sixthiterationlogs | racing through canyons of angels ♙ closed

Entry tags:

racing through canyons of angels ♙ closed

WHO: Jess Brightwell.
WHERE: The inn, then into the wild unknown.
WHEN: Aug. 9th.
OPEN TO: Raven Reyes.
WARNINGS: Children at play?
STATUS: Closed.

The morning was lightening into butter-yellow sunrise when Jess started getting ready to head out into the canyon.

Water, a makeshift knife, and an extra pair of socks went into his pack along with his other gear. Every couple of days now he'd taken his bag with a day's worth of supplies and picked a direction, hiking as deep into the canyon as time and circumstances allowed.

Towering rock walls in every direction made an excellent place to disappear a town, Jess scathingly had to admit, and the rough terrain and thick foliage in the forested areas didn't make it easy to scout. More than once these two weeks past, he'd been willing to trade an arm if it'd get him a proper knife to clear the way. But setbacks or no setbacks, someone had brought them here, and someone was providing them supply boxes. Jess had every intention of finding them, or barring that, a road out of this bloody primeval village.

And he knew he wasn't the only one who felt that way.

Before stopping by the storeroom to grab the rations he'd need, Jess' first stop was Raven's room. "You ready to go?" he asked, rapping on her door.

She wasn't a friend he'd trust at his back like Glain, but she was just as hungry for answers. Shared interests made them allies in this, at least.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Jess had already broken the canyon into grids with a plan to search each of them. The maps arranged on the inn's ground floor were built on a similar system, and it was a perfectly fine one in and of itself, but Jess had been taught to rely on himself. For that reason, he had his own internal map he intended to follow, tweaked slightly to suit him and what he suspected of their captors' surveillance habits.

With his route held in his mind's eye, he arrowed in the direction of the river where they could then follow it to the southeast. The southeastern quadrant was still one he wanted to comb more thoroughly. "If you count this, it's my first time," he said, watching her walk backward alongside him. If her heel caught on a rock like that, he wasn't going to feel bad if she fell.

"Have you been to prison?" Temperament aside, he didn't completely buy her as a hardened inmate.

"In a way," she shrugged her shoulder, and turned on her heel to walk with her back to him. She figured he was heading toward the river. It's where she'd choose to begin, if she was the one who'd paved a path for them to travel along. Raven, much like a bird, just flew north or south, and waited until she hit the end of the earth before she swung on her wings and flew back in the direction she'd came.

In a way, Raven would be in prison. Repairing a hundred year old pod behind the Council's back and plummeting down to Earth, along with her being the reason the Ark had lost a good chunk of air, she should be in jail. Worse, she should be floated.

Raven suspected she'd broken free of her own prison with her left leg moving as easily as her right, but she didn't so much as wish to allude to it.

Keeping slightly in step with him, she purposefully made sure she was just a little ahead. It was her attempt to bait him, as well as avoid him scrutinising her expression, if he so much as chose to try and study it. "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not a jailbird."

Her answer didn't invite more questions, and so Jess didn't try. In a way could mean a lot of things, just as his had been honest and yet not entirely the truth.

She was in the mood to push ahead and establish a place at the head of the pack--that was apparent from her effort to outpace him. The dirt road outside of the inn led to a four-way intersection, and he selected the one that would take them toward the boathouse, not minding her insistence in taking the lead. The walk was easy now, but then they hit the harder terrain neither of them would have the energy to spare on showing off.

"Why would that be disappointing?" he asked, humoring the thought. He'd spent his life around criminals, was one himself, but he wouldn't say he found them more stimulating company than someone who hadn't seen the inside of a cell.

Despite her purposefully long strides, Raven evened them out. She knew she worked herself too hard. Staying up too late, not getting enough sleep, keeping her mind busy when it needed to rest so it could remain sharp — it's a lesson she'd been poor at learning on the ground with Finn at her back, and it was one she struggled with even now, with another boy at her back who cared very little as to whether or not she burned herself out.

It wasn't as though she didn't know where they were headed — she didn't, not really — but out of a desire to not be worried about her back. Jess might be a pain in the ass most of the time, but he was one of the very few familiar faces in the town.

She didn't quite trust him. But she didn't not trust him, either.

