JACK
hellraiser
risk taker
risk taker
"Keep up that talk an' you'll not need a crew or a captain at all," Jack drawls, half playful as they move from textured cobblestones to the soft rise and fall of dry sand. He follows in her wake, catching the blouse before it can quite flutter to the ground, collecting boots and leather and any other accoutrements and setting them down where the sand turns flat and smooth. She's already halfway to the lapping shoreline by that time, leaving Jack as a lone, eerie silhouette against the glow of moon and wavelight.
The sea takes her as if it was always meant to have her, the only evidence of her having been beside him a few perfect prints in the sand that melt into the lap of waves and the quiet flare of bioluminescence where she passes by. It doesn't take long for The Ark to leave the range of his telepathy, swallowed up into The Arclight, and Jack is left to watch for her by the play of the glowing flora beneath the surface.
He spends his time while she reacquaints herself mostly idle, breathing deep into the salt-sweet night, his hands casually in his pockets and his shoulders releasing what lingering tension had been left in them. It isn't just The Ark who feels like this is where she's meant to be, though it's true that Jack could make his way in any ocean or on any shoreline. Torchline, though, is where it began for him, a story he'd still been in the middle of writing when he'd cut his losses and left, and it feels like the region has been waiting for them to come back all this time.
The sea takes her as if it was always meant to have her, the only evidence of her having been beside him a few perfect prints in the sand that melt into the lap of waves and the quiet flare of bioluminescence where she passes by. It doesn't take long for The Ark to leave the range of his telepathy, swallowed up into The Arclight, and Jack is left to watch for her by the play of the glowing flora beneath the surface.
He spends his time while she reacquaints herself mostly idle, breathing deep into the salt-sweet night, his hands casually in his pockets and his shoulders releasing what lingering tension had been left in them. It isn't just The Ark who feels like this is where she's meant to be, though it's true that Jack could make his way in any ocean or on any shoreline. Torchline, though, is where it began for him, a story he'd still been in the middle of writing when he'd cut his losses and left, and it feels like the region has been waiting for them to come back all this time.
full speed ahead
'til i'm dead in the fast lane
'til i'm dead in the fast lane
- Secret Telepath
- Functionally Immortal (Forever 35)
- Two small star tattoos beneath his left eye
- Click for The Ark!
