bottom line, we made it out the first time still in love and half alive
Jack’s answer doesn’t smother the spark in her. If anything, it sharpens it. What had been a flicker of idle curiosity settles into something more deliberate, more controlled, the edge of it honed rather than dulled as she lets his words sink in. If she’s to move among them, it won’t be as something that dazzles and passes; it’ll be as something they can’t quite place, something with more tucked beneath the surface than they can comfortably read. Like the Blackfox.
His glass taps against hers, and the Ark’s smirk deepens slightly at the contact as she lifts the drink to her lips, letting it rest there for a moment before tipping it back. The gin hits cold first, sharp and clean across her tongue, the botanical edge unfolding exactly as expected, but the next breath draws in something stranger, the sensation of water moving the wrong way, like a current reversing itself mid-tide, and it pulls a quiet, surprised inhale from her as the second flavour blooms, deeper, more layered than the first that nearly has her knocking back the rest of what's in the tumbler.
She lowers the glass slowly, the faint curl of her mouth returning as she glances back to Jack, the earlier restlessness now tempered into something more intentional. "Yes," she agrees easily, though the word carries a trace of amusement as she leans back into her chair, posture loosening without losing any of its presence. Her chin lifts slightly, her gaze settling on him in full, blue darkening into something deeper, more assessing. "I did."
For a moment she's silent, her attention fixed on him as though the rest of the room has briefly fallen away. "I just wondered if seeing you again after all this time might be enough to make even clever men forget what’s good for them," she says softly, her eyes lingering on him, before her smile deepens, something darker threading through it. "Reckless enough to reach anyway."
His glass taps against hers, and the Ark’s smirk deepens slightly at the contact as she lifts the drink to her lips, letting it rest there for a moment before tipping it back. The gin hits cold first, sharp and clean across her tongue, the botanical edge unfolding exactly as expected, but the next breath draws in something stranger, the sensation of water moving the wrong way, like a current reversing itself mid-tide, and it pulls a quiet, surprised inhale from her as the second flavour blooms, deeper, more layered than the first that nearly has her knocking back the rest of what's in the tumbler.
She lowers the glass slowly, the faint curl of her mouth returning as she glances back to Jack, the earlier restlessness now tempered into something more intentional. "Yes," she agrees easily, though the word carries a trace of amusement as she leans back into her chair, posture loosening without losing any of its presence. Her chin lifts slightly, her gaze settling on him in full, blue darkening into something deeper, more assessing. "I did."
For a moment she's silent, her attention fixed on him as though the rest of the room has briefly fallen away. "I just wondered if seeing you again after all this time might be enough to make even clever men forget what’s good for them," she says softly, her eyes lingering on him, before her smile deepens, something darker threading through it. "Reckless enough to reach anyway."
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.
