sixthiterationlogs | A Shadow from the Darkness

Entry tags:

A Shadow from the Darkness

WHO: Jacob Frye
WHERE: South village
WHEN: First two weeks of February
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: Will updated as needed

This adventures was only real to my eyes - Open, post event, random village things, choose your own adventure

The last few months have been a swirling emotional mess in Jacob's head, second only to the fact that he's done little to nothing to truly care for himself as he should. Living mostly constantly on the go, rarely crashing in the house that Evie had first taken when she arrived, finding himself more likely to perch on roof tops, or steal a few hours sleep in a chair by the fire in the Inn than to try and find true sleep. He likes to believe it keeps him on edge, keeps him at the ready, but the truth of the matter is, it only allows him to pretend everything is okay and ignore the emotions that he's not great at handling.

Ignoring the growing acceptance of Evie's loss, at best back to London, at worse captured or dead somewhere. Accepting it isn't the same as coping with it, just as he's not coping with New Year's Eve, waking to most he has come to consider "his" gone, or seeing Altair wounded and worrying about what could happen if things here took another downward turn. Coping mechanisms are obviously for losers in Jacob's mind.

Running on exhaustion, bitter cold, and the numbness of ignoring your pain is apparently the best coping mechanisms. That and at least looking damn good while you do it. At least feeling more himself with trousers like he had back home, his waistcoat to wear over the variety of hoodies he received and his newsie cap in place. That there's a malachite handled kukri on his hips, beneath the heavy woolen coat, is helping him with feeling more secure. At least physically.

I should be heading somewhere - Woods around South Village

Every now and again he disappears into the woods, testing the treetops and learning a new way to climb and run. Natural and trained skills kick into play, though there are times that he loses his footing, scrambling to catch himself before falling too far. The frustration from that sends him out there more often, refusing to let failure slow him down, that chip on his shoulder he'd thought he left behind in childhood, before London, getting a little bit bigger and heavier in those days.

One of the falls comes from a broken branch. The first limb he hits sends pain through his side. The second through he feels nothing even as the branch snaps. Grabbing another, catching himself, righting himself and realizing something is different. He's heard talk of the abilities some possess, seemingly all of them, but he's not seen it in action on his own body. Whacking his wrist against the trunk and watching as bark flies away from the force, he can't help but smile. Glancing up, he begins his climb. Perhaps it won't be so much a leap of faith when he merely has to have have faith in this ability, but at least in that moment he has faith in something with all he's been trying to avoid in his life.

Looking back at myself - Off Color, around the village, dojo, river

Jacob notices the change in his wrist device first. The new color is certainly a bit off putting, though he supposed virulent pink is likely never to be an assassin's colors, but it isn't at first that he notices the difference. Training more often, and not in the fun, troubling ways he might often even in the village.

Going for runs, training at the dojo, even taking swims in the freezing cold of the river, all trying to keep his body in perfect shape, a honed weapon as he had been trained as a child. Those memories seemingly rising above the rest, giving him a bitter respite from the emotions he's tried to keep buried as to not cause trouble between himself and those he cares about, and now it's easy to give over to the strict training of his youth, and the code driven into his head.

Pushing himself to be the best assassin he can be, to study and learn and stay to the code his father had drilled in to them.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Brigitte's been pushing herself too hard these days, too: long hours at the forge and at the dojo, now putting in time at the infirmary too, plus trying to get everything set up for her trip down south with Reeve & company... all of which combines to slouching back to the inn at night, bone-tired and exhausted in a way that's been keeping her busy. Her normally brisk, quick strides are slower tonight, and she's dragging her heels in a way she knew her mother would've chided. There's a smear of charcoal on her cheek from the forge and her hair in a disheveled braid, coming undone at the edges.

She's ready to just climb up the stairs and collapse facefirst into bed, but glancing at the main room, she sees someone dozed off in front of the fire, a newsie cap tucked low over his forehead. A familiar face -- and dressed far better than before, just like he'd promised.

