bottom line, we made it out the first time still in love and half alive
A dark, pleased curl of delight moves through her at Jack's answer, the sound she makes low and satisfied, more breath than voice. "Good," she purrs, not bothering to hide the thought of what that might stir in the minds of those ship's captains, before dismissing it just as quickly in favour of the man in front of her.
She follows when he pulls her, her body falling into step as easily as water through a ravine, anticipation threading through her bright and sharp until it colours everything. It shows in her eyes, the blue darkening, deepening into something far more dangerous as her focus narrows entirely to him and the direction he’s taking her. The alley draws a quick, eager grin from her, but it shifts almost immediately when the door reveals itself, her expression sharpening into something more predatory, something intent, and when he blasts the lock away the crack of it sends a thrill straight through her, clean and electric.
Inside, the space tells its own story, and she feels it as much as she sees it; the shape of it, the purpose, the history of it settling into her with a clarity that doesn’t need explanation. This was him, or had been, a piece of the man he was before she could follow him onto land, before she could stand beside him like this and not just beneath his feet, and the realisation sparks something carnal in her, something that feels like stepping back through time and inserting herself in a moment she'd always belonged in.
The Ark drops her clothes immediately, discarded where she stands as she closes the distance between them in a single, unbroken movement, her hands threading into his hair with a grip that is feline and claiming. She rises into him as she does, arcing close, her body fitting against his with no space left between before her mouth finds his again without waiting, her lips immediate and demanding.
She follows when he pulls her, her body falling into step as easily as water through a ravine, anticipation threading through her bright and sharp until it colours everything. It shows in her eyes, the blue darkening, deepening into something far more dangerous as her focus narrows entirely to him and the direction he’s taking her. The alley draws a quick, eager grin from her, but it shifts almost immediately when the door reveals itself, her expression sharpening into something more predatory, something intent, and when he blasts the lock away the crack of it sends a thrill straight through her, clean and electric.
Inside, the space tells its own story, and she feels it as much as she sees it; the shape of it, the purpose, the history of it settling into her with a clarity that doesn’t need explanation. This was him, or had been, a piece of the man he was before she could follow him onto land, before she could stand beside him like this and not just beneath his feet, and the realisation sparks something carnal in her, something that feels like stepping back through time and inserting herself in a moment she'd always belonged in.
The Ark drops her clothes immediately, discarded where she stands as she closes the distance between them in a single, unbroken movement, her hands threading into his hair with a grip that is feline and claiming. She rises into him as she does, arcing close, her body fitting against his with no space left between before her mouth finds his again without waiting, her lips immediate and demanding.
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.
