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Jora let out a soft breath, shoulders sagging as she leaned against the counter for just a moment, letting herself feel the exhaustion settle into her muscles. Her hands rubbed at her stomach absently, a reminder that even in all of this, she needed to care for more than just herself. She glanced over at Sage, then back toward the couch. The offer was tempting, and she knew he was right—rest would do her good. She allowed herself a small, grateful smile and moved toward the spot he’d patted, settling down beside him with a quiet sigh. “Thank you,” she murmured, letting her head rest lightly against his shoulder. Her eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment, but her senses stayed alert, listening to the faint sounds of the island at night, the distant lapping of waves against the shore. Every creak of the house, every rustle in the trees, still held her attention, but she let herself relax against him, grounding herself in his presence. Her hand found his, curling fingers around his palm automatically, needing that connection as much for comfort as for protection. “I’ll stay light on my feet,” she murmured softly, mostly to herself, “but… just a little rest. For now.” Her breathing slowed, her heartbeat settling into a steadier rhythm as she let the warmth of the fire and the steady presence of Sage anchor her. Even with the threat outside, even with the storm that had just passed, she allowed herself this small reprieve, trusting him to hold their home and family while she gathered her strength. |
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Sage had nodded with a soft smile when Jora agreed to lay down and rest for a bit, just wrapping his arms around her as she slid into place beside him on the couch. "Sleep," he murmured, wrapping his fingers around herself when she reached for his hand, resting his own head on hers and placing a kiss to the top of her head. He was glad to feel her breathing slowing down and her body relaxing as time went on .. she was tired, he could see it in the way shed moved around, the slight tightness around her eyes. It was good that she was able to rest some while they had a chance. He turned his eyes to the ship anchored just off their coast, the window framing the dock and the woods beyond their house. There was no movement from the ship or it's passengers yet....but they would come. He knew that much. And they'd come prepared. But for now, they were safe. They'd gotten rid of quite a few men, and Lyra was none the wiser for it. He was nervous for what the next day would bring though....if they attacked while Lyra was awake he wasn't sure what he and Jora would do. |
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Jora let herself sink fully into him when his arms came around her, the tension she’d been holding finally easing as his weight and warmth anchored her. His murmured instruction and the kiss to the crown of her head drew a faint, tired smile from her, even as her eyes slipped shut. She kept her grip on his hand, fingers lacing through his like she needed the reassurance that he was still right there. From behind her closed lids, she was still aware of everything—the quiet crackle of the fire, the steady rhythm of his breathing beneath her ear, the distant hush of the sea outside. Her body relaxed faster than her mind wanted to, exhaustion winning the argument whether she liked it or not. Still, some part of her stayed alert, instinctively counting heartbeats, listening for sounds that didn’t belong. She knew where his attention had gone even without looking. The ship. It lingered in her thoughts too, a dark, waiting presence just beyond the trees and shore. They weren’t done. She could feel that as surely as she felt the rise and fall of his chest. This was only a pause, a breath before the next move. Her jaw tightened slightly at the thought of Lyra waking to chaos, of fighting with daylight and fear and questions in the mix. She shifted just enough to press her palm more firmly against her stomach, a quiet, protective gesture, before relaxing again. They would figure it out. They always had. For now, though, she let herself rest against Sage, trusting him to watch while she gathered what strength she could. Her breathing evened out, finally slowing to match his, the island holding its fragile peace around them—for this moment, at least. |
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Sage welcomed the feel of joras body curling in alongside his...even asleep, her presence there was steady and sure. It calmed his thoughts down, allowed him to keep his head in the game despite all the thoughts that came with sitting there quietly. The memories that he'd ignored and pushed away for so long. He knew they'd pop back up here and there, haunting his dreams and such, but he hadn't expected his nightmares to quite literally follow him around. To invade his home. It really was one of his nightmares coming true. He just hoped the ending would be different than how he'd always dreamed. But Jora was there, soft and comforting in the moments where his nerves got the best of him. Even asleep, she was there, calming the storm in his head. But he let her rest....he knew she needed it. She wouldn't let herself fall asleep completely he knew, but she could rest. A light sleep. A few hours passed like that, before she stirred again, and he peered down at her with a soft smile. "Nothing yet," he murmured, glancing back out at the ship looming on the horizon. They'd be back....but for now they were safe. Well, safe enough. |
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Jora stirred slowly, the world seeping back in piece by piece—the warmth of Sage’s arms, the steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek, the muted quiet of the house. His voice reached her before her eyes opened, low and gentle, and she let out a soft breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “That’s good,” she murmured, her voice still rough with sleep. She shifted just enough to look up at him, one hand sliding along his chest as if to reassure herself he was still solid, still here. Her gaze followed his for a moment, drifting toward the dark shape of the ship beyond the window, and a familiar knot tightened in her stomach. She was awake now—awake enough to feel the weight of everything waiting just beyond the night. Still, she didn’t pull away from him. Instead, she nestled closer, grounding herself in the warmth and the quiet they had bought with blood and effort. “They’re waiting,” she said softly, more observation than fear. Her thumb traced a small, absent line against his shirt, a calming motion meant for both of them. “But so are we.” Jora exhaled, steadying herself, and rested her forehead against his collarbone. For now, Lyra slept. For now, the house still stood. For now, they were together, breathing in the same fragile peace. “That’s enough for tonight,” she added quietly. “We’ll face whatever comes… when it comes.” |