So she heads over. She might not know about Jacob's assassin instincts, but she's been around enough soldiers in her life to know not to sneak up on anyone -- so she clears her throat, rather than tapping him on the shoulder.

"You were right, the new clothes are pretty dashing."

It takes a moment for it to happen, but Reeve recognizes the gentleman as the one who had asked him to dance, who had smiled warmly and worn a garishly colored vest. Somehow in the time since then he hadn't actually run into the man again, so he'd assumed it was one of those who had since disappeared. What he found instead made him frown softly at the man. After a quick trip upstairs to liberate a spare blanket from the storage room, he returned back to the chair by the fire and draped it over the man.

Jacob his mind provided. The poor man, falling asleep in a chair like this. Couldn't be comfortable.

Jacob comes to instantly at the sound, shifting to bring one hand up, fingers curled in tight as he faces the sound of someone approaching. And pauses, blinking as he recognizes Brigitte. Slowly lowering his hand, smiling widely though as he rises, glad for the only time since he's been in this place that his hidden blade had not been in place.

Rising quickly though, offering a nod as he doffs his cap in a shallow bow.

"Why thank you. I'm glad you appreciate them," he says, straightening his jacket, and glad he didn't have his hood up either. At least he looks respectable now. "This is much like my clothes I had before I came here. Without my jacket, or all of the devices," he says, his hand touching his hip where the kukri is secured to his belt. "I'm not sure what or why, or even how, but I'm glad for it."

Then he ducks his head, realizing he's being Jacob and talking about himself. "How are you?"

It's the motion that makes Jacob shift, eyes fluttering open as his hand suddenly moves. Not as if to attack, but defensive, protecting himself. Or he might have been if he didn't catch himself, eyes wide a moment before he clears his throat and lowers his hand.

"Pardon. I am sorry," he says, only then realizing he's been covered. It's touching, and nearly makes him smile, even as he's chiding himself for being so foolish, for taking such a chance. For a moment he can hear his father's voice in his head, snide and growling and telling him he's dead now.

Instead he shakes it off, shifting to sit up more fully in the chair. "Thank you. You're too kind. I... I hadn't realized I was so tired," he admits, which while the truth in many ways, ignores that he's been running on lack of sleep and adrenaline for too long.

"It happens to us all," Reeve assures him with a smile as he settles down in another chair. "I find myself in a better position every few nights. Granted mine is because I work too hard. It is good to see you again, Jacob. You should go home, get yourself some sleep."

He doesn't know what at the moment, Jacob doesn't have a home to go to. That this is the best he's got and the best he's going to get. Otherwise he'd happily offer a bed in his place for it. There is only so much you could do, though, when people weren't quite ready to help themselves.

"Tired," she says honestly, bluntly. There's no real use hiding it, when Brigitte does seem like a wilted version of herself at this late hour -- a far cry from her usual chipper determination. But she cocks her head, looking closer at Jacob; by appearances, he's much the same, if he's dozing off in public.

"Maybe someday they'll drop that off for you, too. What kind of devices?" she asks. There's something in the way that Jacob instinctively reaches for the places where he might have kept his weapons, and she knows what that's like. The way her fingers itch to pick up her shield or her tools, only to find that they're still gone.

Jacob smiles at that, shifting to stretch a bit, the hint of stiffness bearable for the warmth of the fire, the way it seems to settle into the room. He doesn't mind the cold, but every now and again there's a need to warm up to the bone.

"It's good seeing you, Reeve," he says, smiling as he settles into the chair, keeping the blanket close to him. "Though not nearly as delightful as the celebration. And I should perhaps, but I came by for dinner and then settled in for a bit. I like being in the hub of things, though we don't have much of a hub here."

"And you, Jacob," he says. "I half worried you were a dream. Or at least hiding from me after I stepped on your toes."

