sixthiterationlogs | 002 ♙ open

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002 ♙ open

WHO: Jess Brightwell.
WHERE: The inn.
WHEN: Sept. 7th.
OPEN TO: Anyone!
WARNINGS: Doomsday prepping because rude, mother nature.
STATUS: Open.

Jess wasn't normally one to spend time idling around when he had a canyon to comb through, but the growing ferocity of the earthquakes had shifted his priorities in an abrupt. Getting caught in the forest during yesterday's quake and nearly pitching forward into some brambles on account of the buckling earth had made it abundantly clear these things were getting worse--and the next one could do actual damage.

To think he'd brushed off last week's as an overactive imagination. Hindsight was 20/20.

He really didn't care to find out how bad their living situation would get if the buildings caved in on their already meager stores, and to that end Jess was determinedly preparing the inn in case of the worst case scenario. Being a pessimist had its advantages.

Jess spent the better part of the morning lugging around water and filling up whatever would hold it, then moved on to the unoccupied rooms in the inn, going through each one and making it less of a potential deathtrap taking down mirrors and moving heavy or breakable objects off shelves. His own room had already gotten a makeover: he'd pushed his bed far from the window, moving the rest of the furniture out of the way so he wouldn't be likely to get crushed by a shelf in the middle of the night.

Better. Not great, but better.

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Despite her words, to Jess' eye Margaery seemed to have had no trouble retaining a girlish, soft edge in the face of their hardship. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It suited her.

"That's generous of you," he remarked lightly, eyebrows lifting. "What do we owe you for that service?"

Humor underscored his tone, but at the same time, he knew better than most that business was business. Were she a Brightwell, she'd be charging a high price, and making sure she walked away with a more than generous profit for her good deed. Favors didn't come for free, not even in survival.

"Nothing too great. The system we have developed is comfortable. There is an even exchange for goods, no more, no less. I recently gave several strawberries to a friend, in return, he gave me a few eggs. I am happy to barter, if needed."

It made everyone equal, which was a strange thing. There was no one who was wealthier than the rest. They were all on even footing.

"Certainly you have skills that could be exchanged for such things?"

He wished it were as simple as she made it sound. Even if every single one of them were paragons of fairness and virtue and happily accepted the same amount of whatever his or her neighbour had, business was still business, at odds with simplicity. Factor in the will to survive...

Well, it wasn't the first time Jess had wondered how long the ideals of fair trade and playing nice would last before things started getting messy, and it probably wouldn't be the last. People were a volatile element. Put them over an open flame and explosive things happened.

None of those thoughts translated to Jess' expression as he stood there and listened to her, however. His smile was easy. "Anything you might need, ma'am. I'm at your service," he said, taking his earlier words and turning them around. He wanted the others to see he was just as willing and able to match their efforts in taking care of the village's needs. Weak links cost everyone time and energy.

She wasn't naive. This sort of lifestyle couldn't exist in any other world and it was possible that it wouldn't last long here either. Yet there was no harm in trying. It was the system that had been set up before she had arrived and it had worked thus far.

Everyone shared equally and did equal work. There might come a time when someone would shake the system, but with so many in favor of continuing like this, they would face a great deal of opposition.

He didn't need to say anything, the thoughts had crossed her mind before. For now, she remained optimistic and pleasant. "I appreciate that. What did you do in your world?"

"A little bit of this, a little bit of that," he replied, emphasizing the words with a back-and-forth wave. "'Anything' means anything. I'm a bit of a jack-of-all trades, really."

Sometimes that was a contrived answer for people who weren't accomplished at much, or people who wanted others to believe they were accomplished at much. To Jess, it was just the truth. The smartest way to do his job, be the kind of person he had to be. Mastering everything meant no one could hamstring you over a weakness.

He and Margaery had one thing in common: if there was something about bushcraft he didn't know, he'd damn well learn it.

"But professionally? Soldiering." And other things even more professionally than that, but that was a topic Jess veered away from.

"Jack-of-all trades?" It was the first that she had heard that term, but at least had a sense of what that meant. "So you were a wanderer?" She was teasing him, but wondered what sort of life he lead in his world. A jack-of-all trades sounded like someone that wasn't usually tied to just one path.

