlight begins to take hold against the deepening dusk, and she moves through it all with an ease that draws attention without ever seeming to ask for it.
A small knot of men gathered around a low table near one of the taverns breaks just enough to make space for her as she eyes them with interest, the game already in motion and the stakes laid out in loose coin and cards worn soft at the edges. It's a card game she's played with the crew often enough, and as with the crew, she assumes these men will have equally loose lips that she might learn something from. One of them flashes her a grin that’s all invitation and calculation, and The Ark pauses just long enough to let it seem like his idea before joining them without hesitation.
The first few rounds go easily, almost laughably so, and the Ark plays with a slow, knowing smile curling at her lips as she lets the rhythm of it settle into her hands. The cards feel light between her fingers, the table warm beneath her palms, and the attention she draws is as constant as the tide; glances lingering too long, voices dipping when she leans in, the faint shift of posture from the man across from her as he decides he’s already won something more than coin, and she lets him believe it. Wins come easily at first, enough to keep her there, enough to keep him smiling as the pile in front of her grows and shrinks and grows again in a way that feels almost generous, until the current turns. It’s subtle, but not subtle enough to miss; the timing of a deal, the flick of a card, the way the table tightens just slightly around her as the game tilts out from under her feet and she loses it all. Had Jack been there he'd have seen the way an ace slid from the man's sleeve, but the Ark hadn't, too focused on shooting a warning look at one of the other players who was all but salivating at the shape of her tits.
The man across from her leans back, grin widening with a satisfaction that has very little to do with the coins now resting on his side of the table, his gaze dragging slowly over her in a way that suggests he’s been waiting for this moment more than any hand of cards. "I’ll take a drink with you, since y'seem to be out of coin," he says, easy and pleased, already reaching across the table to catch her hand as if the outcome had always been inevitable.
As his fingers close around her wrist, his eyes drop to the ring on her hand, the one she'd selected from those Jack wore. It happens all at once—the shift in his expression, the way his grip tightens rather than loosens, the easy charm draining out of his face like something pulled too quickly from the tide—and the others around the table unconciously lean back slightly. "Just where the fuck’d you get that?"
A small knot of men gathered around a low table near one of the taverns breaks just enough to make space for her as she eyes them with interest, the game already in motion and the stakes laid out in loose coin and cards worn soft at the edges. It's a card game she's played with the crew often enough, and as with the crew, she assumes these men will have equally loose lips that she might learn something from. One of them flashes her a grin that’s all invitation and calculation, and The Ark pauses just long enough to let it seem like his idea before joining them without hesitation.
The first few rounds go easily, almost laughably so, and the Ark plays with a slow, knowing smile curling at her lips as she lets the rhythm of it settle into her hands. The cards feel light between her fingers, the table warm beneath her palms, and the attention she draws is as constant as the tide; glances lingering too long, voices dipping when she leans in, the faint shift of posture from the man across from her as he decides he’s already won something more than coin, and she lets him believe it. Wins come easily at first, enough to keep her there, enough to keep him smiling as the pile in front of her grows and shrinks and grows again in a way that feels almost generous, until the current turns. It’s subtle, but not subtle enough to miss; the timing of a deal, the flick of a card, the way the table tightens just slightly around her as the game tilts out from under her feet and she loses it all. Had Jack been there he'd have seen the way an ace slid from the man's sleeve, but the Ark hadn't, too focused on shooting a warning look at one of the other players who was all but salivating at the shape of her tits.
The man across from her leans back, grin widening with a satisfaction that has very little to do with the coins now resting on his side of the table, his gaze dragging slowly over her in a way that suggests he’s been waiting for this moment more than any hand of cards. "I’ll take a drink with you, since y'seem to be out of coin," he says, easy and pleased, already reaching across the table to catch her hand as if the outcome had always been inevitable.
As his fingers close around her wrist, his eyes drop to the ring on her hand, the one she'd selected from those Jack wore. It happens all at once—the shift in his expression, the way his grip tightens rather than loosens, the easy charm draining out of his face like something pulled too quickly from the tide—and the others around the table unconciously lean back slightly. "Just where the fuck’d you get that?"
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.