Falling into step beside him, she kept her gaze straight ahead when she shrugged her shoulders. "Because I'm otherwise a boring person?" She looked to him, lips quirked up slightly, brow arched. "It'd make reasoning why we're here easier. We're all criminals. It's been an excuse used before."

"You have a funny way of judging people." He lifted one corner of his mouth back at her, amused at the scale she was using to decide interesting character features. That was certainly one way to look at juvenile delinquency. "I'd say falling out of space and ending up climbing out of a fountain is pretty interesting."

We're all criminals. Ah, but there was a theory he had to be careful around.

Jess had to admit, he was in the same sort of middle ground regarding his feelings toward the others in town--he didn't have concrete reasons not to trust them, but that didn't mean he did. Trust was a luxury he couldn't afford, and his history wasn't something to be shared lightly. It had been too dangerous at home. Dangerous for him, and for those involved with him.

"Does everyone really come off as the same caliber of criminal to you? I could see some petty theft for Veronica like palming a lipstick or two, but that's about it. If greens are misdemeanors, what would the greys be charged with?"

She doesn't quite know what he's talking about with Veronica, but she can easily adapt what he's implying to something she's familiar with. Hadn't Murphy told her about his dad stealing medicine for his sick son? It was enough to tug at her heartstrings, but not enough to blind her to the raging pain slowly seeping her of her life John Murphy was responsible for.

"Greys are the badasses," she declares, and there's a slight smugness to it, tilting her chin up to accompany it. The greys have to be the badasses, if she's to be in their group.

"We're here for a reason, and it's not because Veronica likes to put … lipstick on or whatever." She waves her hand dismissively, wanting to sweep that particular into the dirt. She's wondering if pretending to know what he's talking about may help her assimilate into the comfortable shoes he wears, but she doesn't think it'll work. He'll always pick up on something, because she'll always let him catch her confusion.

"You and I both know what it's like to live in a world where someone's always got the upper hand. Maybe that's what the greys are." It's after a beat, and her voice is slightly softer when she says, "Survivors."

Badasses, huh? His smile bloomed a little wider. He played his confidence in his own abilities closer to his chest like he did the rest of his cards, a shade subtler but no less there. "I could live with that."

As for the common thread between them, he'd agree this wasn't a conventional prison for conventional crooks. He wouldn't put it past the Artifex to throw him to the wolves, but the purpose of the town had to be more than that, or he'd have Wolfe and Santi beside him, and likely Glain, Khalila, and Dario, too. Not a bunch of strangers whose first reactions to the word 'Artifex' was usually an uncomprehending blink.

His gaze cut to Raven as her playful boasting gave way to a more frank observation. And an apt one, where he was concerned. It made him curious how she defined survival where she was from. "Is that how it was for you?" Anit had said something similar once, that she and Jess were two of a kind, a product of the same dark places; after time spent with her, Jess thought she was right, and not merely because of their shared upbringing in the book trade. She knew loss like he did, and she'd endured it without the luxury of a grave to lay flowers on as he had.

Raven, he was less sure about. He had little context to place the bits and pieces she'd revealed about her life before now.

Raven didn't look at him.

The topic of home wasn't one she liked to shy away from, but after discerning not too many people understood what she was hinting at when she spoke, she chose to keep those particular cards to her chest. As someone who liked to boast and puff out her chest, Raven was taking her survival more seriously than she ever had before.

How did they end up where they currently were? Telling the Grounders everything had weakened them. Much like a generator lacking a panel over its most crucial organs, Raven's made it a point to never follow in Clarke Griffin's footsteps and wear her heart and intentions on her sleeve.

"It's how it's always been," she said, keeping her eyes on the environment around them. She wasn't trying to memorise it. A tree was a tree, a rock was a rock, and a riverbed was a riverbed. She was looking out for what was in those trees, holding or hiding behind those large rocks, and if anyone happened to be swimming in any pools of water.

"You wake up every day not knowing you'll see the next. It's not a way to live," she shrugged, "but it's something."

He adjusted his bag strap on his shoulder. She wasn't jumping to offer details on her life back home, and he wasn't about to push for them. In every place, human nature dictated that someone had power, and others didn't. Mostly likely, those others suffered for it.

