THE ARK
The first curl of smoke has panic flaring bright and sharp through The Ark’s thoughts, her body going rigid in the space between one breath and the next. She trusts Jack’s control, she does, but trust is not the same as instinct, and every plank and rope and sail within her knows what fire can do when it is close enough to kiss. For a moment, some old, wordless part of her wants to recoil clear across the cabin, but instead, she stays exactly where she is.
The fact that he stifles it so quickly has something sweeter softening her mouth despite herself, a small smile there for the fraction of a second before he chases her lips again. She lets him have it, of course, though her hands slide down to cover both of his where they grip the desk. Saltwater gathers beneath her palms and spills over his knuckles, melting the ice he has lashed across the singed wood until it runs clear over both their fingers.
When she pulls back again, it is only far enough for her nose to brush his. "No," she whispers, smiling wryly against the closeness. She is not sorry; he had replaced rotting deckboards, rusted nails, torn sails and every ruined thing that had kept her from moving as she should; this is no different, except that he is flesh beneath her hands instead of timber.
"We can cut the rest of it off," she adds, her gaze dropping to his shoulder and the useless weight of his arm. There is no sense in making him move it when the shirt can simply be sacrificed instead. First, though, she reaches around him for the rum and pours more into his glass, letting the steady sound of it fill the room for a moment before her head turns toward the door.
Outside, Bassian has stomped close enough now that she can feel him in the pause beyond the door, hovering with the restlessness of someone who clearly wants to make sure his captain is still alive, but with enough familiarity of Jack to know that entering without invitation would go poorly. No doubt the big man was weighing the consequences of this with the knowledge of how reluctant his Captain was at accepting any sort of healing.
The fact that he stifles it so quickly has something sweeter softening her mouth despite herself, a small smile there for the fraction of a second before he chases her lips again. She lets him have it, of course, though her hands slide down to cover both of his where they grip the desk. Saltwater gathers beneath her palms and spills over his knuckles, melting the ice he has lashed across the singed wood until it runs clear over both their fingers.
When she pulls back again, it is only far enough for her nose to brush his. "No," she whispers, smiling wryly against the closeness. She is not sorry; he had replaced rotting deckboards, rusted nails, torn sails and every ruined thing that had kept her from moving as she should; this is no different, except that he is flesh beneath her hands instead of timber.
"We can cut the rest of it off," she adds, her gaze dropping to his shoulder and the useless weight of his arm. There is no sense in making him move it when the shirt can simply be sacrificed instead. First, though, she reaches around him for the rum and pours more into his glass, letting the steady sound of it fill the room for a moment before her head turns toward the door.
Outside, Bassian has stomped close enough now that she can feel him in the pause beyond the door, hovering with the restlessness of someone who clearly wants to make sure his captain is still alive, but with enough familiarity of Jack to know that entering without invitation would go poorly. No doubt the big man was weighing the consequences of this with the knowledge of how reluctant his Captain was at accepting any sort of healing.
everything I want you know i'm going to get it
whether it's your fame or your cableknit sweater
you might've done it first but I know i'll do it better
whether it's your fame or your cableknit sweater
you might've done it first but I know i'll do it better
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.
