finalflight | THE JARS THAT BLEED BEFORE THEY BREAK.

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THE JARS THAT BLEED BEFORE THEY BREAK.

Congrats! You've somehow stumbled upon the pocket dimension where five people with questionable morals (some more questionable than others) live and operate. Are you here on business? Do you have an appointment? Or are you here to see a friend? (Come on, don't make us laugh.)

Maybe you're here on accident due to some multiversal, magical, or otherwise supernatural nonsense? It's happened before, it was bound to happen again.

You can wander towards the house, see if anyone's home. Or you can explore the lush grounds, and maybe run across the wolfman groundskeeper who might try to usher you out towards the nearest portal, anyway. The world is your oyster, just try to be a good guest.

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[His grin widens. She seems like a nice sort, and when he's like this, that's all that matters. He doesn't care for the details of how she got here. Not his circus, not his monkeys!]

Not my circus, not my monkeys! [He echoes his own thoughts.] I'm not in charge, so I'm not obligated to be offended just because someone invites themselves in.

[He spreads his hands and shrugs. Here in the light of her strange crystals, he can see pretty well, he belatedly realizes.]

As for the others, this is no longer a novelty to them. Every two or three nights, I put on this show -- if we do not have work for me to otherwise burn away my energy. So, to them, it is boring. "Rote", is the word.

And it's not so lonely. It's fun. Sometimes Lyra watches if she's out late. Maybe she is afraid I will stumble into her pond like a drunkard.

"Rote..." That's a strong word. I know it well, but on the other hand, I appreciate the little things in life.

[He's friendly enough then. Berna muses she must have caught him at a good time, especially after draining most of his energy. Not that she worried too much if it was wielded against her... But it felt unlikely. Mostly because Berna was certain of it and when she is, she sticks with it because it has failed her rarely.

Berna stands up from her seat, dusting off the skirt of her dress— she's quite tall, about 5'11.]

As long as you're enjoying yourself, that's what matters in the end. Though I hope by just being here, I changed things up a bit. Especially with the roses. I think those were a nice touch, personally.

[He still has a rose petal in his hair, smiling. Yes, Thomas is much more… affable when he’s burning off built-up energy, seeking that satisfactory thrill. But it works out. Makes this a much better first impression.

He stands, meanwhile, at 6’2”. But he doesn’t loom, really, and maybe he seems not as tall as he is when he slouches.]

You did. I love the roses. A very nice touch. You bring life to the “roteness”.

[He blinks.]

Where are my manners? My name is Thomas Durand. I am a part of… The Jars! [ ??? ] That is not a terrible band name, no.

[A huff of laughter.]

And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?

[Her smile grows wider when he speaks of what she did as "bringing life." She does like flattery. But truthfully, it feels nice, even after all these centuries to make someone happy with such a small thing.]

Thomas. My pleasure. As for The Jars, I've heard worse band names. As for myself...

[Her crystals flicker as she demurely clasps her hands in front of herself.]

Hm. Well. Now that I think about it, I'm surprised I've hung on to my name for so long.

[A very little-known fact is that she decided to keep her last name from the one man she allowed herself to have a child with. It was the least she could do for him. It was supposed to be temporary but in the end, she kept it because no one else would.

Still, she decides to keep it simple.]

You can call me Jackie. For now.

Hm? And how does one not hold onto a name?

[He isn’t sure he Gets It, but nuance and implication are lost on him like this. He would have to revisit that thought later.

For now, though—]

Jackie is a wonderful name. I love it, too. [He just oozes happy flattery.] But why are you here? Why did you invite yourself? Are you lost, Jackie-for-now? Are you looking to hire? I cannot give you rates, and the others are probably asleep. Maybe.

One can change names like they change clothes. But if, and only if they have the strength to do so.

[Witches, when they get to her age do get cryptic, annoyingly so, (again, a comment by her dear, but grumpy redheaded friend). Berna is totally convinced she's probably more straightforward than most.]

