Sage nodded along as she said moving around was just sort of who he was. She was right, he supposed ...maybe it was the ocean in him. Always moving, always restless. A jumble of thoughts and ideas and things that no one else could have or think of. But it came in a sort of peaceful chaos, he supposed. He still likes to rest, to settle down and relax with his family. It was an odd combination, but it worked for them. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

He shot her a grin as she called him cute, eyes glittering. "See? You can't resist me even when you try," he teased softly as he moved to go make the note and send it off, giving her a silent nod in response to her thanks, face softening.

It was for more than the note....he knew that. It was for everything. For still trying, still being here for them. For caring enough to think about the small things like this. It was nothing really, but this was their wedding. Her family deserves to be there. Besides, her mother had been kind to him. Shed known, in that quiet way he found Jora did too. It was different of course, since he wasn't marrying her or anything, but she knew her daughter, and he knew she'd be happy for them.

He stood on the beach for a while, watching the bottle shoot off down the current, even after it disappeared from aight. The ocean really was beautiful. Peaceful. It was also dangerous... unpredictable and wild, with an anger like no other. But it was also his family in a way. It had cradled him close when no one had. It had provided for jim. Kept him safe. In some ways, it had become his mother. It was a somewhat odd statement, but it brought a smile to his face all the same.

He moved to slip back inside then, to jora and Lyra, who he heard stirring in her bedroom. He smiled and moved to scoop the little girl up with a soft coo, moving to wrap her up in a blanket and bring her out with the rest of them, her little fists tightening around his shirt as she curled in close.

Sage had moved out of their bedroom with the baby happily, wandering over and sitting back down on the kitchen chair, content to just watch jora and play with Lyra. To hold her close. Dinner would be ready soon, of course, but for now he was content to just be. The three of them, all together and happy. It didn't get much better than this.

Dinner was ready soon enough, of course, and he moved to help Jora set the table and whatnot before sitting down and downing a few bowls of soup. It really bad delicious, and now that he had slowly regained his appetite, he wasn't shy about eating as much as he wanted or needed. At least ...so long as everyone had all they wanted as well.

The next few weeks continued like that. Calm, peaceful. Slowly getting work done around the house. Preparing for their wedding, however small it would be. He wanted it perfect for her. When he finally received jace's word that he was docking within the hour, it sent him into a frantic hyperfocus, just making sure everything was perfect and then moving down to the dock to greet his old crew nervously.

They all seemed glad to see him, and even gladder to know he'd found a home and, now, a wife. He hadn't introduced them to Lyra yet, as the baby was asleep inside, but they knew Jora too. He recognized Joras mother immediately....though he noted the surprised glance he received from her. It made sense, he supposed. She'd only seen him posing as a servant. And now ...well, now he was like he normally was. Confident, strong. A Captain. It would be shaking for anyone, he supposed. But he welcomed her warmly, and she responded in kind. He wasted no time in bringing her to the house, where Jora was preparing lunch for the family.

Jora hummed softly to herself as she worked in the kitchen, the scent of spices and warm bread drifting through the little house. Lyra was napping, finally—though Sage had taken the long route to get her down, slow pacing and soft lullabies and a lot of cuddles that made Jora’s chest ache just watching them. She didn’t say anything, though. Just let herself watch. Let herself feel it.

Peace. That’s what this was. Maybe for the first time in her life, she wasn’t waiting for something to go wrong.

She had just finished slicing up a few vegetables when she heard the front door ease open, the sound of footsteps behind it. Her head turned, expecting Sage’s voice, maybe a tease about the soup or a complaint that he hadn’t gotten to steal a taste before it was ready.

Instead, it was her mother’s voice.

Soft. Familiar. “Jora?”

Jora froze for a second, breath caught mid-inhale. The knife in her hand trembled slightly before she set it down carefully and turned.

Her mother stood in the doorway, framed by sunlight and sea-salt air, her eyes wide and already a little misty. She looked smaller than Jora remembered—older, maybe—but still solid. Still her. And next to her, Sage stood with his arms folded and that little nervous smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as if unsure if he’d done the right thing.

Jora blinked a few times before her feet carried her forward. She didn’t say anything. Just wrapped her arms around her mother and held on, tight and fierce. Her mother let out a soft breath that hitched halfway through, arms encircling her just as firmly.

“You made it,” Jora whispered, words muffled against her shoulder.

Her mother pulled back only enough to brush her hand along Jora’s cheek, the way she used to when Jora was little. “Of course I did. My daughter’s getting married.”

She turned toward the stove, shaking herself out of the emotional haze. “Lunch is almost ready,” she announced, slipping right back into her usual steadiness. “Hope you’re hungry. I made enough for the whole crew.”

Her mother gave a light laugh. “Then it really must be a special occasion.”

Jora smirked. “Don’t push it, old woman.”

But her eyes were soft, her hands steady again, and her heart—fuller than it had been in a long, long time.