Jess didn't need details to understand the sentiment.

"Staying alive is good enough sometimes. You can't do anything if you're dead."

That was when Jess heard it--rushing water. Not the sound of the same lapping river he'd walked along just the other day, but louder. Nearing a roar. The current definitely hadn't sounded that powerful yesterday.

As the river revealed itself in the distance, he could see that his ears were telling him the truth. The water was rushing past, flecked with white tips, spilling over the embankment again just as it had when it had flooded few days ago. No one would be swimming today. Not if they wanted to avoid getting swept away to kingdom come.

"It's flooding again? It was fine yesterday," he said, unconsciously drawing his brows together in a frown. They were in the middle of a canyon. He didn't like this irregular flooding given their low elevation.

With camp set up away from any grand lakes or rivers, Raven hadn't grown used to the differing sounds of running water. The two camps she's lived in have been set aside from any water, a good walk away from being able to hear the rush of them.

Raven slowed to a stop. She looked in the distance, her expression studious as she tried to see if she could glean an answer to Jess' question. For the girl who understood how almost anything worked in camp, she couldn't quite find a reason for this.

"Did it rain earlier?" She glanced down at the ground and found her boots didn't squish against any mud.

Jess picked up his pace, winding his way down toward the riverbank. What was left of the riverbank. A large portion of it was underwater, saturating the grassy bank.

Crossing the bridge was no longer the easy task he'd been imagining; the top of the rapids licked at the edge of the walkway, the boards probably slick with water. "Not here. It could've rained further upriver, I suppose." Having been so far unsuccessful in seeing what lay beyond the canyon, it was strange to think that heavy rains were one of the few pieces of evidence that a world existed outside of their enclosed bubble.

"I guess we should count our blessings the plumbing wasn't backing up this morning." He sounded doubtful.

Raven shoved Jess lightly. "Jinx," she said, rolling her eyes. It would be a problem she'd have to fix, unless there was someone who understood breaking and fixing plumbing already positioned at the inn.

Looking out toward where the river was, the sound was loud and unfamiliar to her. She had been bed bound, kept within a perimetre where people could observe her and rush to her rescue if she so happened to fall. Despite being out in the open for a few months, there was still so much of the world Raven had yet to see.

"Maybe we should follow it," she said. "The river has to start somewhere. Maybe we'll find something." Or maybe they wouldn't. But the river was safe to follow, wasn't it? Embedded deeply into the ground, it'd lead them to wherever it was she wanted to go, and it'd bring them back home. It was better than trying to memorise the shape of a tree that had a thousand twins in the woods.

He blinked at the shove, picking up on her meaning a second after. Guess he shouldn't tempt fate, should he? "Slip of the tongue. Maybe our first order of business should be for you to eye on me for the next little while in case I step into some poison ivy. I hope you know what it looks like so you can warn me."

Jess preferred to hope that the inn's plumbing not backing up was a sign of good luck, and it wouldn't end up being one of those days they'd come to regret. He already distrusted the wilderness and any manner of trouble they could find there--too many places for someone to hide. Too many opportunities for something to happen.

Already nodding, he gestured to the south, in the direction of the raging current. "The river empties out to the southeast. I've been up north a few times, didn't turn up much. I'm thinking let's flip the switch and try the opposite." Though now Jess was starting to wonder about his plan to use the bridge to cross to the other embankment.

On approach, it didn't look in danger of breaking up and floating away just yet, which was a positive sign. Slick but still solid. He gave Raven a questioning look that asked what his mouth didn't. Was she up for a river crossing?

Birds flew south for the winter.

Supposedly.

Winter was coming back home, and she wondered if this was a sign that something much cooler was to come their way. Or perhaps she was thinking a little too hard on a metaphor she didn't so much as make a sound about. She guessed he'd take it and run with it, and thus introduce the poison ivy she knew the look of. She'd made sure Monty taught her what berries to eat and what plants to never push Finn into.

She noticed his look, and glanced toward the bridge that didn't make her feel very confident. It didn't surprise her the one way to get to their chosen destination was to walk on something so flimsy it didn't inspire much trust.

She looked at him, arching her brow. "Do you want me to hold your hand?"