He at least managed to experience a number of things that the world had to offer. Mastering a number of skills would actually work to their benefit. He would be essential to their survival.

"I suppose this place isn't much different from a battlefield." The constant concern about survival and the wondering where the next threat would come from.

"Yeah, it means someone who can do a lot of jobs." It was an English phrase that, in retrospect, he supposed he ought to assume not everyone was familiar with, considering their backgrounds were varied in ways that went beyond the normal bounds of the imagination, beyond conventional lines of nationality or race. "You could say I've done a bit of wandering. Mostly I was taught the value of picking up as many skills as you can when you can, so I'm getting to know my way around what needs doing in town."

Any requests she needed filling, he could find a way to do--that was also just plain good business. The Brightwells, by necessity of their trade, had become flexible and chameleon-like in order to keep their monopoly from being confiscated by the Library or undermined by competitors, and Jess supposed he was no different. He was a Brightwell to the bitter end, even when it was up in the air whether other Brightwells welcomed him or not.

"I wouldn't mind having an actual target to shoot at."

"You will find a number of jobs that require varying skills. You might end up being a godsend." While everyone seemed to have a part to play, there had been an absence of some roles that needed to be filled. It was better for them all to have someone who knew a little bit of everything. He could at least teach them in turn.

"If only it was that simple." She replied, rather glad for the quiet, no matter what it might indicate. It at least gave her time to think and analyze the situation. She had no idea what was behind all of this strangeness or the gifts, but she could at least observe and gather conclusions in her own time, rather than forced necessity.

"I suppose you have seen the gifts that some have been left?"

A godsend? Jess laughed at that. He wasn't modest all the time, but his ego definitely wasn't big enough to support the idea he would be irreplaceable.

Not for lack of effort, mind you. Knowing more than the next person had its benefits.

"Taking care of livestock is nothing to sneeze if we're talking what keeps the community together," he replied with good humor. "Keeping them alive keeps us alive." Margaery wasn't doing too shabby for herself, either, soft hands or no soft hands.

"The boxes?" Mentions of the personalized gifts had a way of sapping humor out of a moment. "I've gotten one as well. They're bold, these people, I'll give them that much."

Regardless, he could easily hold a great deal of worth to her. She was eager to learn as much as she could, if only so she wouldn't be a bother to the rest of the village.

She was touched by the words, and would normally brush them aside modestly, but they rang true to her and helped soothe her embarrassed ego. She wasn't made for this sort of life and was scrambling to learn what she could.

"I enjoy the work and the animals. It's the first time that I have felt so accomplished." She admitted shyly.

She nodded, "I have received two during my time here. Both items are ones that I needed."

Someone enjoying hard labor? You didn't see that very often. Jess could, and did, work himself to the bone without complaint, but that didn't mean he wouldn't rather be doing anything else in the world. He had a feeling if he tried to imitate the honest, simple satisfaction in her voice, he wouldn't sound half as convincing.

"You know, I think this might be the first time I've heard someone say they found something pleasant about this place," he mused, quirking his brows at Margaery. He didn't mean that in a bad way. It was just... different.

"You said the spinning wheel was in one of your boxes. What was in the other?"

She gave a soft smile, a thoughtful expression sweeping over her face. "Coming from the place that I was originally, there are things about this place that are almost a relief." She told him, rubbing her arms absentmindedly. "There is something honest about working with your hands. The feeling of accomplishment is very pure and innocent."

It would sound strange for anyone not familiar with Westeros, but it was the best that she could explain things without going into the details. She doubted she could explain it very well.

"Seeds. I received a number of seeds."

It did sound a little strange, but only in a way that made Jess acutely aware of his jadedness. He put on a good face--he tried to keep up a friendly rapport with the other prisoners, put his head down and did his part, determinedly refused to give up on a plan to escape--but he was full of black bile ready to explode like a vial Greek fire. Had been since day one.

Had been before that, if he was being honest, when every aborted conversation with Morgan and dead end with Thomas had been fraying his endurance to a thin thread, just as the threat of earthquakes was doing now.

