Voyager

[MethodicalSlacker]

She followed them onto the ship, once it seemed settled that they were all, indeed, down for it, and the consequences that might befall them. Once on the deck, Amaryllis went to the windows and peered in, transfixed by the disarray inside the yacht and the bobbing of the boat under her feet. Remembering another boat, a small dinghy she'd been on with her father, she reflected on how time seemed to fall away on the water. Rain slicked every surface on the deck of the boat as she walked out of earshot, stepping in serpentines to account for the rock back and forth, like a baby, cradled by wood, tossed about on the water. You couldn't pass a sobriety test with that walk, but you could keep from sliding into the water and drowning in the deluge.

Get this, though; Jess, around the corner, pointing open mouthed across the harbor to king ratfuck of entrapment himself. Upset would be an understatement, this was treason, betrayal, and so Amaryllis felt a rage rise in her chest and a shout strangle itself in her throat—but there were more pressing matters to attend to, such as getting off of the craft, finally, and scattering. Young though she was, she could not think herself foolish enough to believe hiding inside was a good course of action, anyhow. So Amaryllis followed Jess off of the boat, watched her admittedly sick pirouette jump, and, once on solid ground, sprinted as fast as she could the fuck out of there.

[Amaryllis Peszek-Byrne continued elsewhere.]