sixthiterationlogs | 001 ♠ riding through this world all alone

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001 ♠ riding through this world all alone

WHO: Jax Teller
WHERE: fountain; village
WHEN: 1 February
OPEN TO: All
WARNINGS: language
STATUS: open

I. THE CROW FLIES STRAIGHT

Water. Everything is fucking water from the top of his head to the bottom of his shoes and when Jax breathes in, he takes in a huge fucking lungful of it. It's burning like fire and he has no idea how he's drowning. He's known how to swim since he could walk, just about, so he pushes off against the bottom of the pool and claws his way up.

When his head breaks free of the water he realizes it's not the ocean or a swimming pool but a goddamn fountain. He half expects fairies or some shit pouring water but it's just a regular fountain, bubbling as if a full grown man hadn't just burst his way up from the bottom. Jax places his palms at the lip of it and pushes himself up and out, collapsing against the ground.

Wherever he is, its cold enough that he doesn't want to be outside in wet clothes and he lays there for just a few minutes, trying to catch his breath. He needs a cigarette. He needs a whole goddamn carton of cigarettes, at this juncture, and he has a sinking suspicion that no cigarettes will be to hand. There's a backpack or something strapped to his back and after laying on it for a few minutes he rolls over to his side and works it off; it's got a change of clothes in it, at least.

"Well I'll be damned," he says, pulling out the clothes to examine them. "Scrubs. Must be prison again." Doesn't explain the fountain, which wasn't at Stockton the last time he did time, but maybe he's gotten some kind of rec privileges and had a fight.

"Where the fuck am I?"

II. A PERFECT LINE

It takes him a little while to get his bearings but once he does, he sets out in search of civilization. He's got to figure out where the fuck he is and how to get out but, in the meantime, he needs a shower and a change of clothes. He's got the second part of it handled thanks to the pack he came in with but the first part is going to take a little more doing.

Wandering out of the park with the fountain, he finds a road and starts to follow it. Road has to lead to somewhere, right? Sure as he picks a direction and sticks with it, he comes up on several buildings. One of them looks like a police station, based on the shape and size of it, and he thinks there's some fucking goats or something in there making noise. Probably not the best idea to duck his head in there. No idea where he is but there's almost always some kind of outstanding warrant on his head these days thanks to feuding with the sheriff's office and the Niners so he's steering clear.

The next building he comes up on is a little busier, people coming in and out, and Jax runs a hand through his damp hair and strides up to the porch with the intention of getting some fucking information. Someone has to know more than "village that nobody knows the name of or how to leave," and he intends on shaking down whoever he needs to shake down to be able to get directions out of here. He's carless and bikeless, sure, but he can hitch if he needs to. It wouldn't be the first time.

He gets distracted when a woman walks past him and he tips his head, watching her ass as she walks by. The scrubs do nothing for anyone, it's true, but he likes to admire beauty where he can.

III. GOTTA RAISE SOME HELL

So after figuring out that there's really no way out of here and no matter how many pointed questions or threats he offers in exchange for information he's not getting anything out of the people here because they don't know anything, Jax decides he's going to go outside the inn and blow off some steam. He doesn't anticipate that there's a goddamn chicken coop out there, though, and he has no experience with chickens or farms or any of that domestic shit.

What is he, a fucking hippie? No.

Still, the chickens seem to be curious and one draws up close. He guesses it's the kind of thing his kids might want to see at the zoo or something, if he did stuff like that with his kids, and Jax reaches a hand out to pet one of them. He gets a peck between finger and thumb in response and jerks away. Still, the ground is soft and wet from what feels like a whole lot of rain (or snowmelt, maybe, but he has no idea if it snows in this fucking town or not) and he slides, feet going out from under him.

He lands, of course, in a whole bunch of chicken shit and the chicken looks pleased with herself. He's covered in mud, chicken shit and feathers and now the other chickens are clucking at him too. What is this, a goddamn chicken riot?

"I'm going to eat one of you fuckers if you don't stop," he curses, mostly under his breath. He thinks he probably shouldn't murder someone's pets even if they're stupid pets and he works on pushing himself to his feet. He's going to need another shower - probably ten showers to get all this off him and he hopes like hell that nobody saw that shit.

He stares at the chicken and moves his fingers from his eyes to point at it, issuing a threat. "You and me. I'm gonna get you back for this."

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"Don't see why not. You'd just need to find someone who can do the art, really, and then you can just hammer needles into your skin or find someone with a scratcher machine. I've gotten tats like that before. Hurts like hell but, again, that's kind of the point."