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Sage had hummed in agreement with Jora when she noted the people on the ship were waiting. "I'm sure most of them are sleeping," he noted with a sigh. "They'll come tomorrow with a plan. Men." His brows furrowed slightly at the thought of what might happen. Enough men, and their little family would be no match, and there wouldn't be anywhere to hide. But Jora was right ....the two of them were waiting too, and they would fight tooth and nail for this little family of theirs. Nothing would come between them. Not while they were still here. Together. "We'll make it through this," he noted after a few moments of quiet. It was to try and convince himself as it was to try and reassure Jora, of course, but he needed to say it. Hope was dangerous, and he'd learned not to hope long ago. It only ended in disappointment. But he found himself desperately wishing this would all work out alright. For all of them. They didn't move for a while after that, but as dawn came, so did a line of boats filled with men. He stiffined slightly, just whispering "Jora," though she had already moved to look when she'd felt the shift in his body language. There were too many. Too many men, too many weapons. They had machine guns and such....how were they supposed to survive this? He wasn't sure. His grip tightened on Jora, the sinking realization that this home may very well turn into a family grave within the hour. Except ....she'd want him. He wouldn't die with the rest of them. His jaw tightened as he thought of that, and his gaze moved past the canoes full of men to the larger ship where he knew she was. She would not get him again. |
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Panic hit Jora like ice water the moment she saw the boats. Not for herself. Not even for Sage. For Lyra. Her breath caught sharply, fingers digging into Sage’s shirt as her eyes tracked the line of canoes cutting toward the shore. Too many. Far too many. Her mind raced, leaping past weapons and tactics and blood straight to the small room down the hall—the narrow bed, the soft rise and fall of Lyra’s chest, the way she slept curled around her blanket. “No—” Jora whispered, the word breaking as it left her mouth. She pulled back just enough to look at Sage, panic bright and uncontained in her eyes. “Lyra,” she breathed, voice trembling now. “Sage, she can’t be here when they land. She can’t see this. She can’t—” Her throat closed, and she swallowed hard, fighting the rush of nausea and fear clawing up her spine. Her hands came up to grip his face, forcing his attention back to her when she felt his gaze drift toward the ship. “Listen to me,” she said, urgency sharpening every syllable. “If they get inside, if they start shooting—she won’t hide. She’ll come looking for us.” A fractured breath. “We have to move her. Now.” Jora was already shifting, already half-rising from the couch despite the tremor in her limbs. “The cellar. The crawl space. Anywhere they won’t think to look,” she rushed, fear spilling over into action. “I can take her. I’ll keep her quiet, I swear—I don’t care how long we have to stay there, Sage, I just—” Her voice cracked, and she pressed her forehead briefly to his, grounding herself for half a heartbeat. “I won’t let them take her,” she said fiercely, raw terror sharpening into something hard and unyielding. “Not her. Not ever.” She pulled back, already turning toward the hallway, every instinct screaming to put herself between Lyra and the world that was closing in. |
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Sages thoughts had gone straight to Lyra too, and when Jora grabbed his face he let out a shaky breath, grip tightening slightly. "Go. Get her to the cellar," he agreed. "Tell her you're going on an adventure, and give her some of the herbs we have down there. Put her to sleep," he added. He felt a bit bad about drugging the girl, but it would keep her asleep for whatever came next. "They wont," he noted when she said she wouldn't let them take her. "We won't let that happen. But I need you to take a deep breath and get your mind working at a normal pace again," he added, making sure to keep his voice low and soothing. Once she'd taken a deep breath, he released her, watching her move toward lyras room before he placed himself in the hallway. Whichever door they came through first, he'd be ready. He didn't know what would happen next, but they would not find his daughter. Or his wife. They had agreed to do this together. But they wouldn't stay together ....they'd be killed. He'd be taken. So, when Lyra and Jora disappeared into the cellar, he moved to lock the door from where he was at. It would keep them there, keep them safe. Jora would get them out, of course, but it would take her time. Time for him to be caught. To be brought back to the ship. For them to clear the island out, so no one else would be hurt. Then he'd make his move. He had to destroy the root of the problem. Killing the men coming into the island would do nothing, not with boatloads more on the ship. No, he need to take the ship out. Take her out. Once and for all. To do that, he needed to get close. It terrified him, but this was the only way. He knew that. Which meant he needed to keep Jora and Lyra locked in the cellar for at least a few hours. "I'm sorry," he whispered, praying she wouldn't be too mad when he came back. If he came back. He hoped this didn't mess things up too badly. Not for them, at least. |
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Jora moved on instinct, not thought. Her hands shook as she gathered Lyra up, murmuring soft nonsense about adventures and secret hiding places, forcing a smile onto her face that felt like it might shatter at any second. Her heart was hammering so hard it hurt, every sound outside too loud, too close. She pressed a kiss into Lyra’s hair, whispered reassurances, fingers already reaching for the herbs with practiced ease even as fear made them clumsy. “Just sleep, love,” she breathed, voice barely holding together. “Mama’s right here.” By the time Lyra’s body slackened against her, safely drifting into sleep, Jora’s own breath was coming too fast. She shifted them both into the cellar, lowering Lyra carefully, tucking her in, smoothing her hair again and again like that alone could shield her from the world above. Then she turned back to the door. It didn’t open. At first, she frowned—confused, distracted, tugging at the handle again. “Sage?” she called softly, not wanting to raise her voice, not wanting to frighten Lyra even in sleep. The lock didn’t budge. Her breath stopped. No.
