I've been trying out the high road, and I hate it
The Ark’s oceanic gaze hasn’t settled on any one thing for long, not while so much of herself is crowded with motion and sound, while boots strike her deck in uneven rhythm and song spills through the cold like rum through water, while Bassian’s unfortunate attempt at dancing sends little shivers of warning through the planks beneath everyone’s feet. Her attention drifts as naturally as tidewater on the pulse of bodies and liquor and smoke moving over her, until Jack begins to move towards her and everything in her draws to him with a welcome that has teeth tucked neatly behind it.
When his arm hooks around her waist, her chin tilts with a predator's lazy arrogance even as something unmistakably pleased warms through the blue of her eyes. Wrapped in her furs with her whiskey held close, she smiles at him with a jackal’s curve to her lips, sharp and knowing and made prettier for the danger of it. "Parts of me are," she murmurs, letting the words brush close enough for him to know precisely which parts she means, though the glance she lowers towards her glass is almost demure in its restraint. "The water’s still so cold, though."
She doesn’t let the complaint stretch any farther than that, not with someone else brought near enough to hear the shape of it, and so The Ark turns her attention upon Sunjata instead, blue eyes taking him in as if he’s weather worth naming. When his hand extends, she offers her own, and for the first instant of contact there’s something strange and impossible beneath the courtesy of skin against skin, a sensation like trying to grasp a wave before it breaks, all cool slip and living pressure before the woman of her settles properly into the gesture. The flash of lightning through his scars catches her interest at once, bright against him in a way that reminds her less of ornament than of a storm showing its bones through cloud, and her smile deepens around the compliment, indulgent as a tide accepting tribute.
"It’s nice to meet you in the flesh as well," she says, her voice warm with whiskey and salt-smooth amusement, her gaze still tracing the place where light had sparked through him before returning to his face as she pulls her hand away to warm herself with another sip of whiskey.
When his arm hooks around her waist, her chin tilts with a predator's lazy arrogance even as something unmistakably pleased warms through the blue of her eyes. Wrapped in her furs with her whiskey held close, she smiles at him with a jackal’s curve to her lips, sharp and knowing and made prettier for the danger of it. "Parts of me are," she murmurs, letting the words brush close enough for him to know precisely which parts she means, though the glance she lowers towards her glass is almost demure in its restraint. "The water’s still so cold, though."
She doesn’t let the complaint stretch any farther than that, not with someone else brought near enough to hear the shape of it, and so The Ark turns her attention upon Sunjata instead, blue eyes taking him in as if he’s weather worth naming. When his hand extends, she offers her own, and for the first instant of contact there’s something strange and impossible beneath the courtesy of skin against skin, a sensation like trying to grasp a wave before it breaks, all cool slip and living pressure before the woman of her settles properly into the gesture. The flash of lightning through his scars catches her interest at once, bright against him in a way that reminds her less of ornament than of a storm showing its bones through cloud, and her smile deepens around the compliment, indulgent as a tide accepting tribute.
"It’s nice to meet you in the flesh as well," she says, her voice warm with whiskey and salt-smooth amusement, her gaze still tracing the place where light had sparked through him before returning to his face as she pulls her hand away to warm herself with another sip of whiskey.
I've got a lot of sins, but you're my favourite
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.