As for why I'm here? [She crosses her arms, exaggerating a thinking expression on her face.]

Oh, I'm not lost. I don't know this area all that well, but I can always go back where I cam from. And my reasons aren't all that exciting... I just like seeing new things, new people.

Is that so? Me, I have always been Thomas. Maybe you mean to say that I have been wearing the same dirty shirt for many, many, many years now.

[But he means it lightly, with humor behind each word. Like it's a joke of some kind.

At her reply, he tilts his head. The gesture makes him sway a little.]

You like seeing new things, new people, and you are magic of some kind. Are you sure? That this is the only reason. No one comes here unless they want something, and people want many things. All the time.

Magic of some kind... What a way to put it.

[It's an audible but amused murmur. Berna's nod is paired with a shrug which obscures her following answer more.]

I'm very sure.

[Her flowery speech switches over to something more casual, more modern even.]

I just wanted to walk in and see. You know, get a feel for the land, see what some of it's... Very few people are about. Maybe I ought to come a little earlier next time?

So you know, my wants? Pretty simple.

[Magic of some kind, yes. That is the best way he can describe it. Thomas is sensitive to the energies of this world, and though he cannot see directly into a person's soul the way Morgan can, there are other subtleties he can pick up on, almost innately.

So yes, magic. It rolls off of her in waves. And he finds it very, very lovely, if not utterly indescribable. He has no way of knowing what she is unless otherwise told, however.]

Mmm. [He seems to consider that, an exaggerated expression that would be faux if not for... how he is, right now.] Okay.

[Just "okay".]

I have been here the longest. More than any of them. [Is he proud of this? It's hard to tell.] If you have questions, or you want to go for a little walk, then I am your man.

Let's walk!

[As Jackie moves to stand next to Thomas, so do her crystals with her.]

Who knows if I'll come back again? Better now than ever.

[He offers her his arm, if she is so inclined.]

Let's. [He echoes breezily. Whether or not she takes it, he raises his other hand and a ball of energy twists and burns bright, hovering inches above. His eyes glow in that same burning color, the same aura.] You don't mind if I burn while we walk?

[What a sentence.]

[Berna accepts, looping her arm through Thomas's as if it's only natural he would do so for her. When his eyes light up she raises a brow but doesn't seem bothered otherwise.

Her words return to that odd elegance, soothing and sweet.]

Go ahead. I'll see t how I'll take to it.

And don't worry about burning me.

[What a nice, pretty woman. He likes her.]

Burn you? Oh, no. No, no. I have more... focus than that. More control.

[He twists his wrist, and the little ball of light burns furiously, but it does not flare. It may be nothing more than plasmic, roiling heat, but it's concentrated.]

It'll just stay here, above my hand. [He just wants to keep exerting energy, if he's not flinging it all up into the sky. This will take longer, but the company is probably worth it. Anyway, they start walking in the house's direction, but not necessarily straight towards it. When Thomas walks, it's a slow amble.] You have no reason to be worried. Though I notice you never seem worried at all. Do you like fire and heat?

[With graceful steps, Berna keeps up with his slow amble, appreciative of the pace. ]

I'm told I don't worry enough. I could and I do, but always in the moment? Hardly.

[Not that she isn't careful or thinks ahead. She's a witch who knows when something will work for her (until it doesn't).]

As for fire and heat... Well, with what I do, it is essential.

[She holds up a free hand to show off the delicate rings on her finger.]

Jewelry making, for instance.

I wish I could be like that. Always, I mean. To never worry... enough. That would be quite an existence to have.

[But his eyes are drawn, of course, to her rings. Shining in the glow.]

You made those yourself? They are beautiful.

It takes a while, believe me. To unburden yourself, to be like air... There are many shackles to release yourself from.

[Berna is quite an existence, unknowingly to him so far.

When he compliments her jewelry, she sets down her hand, smiling.]

Thank you. It's one of my art forms. My type of release.