Yes, his dancing skills had been disappointing. Too rusty, too unfamiliar of using it with men.

"This is the closest we have," Reeve agreed, thoughtful. "But did you manage to get food before you fell asleep? I could bring you something from the kitchen."

"Let me tell you what everyone tells me," he says, chuckling. "You should sleep more," he says, though there's a roll of his eyes that might well make it clear that he knows it's never just as easy as that. At least it hasn't been since he's been in this place.

"Perhaps, though I have a friend who may be fixing some of it for me," he admits, hoping that it all comes through. "And mostly just some knives that I've been training with since I was young." Ever since he was a child, but he knows how many react to that. "I got one but not the others. I wouldn't mind the grappling hooks, but no real use for them here."

Hawke is a skilled fighter, a master huntress, and a survivalist, but she still has yet to have that particular level of comfort with climbing that she's seen Altair and the others possess. 7 is the same way. They dive from rooftops and skitter up trees, and while she physically could do it no doubt, it's simply not in her comfortable wheelhouse. She's very fast and agile, but it's simply not her type. Still, she does enjoy watching it.

She's carrying her personal daggers from home today, sheathed as best as possible at her belt, although she hopes to get Tony or that new fellow to make them for her back. It's where she prefers to keep them, since it's a natural habit of hers to reach there for a weapon, not at her belt. Hawke is watching from a distance when she sees Jacob fall and widens her eyes slightly, rushing to try and be there if he falls.

Instead he seems to catch himself and she can't see the use of his power, only that he seems to be back to climbing. "You alight there, darling?" Hawke grins and glances up. "Keep on going, I've got a wonderful view from here." Flirting as easily as breathing. Can she help it that he looks good in trousers?

"I'm told there is a belief there is nothing dreamy in the jacket I was wearing. Nightmarish, to be honest, from what I was told." And still leaves him bitter. He is rather fond of that jacket.

"You were a delight though, and there was nothing that would have made me hide with your dancing skills."

Jacob nods, shifting and stretching his legs out, toes points, shifting to sit up in the chair more like a person visiting and not crashing.

"I did. Much as it might look like I'm living as some urchin, I'm doing a few things to take care of myself. Promise."

"Well, I admit, it was vivid," he chuckles, shaking his head. "But if memory serves, I said nothing ill about the jacket. I do remember noting that I hoped my own would look bluer next to it, as it is my favorite color."

The color had, in a way, suited the strange man who had just walked right up to Reeve and asked for a dance. There had been a boldness Reeve had respected and admired, and he no more had an issue with that now than he had then. After all, he's seen truly terrible fashion before, and what Jacob was graced with had been... different but not bad.

Still, he does have another concern, and it was the fact that until a few moments ago it had seemed like the man was, well, deliberately trying to be comfortable enough to sleep. He'd ask if Jacob had anywhere to go, he had beds to offer after all, but no doubt that would be rude. Surely the man would be offended if someone thought he could not handle himself. Especially with that urchin comment.

"If only the world here had more urchins to go around. They are particularly tasty in sushi. Not the child version, of course, the sea creature. But I'm glad to know you're taking care of yourself. I am, though, a man who worries over his acquaintances with almost the same depth of bothering as I do my friends. It makes me a touch of a menace back home."

The sound of a voice is a bit startling, knowing others come out this way but having lost himself of the excitement of the new ability to pay attention to who else might be about.

The sound of the voice startled him, but he is quicker this time, reaching for a branch and letting his weight drop him down to another. Peering down through the foliage, spying someone else there.

"I can say much the same," he calls, finding beauty in the upturned face and bright eyes staring up at him. "Want to join me?"

"You could grapple... trees?" Brigitte suggests, but skeptically, and by the looks on both their faces, they know it isn't a very good idea. She laughs a little, and scrubs at her face.

