| |
|
Sage had sort of just rolled his eyes in amusement as Lyra tugged him away from his wife, but moved to help her all the same. He was just excited really ....he wanted to meet the little one now, to hold him or her in his arms and shower the baby with kisses and affection. He wouldn't be wasting this opportunity. He couldn't screw it up this time. He wouldn't. Those thoughts did send his mind to the ship he saw though, and while he kept half his mind on Lyra, who was insisting he wasn't arranging the fruits and veggies by color correctly, the other half of his mind was trying to figure out what ship it had been. Who it could possibly be. It worried him, more than he'd like to admit. And he didn't want to ruin their good time together....ruin the good news. He wasn't even sure the ship wasn't already gone. But his nerves were tingling in a way they hadn't for a while, and he admittedly didn't feel like this was something that would just....blow over. He'd bring it up to Jora in the morning, if the ship was any closer. It was still rather far away, so they should be fine until tomorrow anyway, given how far out the boat was. |
|  |
|
| |
|
Jora stayed leaning against the counter, her attention drifting between Sage crouched beside Lyra and the soft swell of warmth in her chest every time their daughter laughed. For a moment, she let herself sink into it, memorizing it the way you did beautiful things when you weren’t sure how long they would last. Then something outside shifted. It wasn’t a sound—just a feeling. A subtle change in the air, like pressure before a storm. Jora’s gaze slid toward the open doorway, drawn by instinct more than thought, and her heart stuttered when she saw it. The ship was closer. Still distant, still quiet—but no longer a speck on the horizon. Dark against the bright line where sea met sky, its shape clearer now, its direction unmistakable. Toward them. Jora straightened slowly. Her hand lifted from the counter and settled unconsciously over her stomach as she took one step closer to the doorway, eyes narrowing as she tracked the movement on the water. The knot in her chest tightened—not full panic, not yet—but a sharp, alert tension that hadn’t been there moments ago. Her voice came quiet and steady, but it carried weight. “Sage.” Just his name. Nothing more. She glanced once over her shoulder to make sure Lyra was still safely at his side, then returned her focus to the sea, jaw set. The house around her suddenly felt smaller. Thinner. Less like a sanctuary and more like a shelter that might be tested. Nothing had happened yet. But something was coming. (OMG, imagine if they have twins? Like one girl one boy? lol) |
|
|
| |
|
(that would be adorable lol. And completely unexpected xD) Sage had looked up from where he was with Lyra, grin fading slightly when he noticed the set of her jaw, the way she peered out the door with a sense of unease. His lips tightened slightly and he glanced back down at Lyra, humming softly. "Do you think you can do get daddy's good knife out of the chest in our room," he asked her, knowing it was sheathed and totally safe for the girl to grab. Plus she knew better than to play with his dagger. The little girl nodded and raced off happily, allowing sage to move towards the doorway and stand beside Jora, eyes narrowing at the ship on the horizon. This ...thing that was coming ever closer. "I saw it earlier. I was hoping it had just been blown off course and was passing by," he murmured, shaking his head slightly before looking back over at jora, brow crinkling in worry. "What should we do," he asked. He didn't really want them to dock here. He didn't want to deal with visitors, whether they would wind up to he friend or foe. There was something dangerous in the air.... something that send a prickle along his spine. He didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. |
| |
|
| |
|
Jora didn’t take her eyes off the horizon when Sage stepped up beside her, but the second he spoke, she felt the weight of him there — solid, familiar, real. It grounded her just enough to keep the cold edge of fear from tipping into panic. Her hand stayed over her stomach, fingers pressed there a little more firmly than before. “I don’t like it either,” she murmured, voice low and tight. “And I don’t think it’s wandering.” The ship’s silhouette moved slow but steady across the water, too purposeful for her liking. Too straight. Her eyes traced its line once more before she finally looked at Sage. “We don’t invite anyone ashore,” she said immediately, tone firm — not angry, not afraid — decisive. “If they come in close, we stay inside. We lock everything. You keep Lyra in your sight.” Her jaw clenched slightly. “Whatever they want, they don’t get it from us.” She inhaled slowly through her nose, forcing her heartbeat into something steadier. The island had always felt like a refuge. Seeing that shape out there, dark against the sun-washed sea, made it feel smaller than it ever had before. “If they’re hurt, we help from a distance,” she added quietly. “Food on the sand. Water left where they can see it. Not a single step closer.” Her gaze hardened just slightly. “If they’re pirates… or worse… I won’t let them near our home. Not our daughter.” The thought of Lyra in danger curdled something inside her into iron. She reached out, lacing her fingers with Sage’s without looking at him. “We’ve survived worse,” she said softly. “We’ll survive this too.” Then, lower — for him alone — “But I won’t gamble with our family.” “Not ever.” |