Sage had shown Joras mother down to the house, and then to the kitchen, glad that Jora had moved to take her mother's attention off of him. He really still wasn't sure what she thought of him, and it made him nervous. Shed figure out how was a pirate sooner or later, and he wasn't sure how she'd respond to it all, even if Jora was marrying him. Of course, she was surrounded by his crew.... honestly he just didn't want anything to go wrong.

It all had to be absolutely perfect. For Jora, mostly. That was who this day was for. Well, him too, but he was doing all the decorating and planning and had tried to do his best to make this an event she would love. Cherish. Because he certainly cherished her. He didn't care what it all looked like....he was just glad to be marrying her. So he catered to what he knew she'd like in terms of decorations and such.

He felt his shoulders relax slightly when she and her mother got a long right away, sort of standing there awkwardly for a moment before slipping back out to join the other men out on the lawn. They were all having a good time, helping set things up, that sort of thing. It wasn't long before they were all messing around together, just like they'd used to. He had missed it.

Of course, it turned rowdy fairly quickly, though not enough to mess any decorations or any tables or anything up. But he soon found himself wrestling Jace, scuffling around in the dirt with a wide grin on his face. Jace had practically raised him up, taught him to fight. It was pretty 50/50 as to who won when they sparred like this. They'd started off with swords, but once they'd both lost them it had turned to an all out brawl on the ground, as it normally did. They always enjoyed themselves, and the crew enjoyed watching and placing bets and such, so really it was all a good time.

Jora had just turned back to the stove, letting her shoulders relax now that her mother was here—safe, warm, and as steady as she’d always been. Her hands moved almost automatically, adding a pinch more spice, stirring slow and methodical. But then she heard it—a little squeaky yawn and the soft pat-pat of small feet on the floorboards from the bedroom.

She paused, looking over her shoulder just in time to see Lyra’s tiny form stumbling out, blanket still wrapped around her like a cape, wild curls flattened on one side of her head. Her eyes were bleary, one hand rubbing at them, the other gripping tightly onto the edge of her blanket.

“Look who’s up,” Jora murmured, a smile tugging at her lips. She wiped her hands on a cloth before crouching down, arms open.

Lyra toddled over on sleepy legs and half fell into her, burying her face into Jora’s neck as Jora scooped her up with practiced ease. The warmth of her daughter pressed against her chest, the soft little hum of her breath—it still made something inside her settle.

Jora straightened slowly and turned, eyes meeting her mother’s again. “She just woke up. I was going to wait until after lunch, but…” She trailed off, gently bouncing Lyra and brushing a hand through her hair.

“Ma,” she said softly, nodding toward the older woman, “this is Lyra.”

At her name, Lyra peeked out just barely, one eye peeking from under the mess of her hair and blanket. She stared for a moment, suspicious in the way all toddlers were when they saw someone new. But when her grandmother smiled and reached out a hand, gentle and slow, Lyra blinked—and then leaned into Jora again.

“She’s shy at first,” Jora murmured, kissing the side of Lyra’s head. “But she’ll come around.”

Her mother didn’t push, just lowered her hand and gave a warm smile. “She looks just like you did at that age. Same stubborn little squint.”

Jora huffed a small laugh, surprised at the sudden sting behind her eyes. “Gods help us if she really turns out like me.”

“I’d consider her lucky,” her mother replied simply.

Jora held her daughter a little tighter. She didn’t say anything for a moment—just breathed, rocked slightly on her heels. Then finally, she stepped forward.

“Here,” she said, voice softening. “You can hold her. Just for a bit.”

Lyra whined softly at first, a little unsure, but when Jora gently passed her over and her mother took her into her arms, the little girl settled surprisingly quickly. Jora watched with a quiet intensity, arms crossed loosely, smile small but real.

Her mother swayed with Lyra automatically, like she’d never forgotten how, and looked back to Jora with tears in her eyes.

“She’s perfect.”

Jora nodded. “She is.”

For a moment, everything else faded—no pirates, no planning, no sparring out on the lawn. Just the kitchen, and the scent of soup, and three generations standing together in a place they could finally call home.

And that was all Jora had ever really wanted.

Sage had roughed around with his old crew for a while...enough time for Jora and her mother to get reaquainted with each other. Get the tears over with, that sort of thing. He figured it would be better for them to do that alone, or he'd just stand there awkwardly some more. Besides, he wanted to catch up with his old buddies, if you could call them that. They were more than that. Not really friends, but people he knew he could depend on. Friendly and helpful. They all respected each other. It was odd, but not unwelcome. Not at all.

Eventually though, he knew Jora would want him back at home, so once he and Jace had finished beating each other up, he wandered back inside. He was a mess, of course, but he'd freshen up before the ceremony. It would be held that evening, with the sun setting over the ocean. It would be a lovely time, he knew that much.

He slipped in quietly, smiling when he noticed Lyra in the arms of her grandmother. Good, he supposed Lyra would enjoy having one. He closed the door softly, so as not to startled anyone or anything. Jora would know he'd come in, of course, so he moved to sort of just wander into the kitchen, peering at the food that was slowly coming together.

She hadn't needed to cook for the whole crew...they had food...but it was ships food, and she'd insisted. Something about everyone eating more than 'those damned sea biscuits' at her wedding. He certainly didn't mind, and he doubted the crew did either.

