JACK
The changing of seasons meant little to Torchline other than the potential for storms, and Leafchange was, if anything, more pleasant than the relentless heat that preceded it. So it wasn't surprising that those who worked the docks and were in the sun all day didn't care much for layers of clothing. However, one such street urchin standing before an impressive galleon, barefoot and with his faded linen shirt open, was not like to be trifled with.
Taking a drag from his cigarette, Jack appraised the Ark over the rim of his sunglasses, watched the men working at jobs that had been completed a long, long (long, long) time ago. Usually the captain would have set sail at the tail end of Longheat, and would be just about ready to return at this point. But things in Torchline had been turbulent at best, and that was before the volcano had erupted.
So the Ark sat pretty, and now there was no point setting off and earning fucking good money trading until Flowerbirth. And yeah. Jack was pissed about that.
Taking a drag from his cigarette, Jack appraised the Ark over the rim of his sunglasses, watched the men working at jobs that had been completed a long, long (long, long) time ago. Usually the captain would have set sail at the tail end of Longheat, and would be just about ready to return at this point. But things in Torchline had been turbulent at best, and that was before the volcano had erupted.
So the Ark sat pretty, and now there was no point setting off and earning fucking good money trading until Flowerbirth. And yeah. Jack was pissed about that.