|
|
| |
|
(sorry for taking so long, finals week took me out lol) Sage pressed his lips together in a thin line as jora spoke, nodding along in agreement. "No," he noted quietly. "They're heading towards us. They've already made progress since this morning." No doubt they'd seen the dock....that was likely where they'd make their entrance. Her words seemed reasonable...but something in his gut was twisting around angrily, lashing out and making the bile rise in the back of his throat. "Im not letting any of you out of my sight," he noted firmly. "Lyra can have a sleepover with us tonight," he added, glancing in the direction their daughter had gone to. When she mentioned pirates though, his jaw clenched. "I don't recognize the ship," he noted quietly. It was a ways out still, but if they were pirates he'd likely recognize it. There was always a chance but .. he almost wished it was a known pirate crew. He could make a sneaky appearance, kill them, and send the rest off it there were any left. He knew how to fight. He could do that well. But he wasn't sure what this situation held. It had been so long since he'd had to defend his own from something. The old feeling of fighting was returning, a small flicker of something darting through his gaze. "If it comes to a fight, I want you to take Lyra and run," he noted quietly. "She shouldn't have to see what humanity can become," he added. He didn't want his daughter hurt. Afraid of him. Anything to do with those things. |
| |
|
| |
|
(No worries!) Jora’s breath hitched—just barely—at his words. Not fear for herself, but for the way he said them. The old edge in his voice, the one forged in blood and necessity, stirred something fierce and cold inside her. She turned to face him fully then. “No,” she said quietly, firmly, every bit of softness gone from her tone. Her hand slid from her stomach to his chest, fingers splayed there as if to anchor him. “If it comes to a fight, we don’t split up. Not like that.” Her eyes searched his, unflinching. “I won’t have you standing alone thinking you’re expendable,” she continued, voice low but steady. “And I won’t run unless you’re running with us.” There was steel beneath the warmth now—Jora the survivor, Jora the mother. “We protect Lyra together. That’s the rule.” She drew a slow breath, pressing her forehead briefly to his, grounding both of them. “She won’t see violence if I can help it,” she murmured. “But she also won’t grow up believing her father disappeared into danger while she ran away.” At the mention of pirates, her jaw tightened. She glanced back toward the sea, eyes narrowing again at the advancing ship. “If you don’t recognize it, that’s worse,” she admitted. “Unknowns are always worse.” Then—softer, but no less certain—“You’re right to be ready. I can feel it too. Whatever’s coming… it’s not nothing.” She squeezed his chest once, a small, grounding gesture. “But listen to me, Sage. You don’t get to decide this alone. Not anymore. You’re not fighting for survival now—you’re fighting for us.” Her gaze flicked briefly toward the hallway where Lyra had gone, then back to him. “And I will burn this island to ash before I let anyone take our family.” There was no hesitation in her voice. Only promise. |
|
|
| |
|
Sage glanced down at the hand that found its way to his chest, letting out a soft breath at her words. "Jora, she can't fight. And if it comes to one, she'll be in danger," he reminded her, glancing back at the ship darkening the horizon line. "If you need to keep her or me safe, and you have to make that choice, promise me you'll choose her," he added, voice turning desperate as the thought of losing their daughter took hold. As he spoke, he grabbed her hand, turning to meet her gaze. "I'm not expendable. I will fight as long and as hard I can for us. But Lyra can't fight, and I don't want to risk the other vulnerable one we now have," he murmured, moving to place his hand on joras stomach lightly. Jora fighting was endangering their baby....and he was not willing to let that happen. He would take the force for them if he had to, and he would endure. He had to. When she mentioned unknowns, he nodded along, melting into her touch at the small squeeze she gave him, letting his head drop onto her shoulder with a sigh. "I know," he murmured softly. He pulled back then, so he could meet her gaze steadily. "But I cannot have you or our children in danger." He wasn't going to argue over this....their children needed her protection more than he did. So if it came to that last effort....that's what he needed then to do. And then he could raze the place with them safe elsewhere. He hope it wouldn't come to that....but his past had taught him that expecting the worse was always the correct option. They wouldn't get lucky. Not this time. |
| |
|
| |
|