He'd moved to greet her with a peck on the lips as he passed her, cooing a soft 'hello sleepyhead' to Lyra, and then shifting around to find the plates and silverware the pirates had brought with them so they could start putting food on plates. Or....bowls, he supposed, on the soups case.

He eyes Joras mother warily as he worked, still not entirely sure how to approach her. In all honesty he was a little scared of the woman. Wanted to prove himself, but he wasn't sure how. Hell, he wasn't sure anything he'd do could make her actually like him. Then again, she'd been friendly as he'd greeted her and shown her to the house, even if they'd only exchanged a few words and brief handshake. He really wasn't sure what to make of her. She seemed happy though, and Lyra liked her. Jora was overjoyed to see her mother again. So hed put up with anything for them to be happy like this.

Jora hadn’t expected to cry as much as she did, but the moment she’d felt her mother’s arms wrap around her again, she’d crumbled like sand under the tide. Years of distance and loss—all the time she thought she’d never see her again—had just poured out of her like a broken dam. She wasn’t ashamed of it, not really. And her mother hadn’t made her feel like she should be. They’d both cried, held onto each other, sat on the floor with Lyra between them and just existed for a little while. No pressure. No pretending.

Her chest still felt raw in the best way—like something cracked open and sunlight had finally gotten in.

By the time Sage slipped back inside, she felt lighter. More whole. She could hear the faint rustling outside, the distant laughter of the crew, and knew it meant Sage had let loose a little. She was glad. He needed that.

She didn’t look over immediately—she didn’t need to. She felt him. The soft creak of the floorboards, the subtle shift in the room's air. The gentle press of his lips against hers made her smile, barely catching the little curl of amusement behind his soft “hello sleepyhead” to Lyra. The toddler gave a sleepy giggle and nuzzled against her grandmother’s shoulder.

Jora turned slightly, eyes following him as he moved toward the cabinets, grabbing bowls and utensils like he belonged here—and gods, he did. Her gaze softened without her meaning it to, a quiet ache blooming in her chest. He was covered in dirt and bruises, hair a mess, shirt rumpled. He looked so alive.

He wasn’t perfect, no. He was rough around the edges and wild in ways that still caught her off guard sometimes—but he tried. For her. For Lyra. For this home they were building together.

She watched the way his eyes darted toward her mother, just for a second. He was trying not to be obvious about it, but Jora knew him too well. She saw the hesitation. The worry.

She stepped in close, brushing her hand across his back as she passed him to grab the ladle. “She doesn’t bite,” she murmured under her breath, lips quirking just a little. “Not unless you give her a reason.”

He didn’t laugh, but she felt his tension drop just slightly.

Jora turned toward her mother, who now had Lyra sitting in her lap with a wooden spoon, the baby smacking it cheerfully against the table. “You know,” she said aloud, “Sage might be brash and chaotic and a little too confident for his own good, but he’s the reason I’m still alive.”

Her mother looked up, something unreadable in her eyes. Jora met it, didn’t look away. “He’s the one who carried me out of that ship. The one who put his life on the line when he could’ve run. The one who held me when I fell apart more times than I can count.”

Silence passed. Heavy and full. Then her mother gave a slow, small nod.

“I didn’t need convincing, sweetheart,” she said quietly, gently bouncing Lyra. “You’re glowing. I haven’t seen that since before your father passed. That boy may look like trouble, but I’ve seen the way he watches you.”

She turned her gaze to Sage then, sharp but not cruel. “I see you, boy. And if you hurt her—”

“Mama,” Jora warned, half laughing, half mortified.

But her mother only smiled and held up her free hand in surrender. “I’m just saying.”

Jora looked to Sage again, letting her fingers brush his as she passed him another bowl. It didn’t need to be said, but she whispered anyway, soft and low just for him:

“She likes you.”

And gods, did that make her chest swell. Because she loved him. And now, so did her family.

Sage had glanced over at jora when he felt her hand on his back, mouth twitching into a sort of amused smile at her comment. He didn't respond.....he didn't need to. Jora knew him well enough to know her comment, small as it was, helped ease the tension in his shoulders. It was definitely still there....he knew the woman didn't exactly love him...but it had eased slightly.

He couldn't hide the surprised glance in Joras direction as she started talking to her mother, blinking slowly as a light flush formed on his face. He'd never really heard her say stuff like that to anyone but him. Especially not so defensively. But he did appreciate it, and he couldn't help but just stare at her, mouth slightly agape.

Though, he'd snapped it shut and moved to keep working, her mother's comment and Joras mortification pulling a soft chuckle from his lips. "If I ever hurt her, you have my permission to do whatever the hell you want to me," he noted, clearly serious about it all. Then his nose wrinkled and he shot an amused glance at jora. "If anything's left, that is," he teased her lightly.

He grinned over at jora when she stated that her mother liked him. Normally, he would have responded with some sort of snarky comment, but right now he was just relieved she liked him enough to let everyone enjoy the wedding. Including herself, he supposed.