For the girl who couldn't swim, she didn't care about walking along a bridge that could see her falling into the water that had almost pulled her to the fountain's floor. A part of her wanted to find another way, but Raven Reyes had never let anything stop her.

She'd destroyed a bridge not even the bombs could touch. She could handle a stupid wooden one.

Trust Raven to shrug off an easy out. He'd meant the offer as a friendly gesture, knowing better than to judge someone's abilities on appearance, but he was starting to get the impression she wasn't one to accept the easy way out or the comfortable path.

That was fine by him; he had no doubt about taking the bridge. (All right, not a lot of doubt. Not enough to stop him.)

Plainly intending it as a joke, Jess held his hand out as answer, not for one second believing she'd actually take it. "Was it that obvious? I'm trembling in my boots."

"The poor nerd," she answered dry before slapping her hand into his and wrapping her fingers around it. She tugged him along, and not too gently, either.

It was a bluff if she ever saw one. Raven never was one to turn down a challenge, even if it was in the shape of someone joking with her. She always had to prove herself, and sometimes Raven found she had to show herself to not be a stuck-up mechanic who was as stiff as the metal she worked with.

She might have reservations about the bridge, but she knew she'd survive it. She'd gotten through much worse than a wooden, flimsy walkway.

"You can hold onto me if you're so scared. I'll only judge you just a little."

"Your philanthropy is noted."

It wasn't easy to surprise him, but here he was, continually being surprised by the situations he found himself in in this town. Raven, instead of pushing ahead as he'd expected of her, took his hand. More like grabbed his hand and then began dragging him along like a child too scared to cross the road by himself. He kept his fingers loose, not quite holding on and not quite pulling away. You made your bed, Brightwell, lie in it.

If anyone was watching them right now, they were going to lay eyes on an odd and completely misleading sight: the two of them clutching hands as intimate friends or couples do. Except the one person whose hand Jess wanted to hold was as far out of his reach, just like Raven's Ark, sitting high in space.

"You've done this before." Tease travelling companions? Hold the hands of men she didn't know? She could take her pick which he was implying. Even with one hand now at Raven's mercy, Jess closed the distance to the bridge and stepped up onto it like it were a stable concrete slab and not an arrangement of groaning, wet wood that was who knew how old.

"I've held a boy's hand before."

She's held plenty of hands since landing on the ground. From the guys who found themselves a little too weak or a little too injured from a Grounder attack, Raven had taken it upon herself to play the bedside nurse. It meant she could learn how to protect herself, even heal herself when Clarke Griffin wasn't around.

Good thing she paid attention when she had the chance. There'd come a time where Clarke griffin wasn't around.

She pulled him along, but her strength on his grip took mercy on the possibility his delicate fingers might end up bruised. She didn't let go, though. She didn't think on it, but she hadn't exactly been forthcoming over the last three months in letting anyone touch her, or touching anyone in return.

Looking over her shoulder at him, eyebrow arched, she continued, "And I've walked across a scary bridge before. Can't say I held a boy's hand while doing that, though. This a first."

"Family members and arm wrestling don't count, in case you were wondering." It was hard to picture Raven giving someone the time of day in a softer, romantic way. She was like Glain. Independent, unattached, her hands made for fists, not for hand-holding.

Jess focused on keeping traction on the wet surface. The water was a seething cauldron underneath them, and he had to raise his voice somewhat to be heard over the roar of the spray. He wondered how many more floods like this the bridge could take before it finally gave way, and then decided he didn't want to think about that. Not while walking across the middle of it.

He curled his fingers around Raven's wrist. If she went down, he damn sure wasn't getting pulled off guard because they'd taken a game of chicken too far.

"You'd make my first bridge buddy, too. Lucky us." First time for everything.

The type of arm wrestling Raven did with her mother wouldn't be the type Jess was thinking of. What she'd challenged Finn to on numerous occasions might have fallen more into line with his joke. But Raven brushed it off, not allowing the acid that often accompanied her mother's memory to overwhelm her.

She'd look over her shoulder at him as they walked across the bridge, but she kept her eyes on her feet. Her leg might have felt steady and full, but she didn't trust it. When it came to crossing a bridge held slightly out of reach of the rushing water below, she didn't trust anyone but her eyes and ears and her focus to keep her safe and sound as she lead them across it.

