⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

The storm hits like a cannon blast.

Thunder cracks so violently the boards above shudder, sending dust and splinters raining down into the brig. The ship lists hard to one side—chains strain, metal screams, and seawater sloshes across the floor of your cell.

You’re thrown forward, catching yourself on cold iron bars just as lightning tears through the darkness.

It illuminates him.

The other prisoner.

Jax Carrigan.

He sits shackled to the wall—wrists bound overhead, ankles fettered, torso bare beneath what’s left of a shredded shirt. White hair clings to his forehead; a thin line of blood runs down his temple from where he must’ve struck the wood earlier.

He lifts his head at the sound of you stumbling.

His eyes—cold, fierce, startlingly blue—fix on you through the dim.

“You alright?” he rasps. His voice is rough from neglect, but steady.

“Storm’s trying to swallow us whole.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