bottom line, we made it out the first time still in love and half alive
The Ark has weathered colder things than this, has known the waters of the Eurybia that have cracked lesser vessels clean through, and so the lingering chill of his fingers against her hip barely registers in her body, though her mind still steadies for it, the restless churn smoothing as the warmth returns to his touch. She leans into, her head tipping slightly as her voice slips out low, touched with something wry. "That’s why you’ll always be one." As long as she exists, he will never be without a ship, all the more so now that she can take her place at his side on land as well as at sea.
When he slows, she turns with him, her chin lifting beneath his hand without resistance, her gaze already on his before his lips meet hers. His patience is there in the kiss, measured and deliberate, but hers is not; her response immediate and wanting, her fingers tightening at his waist as though to pull him closer, to close whatever space he might still be leaving between them. For all the decades she’s known him, for all she’s learned watching him grow into something sharper, steadier, watching the fuse of his temper length, she has not learned that same restraint. Especially in this body, the want in her to demand all that she thinks Jack is owed still comes quick, still presses forward with the certainty that it should be met.
She parts from him on a breath, her lips curving as his words settle. "Who knows," she echoes, the agreement soft but edged, her smile deepening into something more dangerous and wicked. The Ark leans in again before the thought can stretch any further, her mouth finding his with even less patience this time, tasting the lingering sweetness of rum on his lips.
When he slows, she turns with him, her chin lifting beneath his hand without resistance, her gaze already on his before his lips meet hers. His patience is there in the kiss, measured and deliberate, but hers is not; her response immediate and wanting, her fingers tightening at his waist as though to pull him closer, to close whatever space he might still be leaving between them. For all the decades she’s known him, for all she’s learned watching him grow into something sharper, steadier, watching the fuse of his temper length, she has not learned that same restraint. Especially in this body, the want in her to demand all that she thinks Jack is owed still comes quick, still presses forward with the certainty that it should be met.
She parts from him on a breath, her lips curving as his words settle. "Who knows," she echoes, the agreement soft but edged, her smile deepening into something more dangerous and wicked. The Ark leans in again before the thought can stretch any further, her mouth finding his with even less patience this time, tasting the lingering sweetness of rum on his lips.
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.
