i see nothing better, i'll keep him forever, like a vendetta
The Ark’s grin vanishes when Jack reminds her what Murphy left behind and how much stoicism he showed them despite it. Her chin dips in a sober nod, guilt roughening the water of her thoughts until the harbour there turns restless, dark shapes circling beneath the surface at the memory of every betrayal he endured.
Her mouth curves again at Jack’s complaint, though this smile is sharper and far less sympathetic. "Oh, you were planning on watching?" she asks, haughty enough to suggest he has mistaken his role entirely. She has no intention of teasing anyone but him this time, having already learned how close her games with a tailor could come to ending in blood, but the idea of throwing chum into the water and watching the reactions ripple outward still sends wicked delight through her.
She withdraws her hands from his hair and pushes herself up from the bench, prowling around its side before fitting herself beneath his arm and sliding one of hers around his waist. Rising onto her toes, The Ark lets her lips brush close to his ear. "One day, you’re going to fuck me in the sea," she promises softly, the words full of heat and saltwater. When she settles back onto her heels, mischief and want gleam together in her expression before glancing past him, toward the colourful little booths scattered along the beach, their shutters still closed and their counters empty in the early morning quiet. Later, no doubt, they’ll be used for something incredibly dull like towel rentals or snacks wrapped in wax paper, but for now they stand abandoned enough to offer at least the illusion of privacy. Her mouth curves into a crooked grin as she looks back at him, eyebrows lifting with deliberate, coquettish challenge. "Unless you’d prefer the beach not hear your name this early in the morning."
Her mouth curves again at Jack’s complaint, though this smile is sharper and far less sympathetic. "Oh, you were planning on watching?" she asks, haughty enough to suggest he has mistaken his role entirely. She has no intention of teasing anyone but him this time, having already learned how close her games with a tailor could come to ending in blood, but the idea of throwing chum into the water and watching the reactions ripple outward still sends wicked delight through her.
She withdraws her hands from his hair and pushes herself up from the bench, prowling around its side before fitting herself beneath his arm and sliding one of hers around his waist. Rising onto her toes, The Ark lets her lips brush close to his ear. "One day, you’re going to fuck me in the sea," she promises softly, the words full of heat and saltwater. When she settles back onto her heels, mischief and want gleam together in her expression before glancing past him, toward the colourful little booths scattered along the beach, their shutters still closed and their counters empty in the early morning quiet. Later, no doubt, they’ll be used for something incredibly dull like towel rentals or snacks wrapped in wax paper, but for now they stand abandoned enough to offer at least the illusion of privacy. Her mouth curves into a crooked grin as she looks back at him, eyebrows lifting with deliberate, coquettish challenge. "Unless you’d prefer the beach not hear your name this early in the morning."
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.
