bottom line, we made it out the first time still in love and half alive
The Ark exhales softly, a breath that carries just enough of the taste of Jack's lips to leave a faint warmth lingering beneath her skin, a trace of colour still high in her cheeks as she glances back over her shoulder at him. The grin she flashes is crooked and bright, edged with something hungry that hasn’t quite settled yet. "Sure," she says easily, her lips twitching before the thought sharpens into something more calculating. "You can be the bait." Her eyes flick over him, quick and assessing, already picturing it; the way the man would strut after Jack, proud and smug for having secured an audience with the Captain only to find the Ark waiting for him. "I’ll be the one waiting at the end."
The Ark runs her fingers back through the roots of her hair, lifting it away from her neck before letting it fall again with a relieved little huff of laughter, the tension of the meeting bleeding out of her in small, unguarded motions. "Yeah?" she murmurs, glancing sidelong at Jack as they walk, her tone curious despite the confidence she carries. There had been little to read in that room, nothing offered freely, and even Jack had kept his hand close to his chest in a way that left her navigating the exchange more by instinct than certainty.
His explanation draws a wolfish grin from her, quick and sharp. "I can imagine the sort of tongue lashing she’d have had for you had you gone alone," she says, the suggestion laced through her voice bright and easy, playful rather than pointed or jealous.
Stretching her arms up above her head as they walk, the motion unrestrained, easy in a way that feels newly earned, her body arches slightly as the stars begin to scatter across the sky overhead. "Shall we get a drink to celebrate? I'm not tired yet."
The Ark runs her fingers back through the roots of her hair, lifting it away from her neck before letting it fall again with a relieved little huff of laughter, the tension of the meeting bleeding out of her in small, unguarded motions. "Yeah?" she murmurs, glancing sidelong at Jack as they walk, her tone curious despite the confidence she carries. There had been little to read in that room, nothing offered freely, and even Jack had kept his hand close to his chest in a way that left her navigating the exchange more by instinct than certainty.
His explanation draws a wolfish grin from her, quick and sharp. "I can imagine the sort of tongue lashing she’d have had for you had you gone alone," she says, the suggestion laced through her voice bright and easy, playful rather than pointed or jealous.
Stretching her arms up above her head as they walk, the motion unrestrained, easy in a way that feels newly earned, her body arches slightly as the stars begin to scatter across the sky overhead. "Shall we get a drink to celebrate? I'm not tired yet."
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.