He gives her a look, curious. "How do they do tattoos on your island?"

"I can draw it." She wasn't a great artist but she knew how to draw a few animals in the style of her people. When she was younger her favorite thing to draw had been boats. "I'm really okay with it hurting. I've seen it done before." Some guys, even the strong ones on her island, couldn't take the pain.

"We use a specific reed and ink. It dots beneath the skin and you tap it against a rock so it always goes the same depth." It was something she could make here, if someone would be willing to figure out how to use it.

"What's a scratcher machine?"

"Has a motor in it with the needles so you don't have to tap," Jax explains. "The way you do it, though? That's legit. That's more than I've dealt with," he says.

He's pretty impressed she'd do it old school like that but maybe her island likes to do shit all traditional. He can get behind that. Tradition is a good thing.

Moana was open to the things she didn't know but she liked the familiarity of the things from her island. It was why she'd been interested in Jax's tattoo's. She'd draw similarities and cling to them to make the world around her easier to understand.

"What do you mean more?" She was a bit confused. "I don't know what a motor is but we don't have that on my island." Or electricity.

"More pain. It doesn't hurt as much the way we get tattoos," Jax explains. "You have a whole bunch of needles running real fast with a motor, it moves them faster than a person's hand could do it. You don't feel them pricking you as much as you do if it's just tapping. That's going to hurt a hell of a lot more than the tattoos I have."

If that's how they do it on her island and she's planning to go through it too? Jax has a hell of a lot of respect for the girl.

What she'd learned from her island was Moana's only experiance with tattoo's. It might take time to figure out how to do it here but she thought she could. Pain was something that you got used to when you spent your whole life running around barefoot. It'd hurt but she'd be fine when it was all done.

"My grandmothers tattoo spanned her whole back." She spoke absently, as if falling into her memories. After a moment she shook her head. "When I find what I'll be reincarnated as... then I'll worry about it." Her dark eyes glanced over to Jax and then down at her work. She's stopped stripping the stalks due to their conversation.

"I'll find a way." She declared before flashing him a bit of a smile. "When I do, would you help?"

"Hell yeah, I'll help. If we can figure out how to get the materials we need to get it done and what you want to do, I'll be happy to help you get it."

It's pretty badass that her tribe does tattoos like that and he thinks it's a lot more badass than a bunch of bikers getting inked up just for fun. It means something to her.

"Good." She didn't know if she would but she was happy that she had someone she could ask. "You know, when I was younger my mother would call me her little minnow. Maybe my spirit animal is a minnow."

Moana had an idea that might happen but she wasn't sure. So she knew that it wasn't time yet. "For now, I should probably finish this net." It was why she'd gathered all the stalks.

"Net's probably going to end up useful for something. You mind showing me how you make them? I tend to pick up on stuff pretty easily," Jax says. He thinks it might be for the best, if he starts learning how to do a few things around here.

Gives him something worth trading, if push comes to shove, and he doesn't want to be left wanting.

Moana nodded her head and pushed over a few of the stalks she had collected. She didn't know what they were called but they worked well for what she needed. "Here, first you have to husk it. Once you get the fibers out, I can show you how to weave it."

Out of the whole process, husking the stalks was the hardest. When Moana had first started she'd made her fingers blister and bleed.

Jax is used to cleaning guns and working on engines and both of those things are hard on the hands. Still, this is tough work and he curses under his breath a few times before he starts to get the hang of it.

"This shit is tough," he says, looking at Moana. She doesn't complain the way he does but, hey, maybe she's just used to it.

Moana kicked him lightly with the toe of her shoe when he curses. He should really watch his language, you never know who might be listening.

"I know. It takes some time to get used to it and I think it's harder the bigger your hands are." Her nail is able to run along the stalk and then slip beneath the casing and slowly peel it back. She imagined having larger hands would make this task more difficult.

"Damn, kid," Jax cries out. As curses go, it's mild, and he wonders if he's going to get another kick in the shin for that. He sincerely hopes not.

"I'm doing it right though, yeah?" He shows her what he's done so far, one whole stalk, and seeks her approval before moving on.

Moana kept the smile on her lips, looking completely innocent. She leaned forward and peered at his work.

"Yeah but I think you're making it harder than it has to be. You got all the fibers out though and it looks like they're in good shape." You couldn't use blades to get them out because it'd cut the very strands you wanted to use.

