THE JARS THAT BLEED BEFORE THEY BREAK.

[glassjar]

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.

Comments

[spacecaser]

[His breath gutters out when she touches the back of his hand. It isn't entirely enough to calm him, but he does lower his tone.

But you don't.

No, he doesn't.

Thomas also doesn't reply, setting his jaw. He feels like he really needs a smoke, now. Or a hard drink. Or another session to burn off his powers, which he might just do after he confronts Morgan about this fiasco back at the house.

He curses again, this time in French, as he places the little sprig inside his jacket pocket. Yes, even despite his frustrations, he is still bringing back what was required of him.]

...Thank you, but I will be fine. [What sort of sorry thief can't make his own exit from a nighttime rooftop? None that he would rub shoulders with.] I am sorry that the night had to end in this way. A ruin to your own evening.

[He knows she has to get back, to play dumb and definitely not complicit.]

[gembonds]

Thomas.

[She says his name again quietly and reaches up with one hand to graze his cheek with her fingertips and to look into his eyes. Her own tells him that she isn't bothered by a ruined evening. It implores him, asks him without saying aloud, "Are you okay? Will you really be fine? I want you to be."

But as to not be completely silent, she says with the reassurance of someone who can only have lived as long as her.]

I'll be seeing you again.

[spacecaser]

[Were he able to read that look in her eyes--and likely, he can--he'd not know how to answer. Right now, he is harried, and angry, and feels a fool. But later? Later he will be okay. Some baseline of "okay", at least, and life will drag on, day by day as it always does.

He tilts his head into her touch. But only for a moment. And that moment is gone in a whisper.]

Shall I be cliche and wish you au revior? [A beat, a strained pull of a corner of his lip.] Goodnight.

[And with that, he lingers for but a moment more, before he's turning to hop off the edge of the roof, eerie-quiet, and not to be seen for the rest of the night.]