abraxaslogs | 𝐿𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒 (open.)

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𝐿𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒 (open.)

Who: Jack Townsend & Others.
When: Post-Event.
Where: Thorne, the Horizon, Nocwich.
What: a catch-all for open & closed starters that take place after the event wrap-up.
Warnings: bigly angst, such dramatic, depression, themes of grief and loss, mental illness, possibly some violence.

𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑟𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑠𝑢𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑒𝑑
𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑
𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑠𝑜 𝑡𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑑, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑝
𝑆𝑡𝑢𝑐𝑘 𝑖𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒
𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒
𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒
𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒
𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑠𝑒?

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[ Kahlil flinches so slightly at Jerry's touch that it's barely noticeable. His expression remains unreadable, he doesn't bother arguing that they should stay. There's no point in trying to reason with Jack right now.

The door closes and he watches Jerry slump, frowning with a hint of sympathy. He scowls at the door, then gives a shrug. ]

He could hurt someone without meaning to. He knows that. [ Or, Jack does, when he's in his right mind. He doesn't acknowledge anything to do with his own issues right now. It's not fair to Jerry when he's already dealing with his best friend having some kind of breakdown, and dealing with the loss of Sabine. He realizes he doesn't actually know if her and Jerry were close.

Kahlil shakes his head, taking a step back. ]

Let me know if he does anything stupid. [ Which isn't particularly nice, but - he'll leave it at that for now, turning to leave. ]

[ He hasn't really spoken at length about Ferrix to anyone. Or rather, he hasn't really spoken about his galaxy at all since arriving here. Most of that had been paranoia, at least upon arrival. And after a while it was just old habits persisting (never mind that he couldn't have spoken about his past if he wanted to during those eight hundred years because the Singularity had made him forget).

Normally it would he'd be perfectly content not to speak about Ferrix, his galaxy, or the people he cherishes the reminder of his time here. Life had taught him that keeping his mouth shut, saying less and listening and observing, was how he kept himself and those around him safe.

But maybe the sentimentality is getting to him. Maybe forcefully forgetting everyone he loved had dealt a larger blow to him than he was letting everyone around him - and himself - believe. Maybe talking about it would help soothe the deep seeded fear that he was capable of forgetting his past and everything that came with it when it was normally woven into his skin. ]

It's a working town. Mostly stone and sky. We salvage parts for the rest of the galaxy to profit off of.

[ While his tone is even there's an undertone of fondness to it. ]

It's nothing like the place you saw. [ That in itself is a different story. ] I didn't understand the language. I didn't know where I was or who my adoptive parents were. But I could see that the people there looked out for each other.

( Jack can, at times, be perceptive — when circumstances are right, and when he's actually interested in the person. Now, with Cassian being the sole source of his focus, he's capable of picking up on nuances he'd otherwise normally miss.

The expression on his face, the undercurrent in his tone. The atmosphere around him. )

It seems like you really loved it there.

( Both the place, and his home with his adoptive parents. A place where people look out for each other. It must be nice. He wishes he could relate. )

I'm sorry you have to keep rebuilding.

( Rebuilding on Ferrix, rebuilding here, rebuilding in that shared hallucination, rebuilding here again... it's a lot to ask of somebody. )

[ jerry's in the kitchen, working on his chicken soup for healing your best bud's deep emotional wounds and unresolved trauma before he implodes. cool news: best friend has finally come to see him! less cool news: best friend just swatted the soup he was about to offer him like will smith hearing an unfunny joke. ]

Aw man, friendship soup.

[ jerry looks down at the soup puddle mournfully. hurtful. but it's fine, the more important thing is jack, whose only interactions with him recently have been telling him to go away, came to talk to him, all on his own. so, we're passed stage... whatever number dissociation and books and unhinged desperation is. Now onto stage: totally hinged plotting (with lingering notes of desperation, but calculated now, like desperation if it were pack of velocirapters).

we're scheming now, we're planning, we're taking the fight to the man, or woman, or the authority figure that does official shit like have meetings and guards. ]

Okie dokie. [ jerry doesn't need details. let's fuckin' go, boys. ] Can I handle it, uh, ch'yeah. Can a Peacock Mantis Shrimp’s punch create a sonic boom, boil water and break glass?

[ the answer is yes. don't throw hands with mantis shrimp. jerry eyes the cookware around him, taking inventory of distraction resources, and starts yanking down pots and pans and soup ladels and knives and— ]

Where's it going down, Capitan?

[Wilhelm doesn't realize that he's doing it, but he matches the rise and fall of Jack's breath as that warmth sinks into him, stretches into a low hum like something coming to life.]

Think about your girlfriend. Picture her in your head.

[Jack can do that part better than he can. Wilhelm, for his part, needs to pour the full measure of his concentration into reconstructing Kelson in his mind. It stands to reason that if Jack's power is coursing through him, then the spell, although shaped by Wilhelm's tongue, is half his.

When he says the incantation, he knows at once that something is different. He can feel it move through him like lightning through a conductor. Normally, the spell guides the way to whatever's been lost with a faintly glowing path, as if marked on a map. Now, bright golden lines snap out around them like dozens of banners in a turbulent wind, pointing dozens of directions every second.]

Edited 2024-05-29 16:54 (UTC)

In one of the chambers near where they do the summoning, in like-

( He looks down at his wrist. He doesn't have a watch. There is nothing capable of telling time on his arm, and yet he still says: )

Fifteen minutes.

( Can you replace friendship soup with friendship distraction in that amount of time?? )

( All things considered, that could have been worse. It also could have been a fucking lot better, or not happened in the first place, but if it had to happen? Definitely could have ended worse. Jack could be in the dungeons right now, or... wherever they keep the prison. He could be a scorch mark on the castle floor, a victim to an errant fireball spell or some other such dungeons and dragons nonsense.

Instead, he's the fortunate victim of one timely intervention from Yennefer complete with a look that promises she's likely to rip him a new asshole, and a grounding to his room like he's a teenager — and then Kyle drags him away from the scene in a manner far less physical than he'd been drug out of the library.

He's a lot more compliant on their walk back to his room this time. There's no fighting it, no attitude, just the sullen, quiet walk of a man too defeated to even feel awkward in the silence that descends upon them. They haven't talked since the library thing. Give him enough time and he'll surely break that, he just... needs to spend a minute reflecting on how much he hates himself, and this castle, and life, and everything. )

[ Kahlil is relieved that Jack simply follows him down the halls to the room this time. He's doing his best not to let show how alarmed he was to stumble into that situation-in-progress, annoyed with himself (and Jerry, to a lesser degree) for not stopping Jack before he made it to Ambrose's door.

The High Mage has been particularly forgiving, which he won't really question for now.

He hasn't spoken much to Jack since the library, leaving that to Jerry. He hasn't forgotten Jack's anger turned at him, and while he didn't defend himself then, he's not certain he would be so passive if they fought a second time.

Kahlil opens the door to the room to let Jack inside, still saying nothing, maybe waiting in vain for Jack to offer some explanation, like Kahlil doesn't already know why he'd attempt to steal the ritual. ]

( Bad news, Kyle — Jerry rarely if ever stops Jack from doing something Jack's set his mind to do. They have a very interesting relationship dynamic that generally involves Jack calling the shots and Jerry asking almost no questions about those whatsoever. It's saved their lives a few times in the heat of the moment, but does him no favors in situations like this. It's also tremendously unlikely to change, and largely not worth the energy to try.

Kyle opens the door for him. Jack slips inside past him, shoulders slumping. He does manage to make human words finally, in the form of a quiet, slightly awkward: )

Thanks. For... the door, but also for taking me out of there.

[ Kahlil nods, though he's not sure Jack sees it as he slips past him into the room. Their room, along with Jerry, for the past few weeks. He had brought all his things over, which truthfully wasn't much: besides clothes and personal weaponry there's the knick-knacks he's acquired from friends over the past two winter holidays. ]

You could've gotten Jerry in a hell of a lot more trouble, you know.

[ Maybe Jack doesn't care about what happens to himself, now. But now that Jerry is here, his partner in crime clearly won't let him go down alone. He thinks they're both stupid, but he's angry in the wake of being scared that something worse could've happened.

He scowls, walking over to his own bed - unsure if he should even stay. ]

( It confuses him a little, that assertion. It's just- almost kind of silly, considering the broad range of insane and wacky hijinks Jack and Jerry have gotten into, most of which at a much higher scale than just interrupting a meeting. They're usually straddling the line of life or death level consequences, a day in a jail cell is something neither of them are likely to bat an eyelash at, but especially not Jerry.

Jerry makes going to prison shirts for fun. Jerry would be more upset at the prospect of having been left out of Jack's stupid plan than he would be for any of the consequences that follow it. Jack knows Jerry. )

For annoying some guards? I don't know, I mean... we've done worse. I'd take the blame for him, if it came to that, but...

( He shrugs. It didn't. )

[ He looks over his shoulder at Jack, slightly incredulous. ]

You think they'd have been so understanding if you actually interrupted the ritual? Even if Jerry let you take the blame for him, it wouldn't matter, they'd lock both of you up. They used to execute people here, Jack.

[ He looks and sounds frustrated, though he hasn't raised his voice. Kahlil has no idea how to make Jack take any of this seriously, or even if he can. It sometimes feels like he might as well be shouting at stone walls when it comes to certain people that he cares about, they don't take his concerns seriously. After a month of barely speaking to each other, and now this, his threshold is low. ]

( Kyle's answer for a long moment is quiet again. He breathes in, breathes out, and then softly says: )

I'm sorry. I know- I know you're frustrated with me, and you have every right to be. It was stupid.

( He's still not so sure it was execution stupid, but it was definitely potentially serious repercussions stupid. Kyle probably knows what the potential consequences are better than he does, he's more tuned in to the political landscape, more familiar with the powerful people at play than Jack is. )

I just- ( He passes a hand across his mouth, then paces slowly over to his bed. He lowers himself down onto the edge of it, perching on a few short inches of mattress. ) I just- I kept thinking that I should be doing something, that I've been learning all this stuff for- years now, but what's the fucking point if I can't even use it to protect the people I care about? I've just been sitting here, doing nothing, and she's-

( Dead. She's dead. She was sent home to die. )

[ Kahlil is bracing to be shouted at again, fully intending to shout right back this time. So he's taken aback when Jack's reply comes almost calm, or at least contained. He continues to frown at him, watching him shift to the edge of the bed. Kahlil doesn't follow, but he does turn all the way around to face him.

His brow furrows as he's able to finish that sentence without Jack having to say it. ]

I know. [ I'm sorry. His expression softens. If there's any truth to that future they saw, there doesn't seem to be an answer coming to them any time soon. ]

Someone told me they think the ritual might... lock on to a world after it's been summoned from once already. [ A beat. ] You came back. So did Jerry.

[ She could come back, just like they did. ]

Edited 2024-05-30 03:30 (UTC)

( It feels different, with Sabine. Not only because she's a different creature entirely, a different being, but- Jack and Jerry aren't dead back home. He feels, on some instinctive level, that Sabine's story is finished. Maybe that's just his tendency to view everything like a writer would, to see story arcs and tropes in real life where they don't necessarily belong, but narratively... it feels over.

Finished.

He had one chance to hold onto it, and he failed at that.

But that's a batshit insane thing to say out loud to another person, it's absolutely an insane thing to think, and he knows Kyle's just trying to comfort him, so he offers what he can. A small, slightly noncommittal: )

Yeah, maybe.

( He doesn't think so, though. Now that he can see through the fog of denial, now that these weeks have passed, now that all of his energy has left him in one violent explosion at Ambrose Rhett, holding on to delusion feels like it costs more than Jack can give.

The weight of that sinks in.

He presses his fingers to his eyelids, and speaks with them slowly rubbing circles over the skin. Focus on this, not that. )

I, um- ( He works to clear his throat, suddenly thick. ) I really am sorry. For how I've been acting, ever since we got back. I know I've been an asshole, and really... selfish. I'm sorry I pushed you.

[ jerry holds up his own naked wrist, squints at his bare skin, taps the lack of watchface, and appears to be set a timer he doesn't have for 15 minutes. watches synconized, he then begins to strip down. ]

Hold my beer.

[ deposited into jack's arms is a pile of clothes, and on top, the boxers he's decorated with a drawing of a bear with deer antlers - a beer. ]

Now let me cook.

[ it's possibly unwise, definitely a health code violation, to leave a naked man unattended in a kitchen, but jerry's already busied himself yanking spices off a shelf and building some unholy concoction as he waves jack away. let the man work.

fifteen minutes later, jerry appears in the designated location as promised. bare assed save for a mid-thigh length apron and a chef hat (both somehow now bedazzled), he pirouettes his way up to the guards. stuffing both hands in his apron pockets, they come out clutching a mixture of pepper, chili powder, lemon zest, a delicious hot wing dry rub, and paprika.

chemical warfare pilled in both palms, he delivers each guard a resounding pimp slap, the spices exploding in a cloud that coats their faces. while they're sneezing up a storm and clawing at their eyes, jerry snatches their weapons with a yoink! and springs off down the hallway. his battle cry echoes off the stone walls. ]

I'm Rick James, bitch!

[ Cackling, shouting, ass bouncing gleefully, jerry clangs the weapons together like a toddler banging on pots and pans and waking up everyone in the fucking house. the guards give chase, still sneezing and wiping terrible spices from their eyes. the door is clear. ]

Edited 2024-05-30 05:12 (UTC)

[ He knows nothing he can say will land right, even before Jack replies. Jack has been pushing back at reality for weeks now. As frustrated as he became, Kahlil can't blame him for not wanting to accept the truth that she's gone again. He can't say how he would react, if he were in Jack's shoes right now. He was devoted to her, not like servant to god but - something like it, in a way.

Knowing - or at least vaguely understanding what Sabine was, Kahlil can't imagine she is gone in the same permanent way that Jack believes her to be.

But he knows better than to say that right now.

He shakes his head when Jack apologies. ]

You're not very strong. [ This he says with a small shrug. It wasn't like Jack hurt him physically. He frowns at him, looking mildly chastised himself. ]

I'm sorry for hauling you back here.

[ For causing him to shove him in the first place. ]

( You're not very strong — okay, true, but also... mean. He has plenty of upper body strength from all that digging, thank you very much, he just didn't really want to hurt Kyle. It wasn't an earnest shove. He could totally have shoved harder. Shut up.

It's fine, that's not the point. He doesn't actually have enough pride left to his name for it to sting all that much. His dignity all died off over the course of the last five or six years, he's a withered husk with hardly any ego left. )

It's okay.

( He says, a breathy exhale of fatigue more than proper words. )

I get why you did it. I didn't really love getting manhandled, but... I know you were just trying to help, and I know you've got your own... stuff you're probably dealing with, after everything. You shouldn't have to deal with mine on top of it. I don't want you to feel like my mental state is your responsibility to manage, but I feel like I've- I put you in this position where you feel obligated to, and that sucks. I just- want you to know that I'm not your problem, and you don't have to worry about me. I'm not gonna- you know.

( Hurt anyone. Hurt himself. Do anything else stupid, after today's stupendous failure. Flip like a switch and pull a box cutter out on someone. )

[ A moment ago he might've asked Jack if he wanted him to stay, or wanted to be alone. Instead, he sighs, walking over to the other bed and sitting down next to him... well, first he does a quick sweep with his foot beneath the frame, to make sure Rita isn't lurking. Then he sits, folding his hands over his knees.

He doesn't acknowledge the mention of his own issues. Jack lost Sabine, his own problems are silly and honestly of his own making compared to what Jack's going through. He should be better are separating everything, and not getting so frustrated. ]

I'm your friend. I think if I was that low, you'd do the same for me. [ Something similar, anyway. With less physical dragging. He shrugs. He doesn't want Jack to feel bad that his friends are looking out for him. ]

And I know you have Jerry now, but - I think you both need an outside opinion, sometimes.