"Are you screwing with me or did I really do all right?" Jax asks. Normally, he doesn't put up with a lot of bullshit but this girl could basically be his kid sister and she amuses him. He's willing to put up with the bullshit for her.

"You think I might be able to actually make some rope out of this?"

Moana laughed and shook her head. "You actually did that part right." She leaned forward and took his stalk from him. Her thumb pressed against the threads fanning them out. "Yes. Since it's your first one you should tie a not in the end, then follow a twisting pattern like this."

She weaved very slowly with her fingers so he could see. It was like a braid but more complicated and definitely stronger. She didn't need to tie of the end to start it but being the first time that Jax was doing it, he'd find it more difficult. "When you get about-" She measured out six inches. "-this far from the end. You stop and thread in more fibers."

Jax nods and copies what she's doing. It's rough, because it's his first time, but he's always learned best by getting his hands on something and just doing it and he's not having as much trouble with this as he might have if he was learning from a book. Luckily Moana is a pretty good teacher.

"Think I'm going to be a rope-maker someday? Or do I need to look into another profession?"

Moana has taught people before, it was usually the children in her village but she found that the same patience and clarity was required no matter who you were teaching. She smiled at him as he worked. Moana felt a sense of pride as he slowly worked through it; he was getting the hang of it.

She laughed a him but just a little bit. "I think you'll do fine with enough practice. Once you master that I can teach you how to make a net though we'll need to collect more stalks."

"What do you use the nets for? Fishing, right? Or is it for hunting traps?" Jax doesn't know anything about this outdoor shit. Neither his dad nor Clay had ever taken him camping or anything as a kid and he's woefully unprepared for any of this survival life. Yet, here he is.

"Don't know much about it. I've always lived in a place where you could just buy food in stores."

"Fishing." Moana didn't really know how to hunt. There was no need on her island since they had life stock and fish. "I can show you how to make a spear if you want to hunt." She can also show him how to use a spear.

"I've been told about buying food. Everything on my island was done threw trading. We all worked together. I can't imagine carrying out anything to then buy food." It felt weird to her.

"Well, hunters and gatherers like you make a good living selling to useless people like me," Jax says, laughing a little. He knows how to kill a man. Maybe killing an animal isn't going to be that much different. Probably easier, really, and then it's for a good purpose.

"Yeah, teach me how to make a spear. I'll be a regular Boy Scout by the time you're done with me."

"If you're willing to learn I'm happy to teach you." He was at least honest with the fact that he couldn't do anything.

Moana kept her smile however there was one part of his phrasing that confused her. "What's a Boy Scout exactly and why is it just boys?" It sounded like a really weird phrase to her.

Edited 2017-03-22 16:17 (UTC)

"There's Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts," Jax explains. "Teaches you how to survive in the woods and shit. We don't do that anymore where I come from, so the stuff you do every day to just make your village run? It's not stuff we need to know. They take special classes and all that so they can learn it now."

Jax never had, since Gemma and Clay weren't going to take him to Scout meetings, but he'd thought maybe he'd take Abel and Thomas someday.

Moana listened but it still sounded very strange to her. "I can't imagine that." If she was being honest. "Most of these things are passed down from our ancestors. Even if we didn't need them... I think I'd still want to know. So it's good that people can learn anyway." At least she thought so.

"Did you not do that?"

"Not really. It's a lost art where I'm from. Maybe we ought to be a little more like you are," Jax says. She's got a hell of a lot more going for her in this place than he does, that's for damn sure. He knows how to steal, how to kill, how to fix a bike - none of that shit can help him here.

He's got to learn how to make rope and hunt and gather if he's going to be worth anything.

III. Here to protect the chickens

chosenbytheocean - 2017-03-29 01:30 (UTC) - Expand

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001 ♠ riding through this world all alone

Re: III. Here to protect the chickens

III. Here to protect the chickens

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III. Here to protect the chickens

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III. Here to protect the chickens

Re: III. Here to protect the chickens

III. Here to protect the chickens

Re: III. Here to protect the chickens

III. Here to protect the chickens

Re: III. Here to protect the chickens

III. Here to protect the chickens

Re: III. Here to protect the chickens

III. Here to protect the chickens

Re: III. Here to protect the chickens

III. Here to protect the chickens

Re: III. Here to protect the chickens

III. Here to protect the chickens

Re: III. Here to protect the chickens

III. Here to protect the chickens

Re: III. Here to protect the chickens

III. Here to protect the chickens

Re: III. Here to protect the chickens

III. Here to protect the chickens

Re: III. Here to protect the chickens

III. Here to protect the chickens