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abraxaslogs2024-05-12 06:31 pm
stations) wrote in abraxaslogs2024-05-12 06:31 pm
πΏππβπ‘π π€πππ ππ’πππ π¦ππ’ βπππ (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.
πβππ π¦ππ’ π‘ππ¦ π¦ππ’π πππ π‘, ππ’π‘ π¦ππ’ πππ'π‘ π π’πππππ
πβππ π¦ππ’ πππ‘ π€βππ‘ π¦ππ’ π€πππ‘, ππ’π‘ πππ‘ π€βππ‘ π¦ππ’ ππππ
πβππ π¦ππ’ ππππ π π π‘ππππ, ππ’π‘ π¦ππ’ πππ'π‘ π ππππ
ππ‘π’ππ ππ πππ£πππ π
π΄ππ π‘βπ π‘ππππ ππππ π π‘πππππππ πππ€π π¦ππ’π ππππ
πβππ π¦ππ’ πππ π π ππππ‘βπππ π¦ππ’ πππ'π‘ πππππππ
πβππ π¦ππ’ πππ£π π ππππππ, ππ’π‘ ππ‘ ππππ π‘π π€ππ π‘π
πΆππ’ππ ππ‘ ππ π€πππ π?
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.
πβππ π¦ππ’ πππ‘ π€βππ‘ π¦ππ’ π€πππ‘, ππ’π‘ πππ‘ π€βππ‘ π¦ππ’ ππππ
πβππ π¦ππ’ ππππ π π π‘ππππ, ππ’π‘ π¦ππ’ πππ'π‘ π ππππ
ππ‘π’ππ ππ πππ£πππ π
π΄ππ π‘βπ π‘ππππ ππππ π π‘πππππππ πππ€π π¦ππ’π ππππ
πβππ π¦ππ’ πππ π π ππππ‘βπππ π¦ππ’ πππ'π‘ πππππππ
πβππ π¦ππ’ πππ£π π ππππππ, ππ’π‘ ππ‘ ππππ π‘π π€ππ π‘π
πΆππ’ππ ππ‘ ππ π€πππ π?
no subject
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 Shrimpβs 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 andβ ]
Where's it going down, Capitan?
no subject
( 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?? )
no subject
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. ]
no subject
The guards are fully and completely distracted by this surprisingly harmless yet undeniably effective display, and they leave their posts to chase after a man they will forever unironically think is named Rick James.
It's a loud cacophony of noise, it carries down the hall, and it's likely enough that this alone might catch the attention of other Summoned in nearby rooms. But just in case it isn't, a few short minutes later, the sound of Jack's carrying voice raised to an uncommon, uncharacteristic shout certainly will.
With the door free and unguarded, Jack bursts directly into a private meeting with Ambrose fucking Rhett. Also, a handful of other people Jack doesn't recognize, and could not give a single solitary flying fuck about, because all his attention is turned on the man in question, who sits calmly as Jack works himself up making his demands.
The other people at the table shift to intervene, but stop once the guy pulls that absolute power move of raising a single palm to stop them. It's how collected he seems, how utterly unperturbed, that only adds to Jack's fury, and it's the reason why the storm clouds begin to gather directly along the ceiling of the chamber. It's the reason it begins to rain within the walls, the reason why ominous thunder rumbles loud enough to shake chairs, and the a familiar unpleasant energy of something manifesting into reality begins to weigh oppressively down onto every inch of the room.
He can just barely hear Ambrose's stern I can't do that underneath the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears, and Yennefer enters just at tail end of Jack snarling back a furious: )
Yes you fucking can, you salt-and-pepper Gandalf motherfucker, you BROUGHT HER HERE IN THE FUCKING FIRST PLACE, you can bring her back!
