aim high, swing hard, leave it out there, no regrets
Nova’s reaction earns her something sharper this time, the Ark’s smile curving with a wolfish satisfaction that doesn’t bother to hide itself, pleased in a way that feels almost indulgent as the girl meets her at the edge of understanding without quite stepping over it.
Rather than answering Nova's question, instead the Ark lifts her hand again, the air tightening subtly as another bolt gathers, cleaner this time, more deliberate in its aim as it splits and strikes both spheres once more, the contrast repeating itself with quiet clarity: Nova’s holding the shape of it, light threading through and lingering, while the Ark’s swallows it whole, the energy dispersing through the salt without hesitation, fracturing outward and vanishing almost at once. "The lightning stays in yours," she says, her voice low and even, nodding once toward Nova’s sphere, "because your water is pure."
Her gaze shifts, flicking toward her own, where the remnants of that strike have already dissolved, leaving only the faintest suggestion of movement beneath the frozen surface. "Saltwater on the other hand, conducts it." There’s no need to point out what’s already visible, the way the energy had spread instead of holding, the way it had moved through rather than remaining within. She gives a small, almost casual lift of her shoulder. "But it’s harder to freeze," she adds, unsure if Nova would have noticed how her sphere resited the shell of ice in a way the hybrid's hadn't. "And harder to heat.".
Rather than answering Nova's question, instead the Ark lifts her hand again, the air tightening subtly as another bolt gathers, cleaner this time, more deliberate in its aim as it splits and strikes both spheres once more, the contrast repeating itself with quiet clarity: Nova’s holding the shape of it, light threading through and lingering, while the Ark’s swallows it whole, the energy dispersing through the salt without hesitation, fracturing outward and vanishing almost at once. "The lightning stays in yours," she says, her voice low and even, nodding once toward Nova’s sphere, "because your water is pure."
Her gaze shifts, flicking toward her own, where the remnants of that strike have already dissolved, leaving only the faintest suggestion of movement beneath the frozen surface. "Saltwater on the other hand, conducts it." There’s no need to point out what’s already visible, the way the energy had spread instead of holding, the way it had moved through rather than remaining within. She gives a small, almost casual lift of her shoulder. "But it’s harder to freeze," she adds, unsure if Nova would have noticed how her sphere resited the shell of ice in a way the hybrid's hadn't. "And harder to heat.".
my blood is in the water and the sharks are takin' bets
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.
