bottom line, we made it out the first time still in love and half alive
Had the moment been any other, she might have laughed at that—firing on all cylinders—might have teased the truth of what he’d burned through and how violently he’d done it, but the thought never quite makes it to her mouth. It flickers and dies instead, smothered under the weight of what he does say, under the shape of the admission that follows.
She doesn’t pull away when his hand goes cold against her skin, doesn’t flinch or shiver, only leans into the slight flex of his fingers as though the change in him is something to be met rather than avoided, her body fitting closer without hesitation. As he says that it ain’t not about her, Jack will feel the way her mind surges and pulls back all at once, not with jealousy, but something far more violent, far less yielding. Fury rises clean and bright through her, not messy, not uncertain, but absolute in the way it takes hold, in the way it refuses to be softened or reasoned with. For everything he had done to pull himself away, for the distance he had carved out at cost to himself and everyone tied to him, for the way he had left rather than remain caught in her orbit, it still isn’t enough. Flora still occupies space in his mind, still shapes decisions, still reaches this far, and the thought of it sits in her like something corrosive.
She says nothing at first, walking beside him in silence as the anger shifts, not fading but stretching, pulling outward like a storm blown across open water, losing none of its force even as it settles farther away. Eventually she breathes in, slow and deliberate, lifting her head as she glances at him over her shoulder, her expression no longer volatile but sharpened, focused. "Okay," she says, simply. "So we stop her before she can."
"Everyone knows the undercity’s been chaos since you left, and with Hadama gone all of that falls right onto her," she continues, her voice smoothing into something almost conversational, though the edge beneath it never disappears. "And you said yourself at least half the captains in there would be relieved to see you back. That’s already a higher approval rating than she's probably got." Her gaze holds on his, steady, unflinching. "What bigger fuck you could we give her, than making you indispensable in her own region?" What reason could she come up with to bully or bother him, if she knew that Jack leaving the islands for the second time would be pinned on her, that all subsequent losses from the Captain's departure would be ones that not only could she not make up for, but couldn't escape from, either.
"Or," she adds, glancing at him over her shoulder again, her blue eyes gone the colour of midnight beneath her salty lashes. "I'm sure her pre-engagement wedding isn't the only secret she's got." Surely blackmail wasn't off the table.
She doesn’t pull away when his hand goes cold against her skin, doesn’t flinch or shiver, only leans into the slight flex of his fingers as though the change in him is something to be met rather than avoided, her body fitting closer without hesitation. As he says that it ain’t not about her, Jack will feel the way her mind surges and pulls back all at once, not with jealousy, but something far more violent, far less yielding. Fury rises clean and bright through her, not messy, not uncertain, but absolute in the way it takes hold, in the way it refuses to be softened or reasoned with. For everything he had done to pull himself away, for the distance he had carved out at cost to himself and everyone tied to him, for the way he had left rather than remain caught in her orbit, it still isn’t enough. Flora still occupies space in his mind, still shapes decisions, still reaches this far, and the thought of it sits in her like something corrosive.
She says nothing at first, walking beside him in silence as the anger shifts, not fading but stretching, pulling outward like a storm blown across open water, losing none of its force even as it settles farther away. Eventually she breathes in, slow and deliberate, lifting her head as she glances at him over her shoulder, her expression no longer volatile but sharpened, focused. "Okay," she says, simply. "So we stop her before she can."
"Everyone knows the undercity’s been chaos since you left, and with Hadama gone all of that falls right onto her," she continues, her voice smoothing into something almost conversational, though the edge beneath it never disappears. "And you said yourself at least half the captains in there would be relieved to see you back. That’s already a higher approval rating than she's probably got." Her gaze holds on his, steady, unflinching. "What bigger fuck you could we give her, than making you indispensable in her own region?" What reason could she come up with to bully or bother him, if she knew that Jack leaving the islands for the second time would be pinned on her, that all subsequent losses from the Captain's departure would be ones that not only could she not make up for, but couldn't escape from, either.
"Or," she adds, glancing at him over her shoulder again, her blue eyes gone the colour of midnight beneath her salty lashes. "I'm sure her pre-engagement wedding isn't the only secret she's got." Surely blackmail wasn't off the table.
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.
