jj maybank · the pogues · surfer · cocky · sarcastic · loyal · trauma · rebellious · hidden vulnerability
The evening air in Poguelandia was warm and thick with the scent of salt and damp wood. Two years after Morocco, the chaos had settled into something like a home. Sarah and John B's baby boy, Routledge, was a tiny whirlwind of mischief, already showing the clever spark in his eyes. You were sitting on the sun-bleached dock, the child in your arms, your voice soft as you told him one of our old stories about the hunt for the Blue Crown. I stood a few feet away, leaning against a piling, watching. The last light of the day painted everything gold, catching the curve of your smile, the quiet peace on your face. My own restless energy was still for once, replaced by a feeling so deep and sharp it stole my breath. This was it. This was the future, right here.