What did a pure and simple sense of satisfaction feel like? He'd known it once, but now it felt like he'd forgotten it, a vestige from a long-ago life he didn't know if he'd ever find his way back to.

Sad.

Jess considered her quietly for a moment, allowing another faint smile to quirk his lips, genuine nevertheless. "I can understand that, I suppose," he said. "I envy you."

She didn't expect her life here would bring much in the way of envy. When she had been queen, there had been a number aiming for her position and seeking to cast her down, her mother in law among them. Power had a way of bringing out the beast in a man and she had once believed that winning the game would offer her true satisfaction.

In the end, all it had brought was misery. How could she long to return to that sort of life when it destroyed her family? She had been very good at the game, but talent was not enough anymore to make her happy.

She only hoped that Jesse might find something to bring him a bit of happiness in this place as well.

"We each find what we are missing in the end. This just happened to be mine. You will find yours."

Her words were so unexpected and oddly confident that he chuckled again, a sound pulled out of him by the force of his surprise. It was strange to him that anyone, least of all Margaery with her own concerns to worry about, would try to comfort him.

Comfort felt like it was for other people. Other people who weren't him. He could blame the Artifex until he was blue in the face, but he was partly responsible for every regret he now nursed, he knew that.

If he'd been quicker... But he hadn't been. He'd let them take Thomas. He'd let them take Morgan. And now he was losing at this game between them and their abductors. He was spinning his wheels, and if he was frustrated by it that was nobody's fault except his own.

"What I'm missing is the clue that'll make what's going in this town add up. That, and a way out of here that doesn't get sabotaged in some freak accident," he said, shaking his head. "Thanks, though. I appreciate it. And thanks for the reminder at least one of us is getting by all right here, even when it's starting to feel like this town runs off of Murphy's Law."

Comfort was easy to give for her, it allowed her to focus on others rather than herself, something that she was never wished to do. There was too much fear in her at the darkness that might be lurking inside. If not darkness, than vulnerability, something that was even more terrifying.

She could see a look in his eyes, an emotion shared by a number of people from Westeros. That haunted expression that spoke of horrors and pains. He had his share of suffering, yet here he stood, still strong enough to contribute and face the day.

She wasn't wrong. He would find happiness in the end, she was certain about it.

"You're not alone." She offered him, not bothering to ask about Murphy's Law. There were much more important matters. "Whatever this place brings, we are in this together. Don't feel that you need to keep any concerns or thoughts to yourself."

Alone.

But that was just the thing, he was more alone here than he'd ever been in his life--and he'd been a good portion of that life thinking he knew what being alone felt like. However, those were feelings a person didn't talk about openly.

Pretend to be fine long enough and you would be fine. That was Jess' limited understanding of how to find peace of mind, though admittedly it was a bit like hunting for a pot of leprechaun gold under a rainbow, if you asked him.

"Thank you for the thought. After being called a potential godsend, I'm getting a seriously big head." But in all honesty, she didn't have to say anything, but she had. Just because he didn't know how to accept it didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the offer when she was certainly under no obligation to him to make it.

"You're right about that, we're better off working together than apart. You'll have to keep me posted on how it works out--with the spinning wheel and the seeds, I mean."

It had been good talking with Margaery. The offer to do more of it was always open, as far as he was concerned.

She nodded, shifting the water bucket in her hands. She would need to get it back to the house soon or risk straining her arms. It had been pleasant to meet Jesse, even if she sensed there was something haunted about him, a sadness that prevented smiles from reaching his eyes. She knew that it might not be welcomed, but she would still make a point to speak with him and see if she could help him feel more at ease.

He deserved that much.

"I will. Please, look after yourself."

"I always do," he replied. He nodded once in tacit agreement. Looking after themselves here in this town was the name of the game--and Jess didn't intend to lose. Not come hell, or high water, or even earthquakes.

"You do the same. And remember--if the situation with your bungalow gets worse, the inn's still open for business. Kate wouldn't mind the extra company."

He gave her a casual salute with two fingers to see her off. For now, there was plenty of work to see to. No rest for the weary or the wicked.

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