"I'm always out like a light by the end of the day -- swinging a hammer all day probably helps. But chamomile grows in this area, so you could make some tea if you're having trouble sleeping at home." A beat, a consideration, as she suddenly realises she has no idea where Jacob sets down his newsie cap at night; all she knows is that it certainly isn't the inn, since she's lived here long enough by now. "Where do you live, anyway?"

She can always find the people who are her kind, who have her energy and would fit in with her friends. They blaze like the sun for her, even from far away. Jacob she could tell ten seconds into their conversation, he would love the gang. All sorts of ambiguous shades of gray after all, and witty attractive people, just like him.

Hawke playfully preens at the compliment, winking at him. She loves compliments. "Alas, I am not nearly as skittering like a squirrel as you. Ask me to go running in complete stealth across a field, that I can do, perfectly arch an arrow, absolutely, but climb a tree, it's a hindrance." It is important to know your limitations. And yes, she can learn, and maybe she'll let him learn, so they can flirt all the more.

"I was rather enamored with it," he admits, smiling. "And it did make yours more vibrant. It's a good combination," he says, not at all bothered about the way some felt about his jacket. The night had been a delight in his mind, though it had brought a lot of emotions and pain into his life.

For a moment Jacob's brow arches in the mention of sushi which is apparently a food, and then he laughs when that is cleared up. "So glad to know we're not speaking of the children," he admits with a chuckle. "I admit, I've never had this sushi, but I will guess it is better without children."

"I'm not too bad with a needle and thread. Perhaps if we can find some cloth, I can help you get another. I mean, I'm not the greatest either, but it might be functional enough," Reeve offers. Because... well, that smile might be worth it.

Almost as worth it as making people flinch because they don't respect how sunny personalities should have sunny colors.

Wait, never had sushi? What a shame. He even looks a touch sad at that. What a shame.

"Rice and fish, or sometimes rice and vegetables. Usually raw. It's a common food in Wutai, on my world. More of a delicacy in the city where I lived. But yes, much better without children. Of course one has to have the tongue for not only the flavors but the texture."

He laughs at that, eyes narrowing as he looks a bit away, imagining just that. "I suppose it would work, right until the upward momentum started slamming you into branches. Might be a bit rough then," he says, smirking though at the mental image he has of it though. "Might stick with just having the weapons I'm used to. Most of them, at any rate."

There was a time when Jacob slept like that. Trusting in the train car, and in his sister and their safety. That was all before this place though. He shrugs though at the question. "My sister was settling into a place down the lane," he says, gesturing vaguely. "I go there sometimes but she's yet to come back," he says, shrugging as if it's nothing.

"I could teach you," he offers in cajoling tones. "I promise not to let you fall."

Even as he offers though, he moves up another branch, one that juts out to one side towards her a bit. Pushing himself to his feet above the branch, he walks out as far as he might until the branch begins to bow and dip.

"Aren't those wonderful skills though. Beauty and deadly, aren't you just the charmer? I suppose, for such things, I could come back down to the ground level. Do be a dear and don't move?"

Even as he asks it, he bends his knees, leaping up into the air and taking a true swan dive to the ground. This time his leap of faith will not have hay waiting for him as it always does, but this place seems to have provided something else entirely so that when he tucks and flips, coming down to land on one bended knee and the other leg out to the side for balance. One hand comes down onto the ground in front of him, the ground giving away to the toughened skin he'd kept faith in as he had before, only this time without hay and much more of a superhero landing.

"'Sometimes'," she repeats, with just the slightest questioning edge. That vague gesture, that shrug, it's all recognisably evasive. "So what about the times when you're not there?"

The Swede is always polite and friendly, but there's also something about the straightforward pragmatism of a medic that means she asks these tough-love questions, too, prying to make sure someone's okay. And Jacob's exhausted frayed edges, this dozing-off in a public space, it makes her worry.

But then, a moment later, Brigitte suddenly thinks of another plausible explanation and she blushes a furious beet-red, mortified. "Oh, my god, unless you're staying with someone-- sorry, I didn't mean to, that's not what I--"

(She's kicking herself. Ugghhhh!!)

