bottom line, we made it out the first time still in love and half alive
The Ark’s gaze flicks once across the table at the braying laughter, the sound grating and hollow in a way that barely deserves the breath it’s made from, before her attention settles fully on the man still clutching her wrist. Up close, with his breath sour against her skin and his grip tightening as though that alone might secure her, she has to consciously still the instinct to pull away, to recoil from the closeness of something so small and grasping and pathetic.
Instead, she leans into it.
Her eyes lift to meet his, blue and deep and impossibly steady, holding him there with a calm that feels far more dangerous than any flinch might have been. "If you're so sure you're right," she says, her voice low and even, "go all in. By all means." The words settle between them like a promise. "Let’s see what you’ve got."
Her free hand rises as she speaks, fingers sliding smoothly against the band on her other hand until the ring comes loose, held lightly between her fingertips as though it weighs nothing at all. The air shifts almost immediately, subtle at first—the faint prickle along skin, the quiet tightening of something unseen—as the scent of ozone deepens around them. Though she and Jack haven’t practiced her elemental abilities much, the smell of lightning and the stink of the man’s breath on her face combined with the thick warmth of his fingers on her wrist, have a storm churning up from within her.
A cold wind sweeps across the table in a sudden, contained gust, tugging at clothes and scattering loose hair as it lifts the edges of the game into motion, cards skittering and flipping like startled birds caught in a storm. The Ark stands at the centre of it, unmoved, her red hair streaming back in waves as if pulled by an unseen tide, her posture loose and unhurried even as the air around her crackles. Where the man’s hand grips her wrist, water begins to gather—not dripping—but spilling impossibly against his skin as though he's trying to hold onto the sea itself. It spills between his fingers in a cold rush, slick and unrelenting, while faint arcs of electricity snap and flicker through the air around her, drawn toward the ring she holds aloft.
Instead, she leans into it.
Her eyes lift to meet his, blue and deep and impossibly steady, holding him there with a calm that feels far more dangerous than any flinch might have been. "If you're so sure you're right," she says, her voice low and even, "go all in. By all means." The words settle between them like a promise. "Let’s see what you’ve got."
Her free hand rises as she speaks, fingers sliding smoothly against the band on her other hand until the ring comes loose, held lightly between her fingertips as though it weighs nothing at all. The air shifts almost immediately, subtle at first—the faint prickle along skin, the quiet tightening of something unseen—as the scent of ozone deepens around them. Though she and Jack haven’t practiced her elemental abilities much, the smell of lightning and the stink of the man’s breath on her face combined with the thick warmth of his fingers on her wrist, have a storm churning up from within her.
A cold wind sweeps across the table in a sudden, contained gust, tugging at clothes and scattering loose hair as it lifts the edges of the game into motion, cards skittering and flipping like startled birds caught in a storm. The Ark stands at the centre of it, unmoved, her red hair streaming back in waves as if pulled by an unseen tide, her posture loose and unhurried even as the air around her crackles. Where the man’s hand grips her wrist, water begins to gather—not dripping—but spilling impossibly against his skin as though he's trying to hold onto the sea itself. It spills between his fingers in a cold rush, slick and unrelenting, while faint arcs of electricity snap and flicker through the air around her, drawn toward the ring she holds aloft.
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.
