i see nothing better, i'll keep him forever, like a vendetta
The Ark answers the warmth in Jack’s voice with a crooked smile, affection woven through it too tightly to disguise even if she has no intention of lingering in the softness. It catches instead in the bright gleam of her eyes, there and gone beneath something sharper by the time his hand closes around her wrist.
At the promise murmured between them, she arches a brow and meets him with a wolfish look, lifting her free hand between them with three fingers raised. "That makes three, Captain." The count is delivered with grave precision, as though she is recording offences rather than invitations she has every intention of collecting on later. When he releases her, she lets him continue toward the barbershop alone, amusement trailing warmly through her thoughts as she turns in the opposite direction once he goes inside.
The Ark spends the time among the market stalls, following whatever catches her attention while keeping an easy awareness of how long Jack has been inside. By the time he emerges, he'll find her stretched comfortably along a nearby bench with one leg crossed over the other and an ice cream held loosely in her hand. Her own is already gone; his had been purchased afterward, though the morning warmth has begun to soften it despite her efforts. She catches a slow drip with a deliberately salacious curl of her tongue, to the dismay and approval of several onlookers depending on their relationship statuses.
At the promise murmured between them, she arches a brow and meets him with a wolfish look, lifting her free hand between them with three fingers raised. "That makes three, Captain." The count is delivered with grave precision, as though she is recording offences rather than invitations she has every intention of collecting on later. When he releases her, she lets him continue toward the barbershop alone, amusement trailing warmly through her thoughts as she turns in the opposite direction once he goes inside.
The Ark spends the time among the market stalls, following whatever catches her attention while keeping an easy awareness of how long Jack has been inside. By the time he emerges, he'll find her stretched comfortably along a nearby bench with one leg crossed over the other and an ice cream held loosely in her hand. Her own is already gone; his had been purchased afterward, though the morning warmth has begun to soften it despite her efforts. She catches a slow drip with a deliberately salacious curl of her tongue, to the dismay and approval of several onlookers depending on their relationship statuses.
i see how this is gonna go, touch me and you'll never be alone
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.