"That would be delightful if we could manage it," he says, lighting up at the thought. "I will start looking about at ideas of fabric in this place. I was lucky enough to receive one box," he admits, his hand touching his waistcoat. "We'll see what we can manage. I've patched my clothes over the years but never sewn them myself."

"Raw fish? People eat raw fish?" His nose wrinkles, head cocking slightly as he considers that and what it means. "Huh. I admit, that's new, though I know others have talked of foods I might never have tried," he admits. "I wonder what the fishes here would be like."

Not that he's sure he's up for eating them raw, but he wonders. He has this chance, and why not take advantage of what he can?

"I have a bit of experience with it, usually not traditional cloth, but I've made things before. My parents were farmers and my mother made a lot by hand. I still retain some skill, though I would not be as talented as others here," Reeve says. Still, his sense of humor is special kind of it, and he would be pleased to give the man something he enjoyed while still annoying other people for their lack of taste.

"It's an art, sushi, one I cannot replicate. But there are other versions that don't use fish. I might be able to come up with something to amuse you. I mean, just because I speak the language doesn't mean I can make the food."

And Wutaian had been a very hard language to learn. Different sort of alphabet, grammar structure, pronunciations. All interesting. Of course it occurred to him that Midgarian was hard in its own ways.

"Have you tried going out with those who fish?"

About to answer just as she has another thought, and Jacob chuckles at her reaction more than the words as he shakes his head, not even meeting her gaze though at that moment. "No, no. That is truly the furthest thing from an issue at the moment," he says, shifting in his seat, trying to dismiss the tightness in his chest then. "Though, if I'm honest, I've never quite been the type of gentleman that people ask to stay the night," he says, having considered that many a time since recent events. Good enough to dally with, but certainly nothing more.

Shaking his head, he gives a wave of his hand, more dismissing it for himself than anything else. "As I said, nothing like that. Mostly..." He rolls his eyes up, glancing at the ceiling. "I'm more comfortable higher up, especially without Evie here. Let's me keep an eye on things, being ready in case."

"Maybe I'll take you up on that," she flirts back, chuckling. Hawke is very deadly; while she's spoken of her fights to people, she's still often underestimated back home. It's helpful, when going up against arrogant mercenaries, but she knows that Jacob sees right through the obvious with people. "Don't break anything, I might know first aid, but it'll definitely spoil the mood." Hawke stays still though, as requested.

She waits and watches, and she may ordinarily be concerned that he's leaping off like that, but he wouldn't do it without a plan. So she sees the full thing and grins, clapping her hands in open appreciation. "Bravo, bravo!" She knows everyone has powers here, and it's still a delight to watch. Magic and powers of course are not unusual for her, but it means something a little extra now that she has some of her own. Like they're part of a club together now, instead of admiring from a distance. She hasn't seen all the powers on display yet.

"Someone's figured out their skills, mmm?" She can't tell if he's stumbled into it, or has been out here specifically training. Hawke peeks at his color; green, ah. She moves over to him and puts out a hand with a smile. "Give me a little of your energy and I'll show you mine."

"They just kick you out of bed? Well, that's rude." Though it's half-meant to be a joke, Brigitte exhales a small breath -- so she hadn't shoved her foot squarely into her mouth, thank god -- but Jacob still seems tense, hesitant. As if there's something he's tiptoeing around. Probably something to do with that blip in his voice when he says his sister's name.

Unfortunately for him, she's a bit like a terrier with a bone sometimes.

"Literally higher up? Like... tall buildings?" she asks quizzically. Her modern world has skyscrapers, megatall buildings; she's not exactly a city girl, but if she was, she could picture herself being unnerved by the small scale of this village. "This place is pretty, um, rustic. So I can see that."

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 3

A Shadow from the Darkness

post-event, by the inn fire

By the Inn Fire

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Woods

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject