[open] This is fine.

Crushed and filled with all I found -

more, give me more, give me more

When I awaken, I keep my eyes shut. I can feel sand against my cheek, my arms out at my sides. I pretend to be asleep, and I listen. There are waves lapping against wood, hissing against sand. It smells like salt-spray and spices, and there's so much noise, and ... daylight. Daylight has turned the insides of my eyes to fire.

"Shit!" I growl and squint when I open them, greeted by the blaze of the sun against the bluest ocean I've ever seen.

I wipe the sand from my face and push the hair from my eyes. I take stock of myself: I feel no hurts or wounds. My head is clear, there nothing beyond a full body ache sent from the depths of the Blacklands.

Blacklands. Nocturnia. Bodja.

I look to either side of me, and there is neither Ryx or Bodie. My chest squeezes tight, and I haul myself to my feet. I spin, and all I see is tropic coastline filled with torches and a jungle and a bustling port not far off.

"Bodie?" I shout. "Bodja! Ryx?"

Nothing. Dread rises like bile in my throat, and because I don't know what else to do, I begin to walk. I don't know these shores, these people, that port or that sandbar. This isn't Cloudless. It isn't a Lowland city. I'm not even sure Nocturnia exists anymore, or if the Wyrm has finished it's domination of the Skylands.

Further up the beach, I have to stop and lean against a palm tree while I take deep breaths with my heart hammering in my chest. My palms are sweaty as I press them against the tree. All at once I want to feel nothing about what happened, because I'm not sure how to bear it. I am afraid that it will be like a wave sucking me under.

I focus my attention on the glittering water and torches until I can breathe evenly again.One step at a time. This place is beautiful, and I appear to be in no immediate danger here, but I don't know where here is.

I raise my arm to wave it to the first person I see in the distance. "Excuse me!" I leave the tree behind. "Could you help me?"

Straea

i want to taste you again

Ain't nothing quite like a hapless stranger walking right into the shark's mouth. These days - these long, lazy, warm (probably) days - Jack doesn't really have anything like good or bad moods. Since his run-in at a shrine with someone who definitely wasn't the Voice, he's been quite languidly in between. No getting drunk, no fucking, no needless physical enjoyment... but no migraines, either. Nothing to get in his way, to stop or distract.

So when he hears a voice and turns on the sand, his boots leaving whirling prints on the beach, the captain looks better than one might think, given that he's lacking in sensation. Sharp blue eyes look the stranger from her toes right up to her face, lingering on the aspects that are naturally of interest (like breasts, or places where weapons might hide). The crackle of panic in her thoughts is almost familiar by this point - this isn't Jack's first time coming across a freshly dropped Outlander.

"I could," he drawls. "What's it worth to you?"

like a secret or a sin

JACK

Crushed and filled with all I found -

more, give me more, give me more

The man I've come across reminds me a little bit of Ryx, had he grown his hair out and dressed a bit more... colorfully. I slow my steps, my feet pitting in the sand. He gives me a once over - one I return in kind. I have to remind myself that he is a stranger, this is a strange land, and no matter how alone and afraid I am, I must be careful.

"I could," he says. "What's it worth to you?"

I narrow my eyes a fraction. I had hoped for someone that would happily offer me information, perhaps even a direction to go. I have nothing to offer him, not like when I struck my deal with Ryx, and even then it had been only a promise of land.

"Worth is determined by the help, I'd think," I finally say, and I return his once over of me in kind.

I press my lips together, and I look out to the sea. This is not my ocean. I see no mountains. No rolling, undulating clouds to cradle this land. I don't know how far away home is. I look back at the man, and I hate how vulnerable I feel - how exposed. I don't have Bodja here to back me up - I don't even have any weapons.

"I'm Straea," I decide to introduce, tucking my own name away like I have been for years. I stick my hand out to him for a handshake, I offer him a smile, and I play the simple girl for all its worth. "I'm afraid I don't know where I am - I'm hopelessly lost. Could you tell me where I am?"

Straea

i want to taste you again

She's a sharp one; Jack gleans that from no more than a quick look at her appearance, her mannerisms, her thoughts. And care, he's sure she will soon realise, is a very wise thing to take in a land like this one. As she offers her hand and backtracks - simple girl his ass - he gives her another long and lingering look, before reaching out to clap his hand into hers. It's warm and calloused, a sailor's hands by anyone's account, but it's more than hauling rope and barrels that have given Jack his scars.

"Call me Jack." He jerks his head over his shoulder. "Behind me's the Kaiholo Port. You're in a stretch of islands called Torchline. Main island's called Haulani. I'll give you that much for free. What's it worth for more?" Smirking, he doesn't let her hand go. "You ain't my first Outlander, love. I know you've got nothin', so let's cut the crap here, shall we?"

like a secret or a sin

JACK

Crushed and filled with all I found -

more, give me more, give me more

For a moment, I worry that he will refuse to take my hand and simply send me packing. I don't like to depend on a stranger, but if he doesn't see that I don't like it, everything will be fine. I keep up my mild smile and quirk a brow, and I do not withdraw my hand. Putting on a good front is a practiced art that started very young.