No, no, no. “Sage,” she said again, sharper now, panic flaring hot and immediate. She rattled the door once, twice, then froze as understanding crashed down on her all at once. He locked it. Her chest tightened painfully, a sharp, aching mix of fear and betrayal stealing the air from her lungs. “You idiot,” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes as anger surged in right alongside terror. “You absolute, self‑sacrificing idiot.” She pressed her forehead to the door, teeth clenched hard enough to hurt, shaking as realization set in. He was planning to let himself be taken. Planning to face her alone. Planning to leave Jora trapped underground with their child while he walked straight into hell. “I told you,” she hissed under her breath, voice trembling with fury and fear. “I told you we don’t do this alone.” Her hand dropped instinctively to her stomach, the other curling protectively around Lyra’s small form. She forced herself to breathe—slow, deep, controlled—just like he’d told her to moments ago. Panic wouldn’t help. Breaking down wouldn’t help. Thinking would. Jora straightened slowly, wiping at her eyes, jaw setting with quiet, dangerous resolve. “Alright,” she murmured to the dark cellar, to the sleeping child, to the man upstairs who thought he could make this choice for her. “You want time. I’ll buy time.” Her gaze lifted to the door again, fierce now instead of frantic. “But don’t you dare think for a second I’m staying put.” She checked Lyra one more time, gentle and careful, then began moving—counting supplies, checking exits, testing the lock from the inside. Her fear was still there, coiled tight in her chest, but beneath it was something harder. Sage wasn’t facing this alone. Not if she had anything to say about it. |
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Sage had known Jora would fight him on this. He expected her to....but he also knew that was a good lock, and it would take her some time to get it opened. Which left him just enough time to do what he needed to do. He didn't expect the angry rattling of the door to hurt quite so much though, and when he heard her pound on the door it sent a pang through his chest. He hated doing it. He hated to go back on his word. But even if she hated him for it, this was what needed to happen. He turned his gaze to the men climbing onto the beaches then, taking a deep breath and slipping out onto the front porch, aiming the gun at the men in front. Lyra would be drugged and asleep by then, so he squeezed the trigger, knowing it wouldn't wake her up. The sound would be muddled to her and Jora anyway, since they were underground. He picked as many men off as he could as they ran for the house, using a chair and the railing of the porch to block their bullets best he could. Once the gun ran out, he used the crossbow until he didn't have the range anymore, and once that happened he fell back to the doorway, drawing a sword and his dagger, gritting his teeth as the door flew open. He stayed right inside the doorway, taking one man out at a time, but of course there were too many for him to handle on his own. There was a sudden shot. A searing pain in his hand. Blood. A lot of blood. A missing finger. He stepped back half a pace with a yelp, but that was all the men needed to crowd inside. Grab him. He let out a grunt when he was forced to his knees, a fist meeting his face and foot his gut. He couldnt really move, since he was being held there, but the next blow was to his jaw, and his vision went black as he crumpled. He came to on the ship, bound and gagged and with a splitting headache. He wasted no time in working on getting out of his bonds though, even as Amy stepped into the room with a cruel smile. She'd grabbed his chin, lifting it up to meet her gaze. He did so willingly, glaring daggers at her despite the panic churning in his gut. "Welcome back, love," she'd purred. "Pity you made us do this to you," he added, stroking the side of his face, which had blood running down it that had half dried by now. "You'll relearn eventually," she hummed. "Until then, you can sit and think about your decisions." |
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Sunny Day with a Full Moon tonight