Jora went very still when his hand slid to her stomach. Not cold. Not distant. Just… focused. She covered his hand with her own, holding it there, grounding both of them as she lifted her eyes to his face. There was fear there—real fear, sharp and raw in a way she rarely saw from him—and it cut deeper than the sight of the ship ever could. “I hear you,” she said quietly. Her voice didn’t waver, but it softened. “And I know why you’re saying it.” She drew a slow breath, forehead resting briefly against his before she pulled back just enough to look at him properly. “Lyra can’t fight. And neither can this little one.” Her fingers pressed lightly over his where it rested against her belly. “That’s exactly why I won’t make promises like that.” Her gaze held his, steady and unyielding—not defiant, but resolute. “I won’t choose between my children,” she said. “And I won’t choose you as the one who stands alone to be broken so the rest of us can run.” A flicker of heat sparked behind her eyes. “That’s not protection. That’s sacrifice. And I’m done letting the people I love turn themselves into shields.” She lifted his hand from her stomach and laced their fingers together, squeezing once, firmly. “You fight with me. Or we don’t fight at all. If it comes to it, we hide. We mislead. We outlast. We do what we’ve always done—survive.” When he leaned into her shoulder, she wrapped her arms around him without hesitation, holding him there while his sigh brushed her skin. Her chin rested against his temple, protective in a way that mirrored his own instincts. “I know your past taught you to expect the worst,” she murmured. “Mine did too. But this—” she gestured subtly toward the house, the island, their family “—isn’t the old world anymore. And I won’t let it drag us back there unless there is truly no other choice.” She pulled back again, just enough to meet his eyes, her expression fierce and unwavering. “If the moment comes where someone has to move, it will be because we decide it together. Not because fear made the choice for us.” Then, softer—but no less certain: “And if luck has ever been something we’ve earned… it’s been earned here.” |
|
|
| |
|
Sages eyes widened slightly as she spoke, sort of just letting her words sink in. Figuring out everything that was happening. He knew she was fiercely protective of her family, and of him, and he deeply appreciated it. But he did worry that if worst came to worst, a reckless decision could cause more than one person to get hurt. But, he wasn't going to argue with her. She didn't want to use him as a shield, and he understood that. He wouldn't want to do that either. "We stay together then," he agreed softly. He would fight for that as long and as hard as he had to. They didn't have any other options really. Where would they even run if they had to hide. Their whole life was here. Everything they had. All the work they'd put into it all. Even the forest and the gardens provided their food and water. At the mention of luck though, his gaze flickered back to the ship, and then down at his hands. "I hope you're right," he noted quietly. He could hear Lyra running back into the room, holding out the knife with a wide grin on her face, so he forced a wide grin onto his own lips and moved to take it from the little girl, moving back to preparing the food. "What do you say to learning how to dry and preserve some fruit after lunch," he suggested to her, to which she happily replied yes to. He wasn't sure how long they'd need to be careful, or if they'd have to run. So in the next day or so ...well, they should prepare things just in case. And keeping preserved food would be important. |
| |
|
| |
|
Jora felt some of the tension ease from her shoulders when Sage agreed, even if the worry hadn’t fully left his eyes. Together. That mattered more than anything else. She nodded once, slow and deliberate, as if sealing it between them. “Together,” she echoed quietly. She followed his gaze to the ship, her own expression tightening just a fraction. The hope in her chest didn’t vanish, but it grew cautious—armored. “We’ll make it so I am,” she said softly, when he admitted he hoped she was right. Not blind optimism. Intent. When Lyra came barreling back in with the knife, Jora’s face shifted instantly, the tension smoothing away as she smiled at her daughter. She watched Sage take the dagger and redirect the moment with practiced ease, and pride warmed her all over again. He was already thinking ahead. Preparing. Protecting without frightening her. “That’s a great idea,” Jora added lightly, playing her part. “We can make a whole lesson out of it—drying, storing, labeling. You’ll be an expert in no time.” She reached out to ruffle Lyra’s hair, earning a delighted noise in return. As Sage went back to the counter, Jora lingered close, her hand brushing his arm once—a quiet acknowledgment. Then she turned toward the window again, eyes narrowing slightly as she checked the waterline. The ship was still coming. Not fast. Not openly threatening. But closer than before. Jora’s hand returned to her stomach, thumb tracing slow, steady circles there as she breathed through the unease. Whatever was approaching, she would not let it steal this moment—not their laughter, not their calm, not the fragile normalcy they were choosing to hold onto. Prepare, she told herself. And if preparation wasn’t enough— She lifted her chin, gaze hardening just slightly. Then we endure. |
|
|
Sunny Day with a Full Moon tonight