( This could be the precarious precipice with a looming point of no return, without some kind of very timely intervention. )
no subject
she hasn't really noticed that jack has missed weeks of lessons, though some part of her feels like it's been too long since she last ran into him in the hall. since they last spoke. the only memories she can pull aren't really theirs - years and decades and lifetimes interwoven - and yet...
well. she supposes she can't be surprised that the moment her thoughts drift in that direction, she hears a somewhat familiar voice echo down the hall. when she looks up, it is in fact jerry - someone who she recognizes more from those false memories than she does actually interacting in the castle - who goes streaking by, followed by a couple of guards who smell...surprisingly like the spice cabinet in one of the castle's kitchens. yennefer frowns, but wastes no time in moving down the hall in the opposite direction, towards where she knows ambrose's study is but... there is no way that is the reason.
there's no way that jack would be that stupid.
except that as she is only a door or two away, she hears his voice lift and echo down the hall, the distinct sound of thunder, and she realizes that yes, actually, jack is that stupid. and she should have assumed as much when she first saw jerry, so really, perhaps it's her own failing that by the time she curses and grabs at her skirts and rushes down the hall, jack has already- well. has already begun. without thinking yennefer moves into the room, noticing the bodies of the other shocked and confused thoreans alongside ambrose. and gods, gods she is going to regret this. feels the regret already burning up in her throat as she moves, grabbing at jack's wrist and jerking him back a step or two so she can move around him, between him and the high mage.
it's not that she's calm, because that certainly isn't the case, but the poise and ease she all but forces into her easy smile is practiced and determined. she lets go of jack's wrist now that she's placed herself between him and the mage's desk, glancing up only briefly at the storm clouds, then over her shoulder at him. ]
Ah- Ambrose, you'll have to forgive him. This last journey to the Singularity has affected many of us Summoned differently.
[ she assumes jack will take the message. will turn and leave while he can. and if he doesn't- well, she'll have to find a way to make him. somehow. ]
no subject
He still trusts her, though. Trusted her before the alternate reality hit them, and he can't help but trust her now, conceding the power position even as a frustrated confused furrow plasters itself across his brow.
No, wait, that's not- he wasn't done- it isn't fixed, she's not-
Except then Yennefer begins to apologize on his behalf.
Yennefer fucking hates this guy. The fact that she's smoothing things over with him for Jack, the fact that she's making nice when Jack knows in his core she wants to slit Ambrose's fucking throat with her fingernails?
Hits. Hard.
His momentum sputters, fumbles, confidence waning. And he stands there, stuck, like a fucking idiot, torn between speaking up again and leaving, opposing forces carrying equal weight. )
no subject
He's obviously been drawn here by the noise - along with having briefly seen Jerry fly down the hallway naked, trailed by all of those guards. Kahlil's quick to recover from his confusion as he hears Jack shouting about bringing her back. He doesn't race down the hall so much as blink out of nowhere from behind Jack, where he now sees Yennefer standing almost protectively between him and Ambrose. He doesn't know exactly what's just happened, but he can gather up all the pieces starting with Jerry and make an educated guess.
He grabs Jack by the shoulder, ignoring that they reason they have barely spoken in weeks is because of the last time he physically pushed Jack around. ]
We're going back to your room, now.
[ He says this loudly for the benefit of Yennefer and the mages. There's a brief flicker of concern for her, but he's seen Lucifer get a slap on the wrist for attempting to assault Ambrose once before - the man's been surprisingly lenient. Kahlil might be one of the few Summoned here that doesn't despise the High Mage, anyway.
He'll start pulling Jack down the hall whether he likes it or not. Jerry... he'll have to deal with that after. ]
no subject
He feels β
Depleted, suddenly. Like the great torrent of fire that had been propelling him here, the gallons and gallons of get fuel and motivation, have all been abruptly drained and squandered.
He feels β
Bone-deep, crushing resignation, finally sweeping in after weeks and weeks of aggressive, energized denial.
He feels like he might have fucked up.
He shoots one last extremely lost look at Yennefer, and then allows Kyle to peel him away toward the hall, his shoulders dropping and his posture falling into something small. )