[It sounds like something someone wise beyond their years would say. Thomas might be a lot older than even she would assume, but he doesn't have the kind of worldly experience Jackie seems to be radiating.]

Shackles stay on tightly, or else they wouldn't be called shackles, would they?

[But. Ah, well. Her jewelry though!]

You must have much practice. And what of these? [He shoots a glance at one of her crystals.]

Edited 2023-04-14 23:46 (UTC)

These things?

[The crystals have been hovering around them, humming with her magic. One is beckoned with an outstretched palm and it drops into her hand, glowing.]

Mm. A different kind of jewelry. Perhaps more practical.

[Doubles as quick weapons in a pinch too but luckily these days she hasn't had to be on the offensive. Not many would pick a fight with someone close in age to the Witch King (though he was still many times more powerful than she).]

Here. You can hold it. Tell me how it feels.

[Berna offers the crystal to him.]

[In his curiosity, almost childlike in this state, he banishes away his globe of burning energy. With it goes the light in his eyes, receding back into their normal brown.]

Oh? Practical jewelry.

[He remarks uselessly as she places it in his open palm. His fingers gently curl around the crystal.

How does it it feel? What would a man like him—sensitive to many things strange and arcane—sense?]

[It feels like her for a lack of a better description.

It's warm, alive, and pulses like it's a live heartbeat in Thomas's hand. If he looks long enough, it's a prism that contains multitudes of colors, and yet the surface is as clear as a mirror, enough so that his own face reflects back at him.

And maybe, just maybe any residual energy that Thomas may have, he can feel it rolling over the crystal's facets.

Berna watches him closely for his reaction (she's curious too; these people were different after all, how does the magic taste to them?)]

[It pulses, and yes, it feels alive. He turns it over in his hand, and it's as though his own bright, burning energy might slide over every plane of this strange crystal. How strange; what a colorful thing, prismatic if he brings it closer to his face. He can see the reflection of his own eyes in the shining surface.

Those same eyes flick over to her.]

It is... a part of you. In a way. No?

[There's a gleam in her eyes behind the dark color it sports. She confirms his question with a nod.]

You have strong senses.

[The remaining crystals in the air continue to light their path around them and Berna turns her gaze towards the night sky.]

It is magic, yes. My magic, my essence, and my arts. There is a saying about putting a part of yourself into your work. The personal touch. When I touch the earth, be it clay, stone, or metal, it's inevitable.

[He seems pleased and his grin widens.]

I am, in fact, the most sensitive one here!

[...in more ways than one. He rolls the crystal between his fingers, gently, feeling its warmth.]

So your magic... It is related to earthen things. Stone and soil and crystal. You build with it?

[Her jewelry, and he supposes, maybe other things. What better element to build from, than the earth itself?]

Less related to earthen things. More of a chosen focus. If I put my mind to it... Many things are possible.

[Witches are terrifying creatures when one really thinks about it. On their side of the woods, maybe it's a good thing there are very few of them that are on the level of magic that she and the Emerald Witch are on.]

A clear mind, a vision, total purpose... Only then will one's magic make an effect on the world around them.

[And she's had a long, long, time to get very good at it.]

What of you? What is your light? Must it burn away in the sky or around you as regularly as you say?

[That does sound terrifying if he did take the proper time to think about it. But again, given his state of mind, (the leftover thrill of using his powers, letting them burn out) he can only think of it as wonderful. So, so many opportunities. The whole world might change at her whim. What a power!]

"Total purpose". You make it sound so easy, Jackie.

[For him, he tries to avoid having a clear mind. He'd be terrible at magic, he thinks.]

My light? My light is my soul's power — the power of a star in the night sky. My soul is that of a star, you see, but instead? Fate is cruel, and has misplaced me in the wrong body. A too-small body.

[His turn to crane his neck up to the night sky.]

I belong up there. The others say that cannot be true, that stars do not have souls. But I feel it. How else can it be explained?

Edited 2023-04-15 01:56 (UTC)

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