"So you've held a boy's hand before?" She smiled to herself, knowing she was being purposefully annoying. Jess seemed to make it easy for her to do so. She projected her voice, "Cute."

And her footsteps did slow down, strides becoming smaller, as Raven wasn't too sure of herself along his bridge.

"I can't help it if people seem to want to." Like Raven, case in point.

But Jess was getting antsy to push on and the banter fell a little flat. Just as he got it into his head to speed up, giving into eagerness to be off the bridge and properly on their way, he felt more than saw Raven slow. With her positioned slightly ahead and to the right of him, he couldn't go any faster unless he wanted to shove her aside and potentially cause her to fall.

In response, he slowed, too, letting her have his hand and arm for support. "Almost there."

"Should've bombed this damn bridge," she muttered. How was it a shitty bridge like this one could survive the rough current of water, but other bridges that were built of sturdier stuff fell victim to a couple of bombs?

Raven didn't speed up, despite telling herself to. She wasn't afraid of heights, but she was of water, whether she wanted to admit it to herself or not. Moving faster might get her to the other side and onto solid ground all the more quickly, or it might see her tumble into the water before Jess could even get his swimmer's trunks on.

Steeling her shoulders, she kept moving, and her strides became uneven. Some short, some long; she wanted to get off the bridge, and by the time she reached the end, she wasn't so sure if the solid ground was wobbling beneath her.

What she did wonder was whether or not Jess had a hand left after how tightly she had been gripping it.

Her reply, if she gave one, was too quiet; the river drowned it out, cocooning them in white noise. But Raven's body language was more than enough to go by and said more than her words did--she was inching along stiffly, obviously unsure of her footing. It made him suddenly glad she'd called his bluff, because now he was able to steady her.

Maybe she actually had wanted to hold onto him for this reason. Even if that were true he didn't think she'd admit it.

Her grip was vice-like, and only grew tighter as they creeped onward past the halfway point. He didn't complain. She was a survivor, she'd said so herself, but he knew she couldn't swim and might not have any physical training under her belt. It would be stranger if she wasn't cautious about keeping a balancing act on this bloody deathtrap.

Planks finally gave way to the squelching mud of the shore, and they stepped off onto the opposite bank no worse for wear. "Made it one piece. That wasn't so bad," he announced blithely. It was a chance for Raven to agree--

And to realize she was still clutching his hand.

Jess didn't need his hand, did he? It wasn't like he was a contributing member to this creepy town.

Three months she spent coming to terms with the fact she was crippled. It'd been a hard and tumultuous journey, one that she hadn't quite finished exploring when she'd come to at the bottom of the fountain. Despite being given back the functionality of her leg, the people in charge of the town hadn't so much as thought to rectify the way she thought.

On a bridge as slippery and weak as the one they'd been walking along, Raven didn't feel invincible. She felt as frightened as she had in the pod she'd built, in front of Lexa's blade, lying on the makeshift cot inside the skeleton of the Ark with Abby Griffin looking at her as though she didn't quite know how to inform her the whole world had dropped around her.

When she flexed her fingers, she realised she was still holding Jess' hand. Rather than smoothly dropping it, she let go abruptly, and rolled her eyes at nothing at all. "We should find another way back just in case that bridge doesn't survive."

As Raven often did, she made to move without so much as asking him if he was all in one piece. Something told me he was, minus a hand.

If nothing else, Raven would have no problems strangling their captors to death should she ever get her hands around their necks.

"That's another bridge we can cross when we get to it. You said it yourself--greys are the badasses. Finding a way across a river is no sweat if it should float away by the time we get back," he said, doing her the courtesy of not commenting on the crack the last leg of the bridge had revealed in her self-assured demeanor.

No matter how good of a mask she put on, Jess couldn't forget that she was new. New to this town, new to a lot of things. Concerns over crossing the river made sense in her case. If he couldn't swim, he'd be afraid of falling in and drowning, too.

As they turned to follow the shoreline, finally on their way, he said, "I've been meaning to ask: where were you living before this? I don't mean Arkadia, but where in the world? Have you seen these kinds of forests before?"

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

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject