bottom line, we made it out the first time still in love and half alive
The Ark listens as Jack speaks of the Blackfox, committing the shape of it to memory. Not the words themselves so much as the weight behind them, the understanding that reputation can be sharpened into something just as dangerous as any blade. It settles quietly into her, the thought of becoming that sort of presence—someone known for what she might do, for what she might be hiding—rather than simply what she is. It's one thing to have the sea and its Captain at her beck and call, it's another entirely to leave those around her guessing about what else she might have in her arsenal.
Her smirk is easy when she glances at him, following without question as he leads her deeper into Kaiholo, her confidence in him never once wavering despite the winding path and the increasingly unremarkable surroundings. By the time they stand before the plain, handle-less door, she doesn’t so much as hesitate, her attention lingering instead on the rhythm of his knock and the subtle shift of something unseen as they wait, but what she doesn't expect, is the greeting.
The sudden bark of laughter, the rough affection, the way Jack is pulled into it and meets it without resistance, it catches her off guard in a way she doesn’t outwardly show, though the effect ripples through her all the same. For so long now his smiles have been measured things, slow to form and quicker to fade, but here they come easier, carried on the recognition of a place that still knows him, still claims him, and the waters of her mind brighten at the sight of it, sparkling wide and warm.
She turns her attention to Gallagher as she passes, her smile curling low and smooth. "And what a good job he’s doing of it," she purrs, the approval easy as she slips inside.
The shift in light is immediate, dim and golden and thick with the murmur of voices layered just low enough to feel private, and her eyes adjust quickly, darkening as they pick out the shapes within. Figures move in shadowed clusters, some turning just enough to mark their arrival before looking away again, others watching more openly with the quiet calculation of those who know better than to stare too long. She takes it all in as she moves, choosing a table nearer the centre rather than the booths tucked along the edges, the better to sit close to Jack without needing to lean across space or lower her voice.
Later, she'll ask him what it feels like for him in a place like this, but knowing he'll not be able to answer her right now, instad she leans in close enough that her voice doesn't need to carry, her gaze drifting briefly across the room before returning to him, her smile sharpening into something wolfish. "Do you think the majority of them are worried you're back? Or relieved?"
Her smirk is easy when she glances at him, following without question as he leads her deeper into Kaiholo, her confidence in him never once wavering despite the winding path and the increasingly unremarkable surroundings. By the time they stand before the plain, handle-less door, she doesn’t so much as hesitate, her attention lingering instead on the rhythm of his knock and the subtle shift of something unseen as they wait, but what she doesn't expect, is the greeting.
The sudden bark of laughter, the rough affection, the way Jack is pulled into it and meets it without resistance, it catches her off guard in a way she doesn’t outwardly show, though the effect ripples through her all the same. For so long now his smiles have been measured things, slow to form and quicker to fade, but here they come easier, carried on the recognition of a place that still knows him, still claims him, and the waters of her mind brighten at the sight of it, sparkling wide and warm.
She turns her attention to Gallagher as she passes, her smile curling low and smooth. "And what a good job he’s doing of it," she purrs, the approval easy as she slips inside.
The shift in light is immediate, dim and golden and thick with the murmur of voices layered just low enough to feel private, and her eyes adjust quickly, darkening as they pick out the shapes within. Figures move in shadowed clusters, some turning just enough to mark their arrival before looking away again, others watching more openly with the quiet calculation of those who know better than to stare too long. She takes it all in as she moves, choosing a table nearer the centre rather than the booths tucked along the edges, the better to sit close to Jack without needing to lean across space or lower her voice.
Later, she'll ask him what it feels like for him in a place like this, but knowing he'll not be able to answer her right now, instad she leans in close enough that her voice doesn't need to carry, her gaze drifting briefly across the room before returning to him, her smile sharpening into something wolfish. "Do you think the majority of them are worried you're back? Or relieved?"
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.