I don't hide my relief when he takes my hand - his are rough, like Bodja's - and he offers me his name. "Call me Jack."

"Jack," I repeat with a respectful nod. It's easy not to act like a queen anymore. I have not been one for some time. I wonder if he has any titles, and if he hides them.

"Behind me's the Kaiholo Port." He gestures with a nod over his shoulder to the colorful market and docks. "You're in a stretch of islands called Torchline. Main island's called Haulani. I'll give you that much for free. What's it worth for more?"

He doesn't release my hand. I temper my smile, and I hold his eye, and I all but loath the knowing smirk he's got on.

"You ain't my first Outlander, love. I know you've got nothin', so let's cut the crap here, shall we?"

Outlander. I've never heard that term before, nor had I ever heard of Torchline, or Haulani. As much as I hate his smirk, I hate even more how much I don't know. I could try and find someone else - but I have no way of knowing if the next person is worse or better.

Fucking perfect.

"If you know I have nothing, Jack, then what is it you hope to gain from me?" I finally dare to ask.

Straea

i want to taste you again

She can loathe it all she likes; Jack doesn't care. He watches her take in the world around them - the port in the distance, the bobbing ships on the ocean, the warm sands, and waits for her to make her appraisal. And when she does, he smiles again - it's not a knowing smirk this time, but it's just as shit-eating. "An extra pair of hands, and whatever skills you're bringin' with you," he says, turning a bit to point out across the docks.

In the port, bobbing amongst the other vessels, is one ship in particular that's marked by its sun-bleached maroon sails. "That's the Ark," he murmurs. "She's mine, and she can always use more crew. Room and board in exchange for work, until you find your feet." He winks - the implication being that his crew rarely leave, once they're in.

like a secret or a sin

JACK

Crushed and filled with all I found -

more, give me more, give me more

Jack's smile morphs into something far more wolfish than before. "An extra pair of hands, and whatever skills you're bringin' with you," he says, and I follow his eyes to a mighty ship with sails that looked dyed with old blood. He has my attention. He knows it, I know it. "That's the Ark," he murmurs. "She's mine, and she can always use more crew. Room and board in exchange for work, until you find your feet."

He winks, and I raise a single brow.

I'm not stuck. As much as it feels that way, I can walk away, head into the market and play it safe. Rely on myself, steal, perform, do whatever I need to do - I have done it before. But... but.

I have never been without my cousin before. I have never been alone.

An idiot. That's what I am for considering this. But I am alone, and I have no kingdom left to fight for - just a cousin to find.

"I have the impression that your dealings aren't as simple as trade," I say, keeping my spine straight. "What kind of risk am I running if I run with the captain of the Ark?"

Straea

i want to taste you again

There are swathes of conversation that might be had, if only Jack could voice his response to her thoughts. About how she'll never see her cousin again, unless they find themselves dropped into Caido as well. About how she'd be more of an idiot if she didn't take up his offer, given what he is to Torchline (none of which she will know yet, of course). But she's sharp as a tack, as it turns out, evidenced by her questions, and Jack's smile spreads into a grin.

"I'm insulted," he says, not sounding it one bit. "You won't be running any risk with me, providing we play our cards right." Because Jack is good, and he doesn't get caught, and he doesn't (despite appearances) take unnecessary risks. Straea, he feels, is not an unnecessary risk. "I move things around. I get things for people that might sometimes be difficult to find." I'm a filthy smuggler and we both know it, basically.

like a secret or a sin

JACK

Crushed and filled with all I found -

more, give me more, give me more

"I'm insulted," Jack replies easily. "You won't be running any risk with me, providing we play our cards right. I move things around. I get things for people that might sometimes be difficult to find."

The corners of my lips curl up. I see what it is he offers now, but I am unsure if it is a snare for a fool to loop their necks in, or if I will find opportunity here with the smuggler called Jack. As long as I play my cards right. It would help if I even knew what hand I was holding, or what card game we were playing. I should be used to feeling this way by now; I'm always stumbling in the dark, and there's nothing to do but keep going.

"I'm no stranger to hard work," I tell him. "But I don't know your laws, your waters, or how you get around either one."

And then I smile and look out at the Ark as she bobs in the waves, because if I'm doing this, I'm doing this. It's not the first impulsive decision I've made with my life, and I'm sure it won't be the last.

"Let's have a tour." I look sideways at Jack, ignoring the knots in my belly. "Help me understand where I am and the ship I'm tending to, Captain, and you have yourself a new crewmate."

Straea

i want to taste you again

"You will, by the time you've spent a season on the waves with me." She'll know the laws and how to get around them, the lay of the land (and sea), and then some. Or she could walk away, and choose to brave Torchline alone. Jack doesn't particularly care which, but at the same time he's not likely to be forgiving to anyone who turns down a perfectly good offer. Yes, that makes him a hypocritical shit. No, he doesn't care.

A tour, though? A tour he can do. He doesn't reply, merely turning to walk across the sand and raising a hand to beckon her to follow. "What's the last thing you remember?" he asks. "You're what they call an Outlander, if my hunch is right. Fell through a portal into another world. You're never gettin' home, so... get that through your head pretty quick."

like a secret or a sin

JACK