[ Kahlil has done many reckless things in his life. Somehow none are nearly as absurd as what Jerry and Jack get up to. ]

( Despite himself, his lips quirk up a little. )

What, you mean we're not a tag-team duo of rationality and good decision-making?

( This is why they have Rosa and O'Brien to balance them out. Those two contain all the compassion, emotional intelligence, common sense, and grounded logic. Jack and Jerry, when combined, sometimes just make up the human equivalent of the word yeet. Between the two of them, Jack is usually the more stable voice of reason, but when shit hits the fan and he's in Rampage Mode? All bets are off. He is aware of this. Kyle is absolutely right. Absolutely fair assessment. )

You're a tag-team of something no one's invented a word for yet...

[ Kahlil grins openly, shaking his head. He looks down at his hands for a moment, then gives Jack a sidelong glance. ]

I'll show you something, if you promise not to get mad.

[ Kahlil doesn't think it'll actually make Jack mad, but he's not sure how he'll react to the scar. ]

( Given enough time, he's sure he could probably come up with an accurate word to describe them — possibly a combination of two existing words to create some new Frankenstein abomination encapsulating the extent of their chaos and inexplicable luck.

Fortunately for them both, he's distracted almost immediately. )

I'm fresh out of mad for a while, I think. Probably.

( Which is not a promise at all, but hopefully it's enough encouragement to continue anyway. )

[ He gives Jack a funny look at probably, but otherwise takes that as his cue to start undoing the ties at the front of his shirt so that he can shrug it over his head, folding it neatly in his lap. In their previous time as roommates Kahlil had undressed in front of Jack many times, the number of scars on his body won't come to any surprise - though there's two new ones. One, he doesn't bother bringing attention to, at his midsection not so far from the wound that killed him in his own world. The other - ]

Here - look. [ He says this quickly, angling his back toward him, pointing with one hand at the opposite shoulder where a large scar starts and wraps around his shoulder blade. It looks eerily like a pattern of moths, a cloud of them, etched into his skin like acid marks. Not pretty, but not quite ugly either.

Jack should recognize where this came from, the night he nearly destroyed Lucifer. ]

I can't get a good look at them - [ obviously ] - but I think sometimes they... move.

[ Whenever he looks away, it seems like they're in a slightly different position. ]

There's nothing to apologize for. Nothing that you have to apologize for anyway.

[ A familiar prickle at the back of his neck signals the subtle shift of attention towards him and he has tell himself that it's from years of always watching his back and not from whatever connection the Singularity had made him think they had. It's easier to ground himself in the memories of a home that he can no longer just fly to on a whim than focus on the way Jack's attention has suddenly focused on him.

But maybe, he thinks, that's a good thing. If it can provide a momentary respite from whatever pain he's going through then maybe this discomfort is something he can live with. At least for a little while. ]

It's more of a home than Kenari was.

[ Not because he cared for it any less or didn't have fond memories of that lush green planet, but because he hadn't spent enough years there to warrant calling it home. ]

We looked after each other because no one else would. And the Empire doesn't care for anything outside its own agenda. That's why I have to get back to my galaxy.

[ He's speaking about Ferrix, but the same could be said about Kenari. No one cared about that tiny planet in the Mid Rim after it had been stripped of its resources. No one except the children that had been scattered to the stars. ]

( Jack doesn't spend a lot of time looking in the mirror, studying his reflection. If he did, maybe at some point in the last week he might have gotten the angle right to catch a glimpse of color at the very back of his neck, might have been able to crane in such a way that he could see a very similar shape hiding there. As it stands, he doesn't know, and maybe nobody else has noticed either. They share something in common all the same.

Here, now, he's not sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't this. The very clear trail of moths staining Kyle's skin, less a tattoo and more a scar.

He can feel his stomach sinking, a horrifying rush of guilt. A flashback to being a preteen in a trailer, and cigarette burns. )

Oh, fuck. Shit, is that- did I do that to you?!

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𝐿𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒 (open.)

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aftermath; kyle.

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