abraxaslogs | september catch-all; open

( So there they stand in the wake of the bird murder (burder?), Jack covered in blood he hasn't really earned, Kyle panting, and almost a half dozen bird corpses littering the ground around them.

A beat of silence passes wherein Jack has the opportunity to feel like a dumbass for trying to heroically sacrifice himself for somebody who doesn't need it to an extent that is almost laughable.

After that long, pregnant pause, he levels Kyle with a frustrated accusation. )

Why are you so cool? What the fuck, dude? That was incredible. Holy crap. Can you, like, chill?

[ He's been crouched where he landed, head down, and only finally turning his head toward Jack with an utterly perplexed expression on his weary features.

It seems to take him a second to parse the hostile words, and then his shoulders start to shake with tired but genuinely mirthful laughter.

He quiets again as the other volunteers finally approach speaking distance. They check the bird corpses, trying to decide what to do with five of them now - and concerned about more desperate, starving beasts that survived the burning woods impeding their efforts. Kahlil nods and answers their questions - a few are curious about how he took them down, but as they keep talking he tries to shift behind Jack, leaving him to speak with them as he focuses on trying to stay on his feet.

He ends up crouching near the cart they'd been using, parked by the makeshift outpost. His wounds aren't serious, though he's starting to feel them now. ]

Edited 2022-09-13 15:30 (UTC)

( Wow, cool, what a terrible decision to leave Jack in charge of speaking to human beings. He's genuinely not sure whether or not he's supposed to lie to these guys, whether Kyle's status as a ninja is a secret or something.

Time to use his elusive cunning and disadvantage to all deception checks with a -5 modifier to control the situation.

How did he do that? )

Magic.

( I've never seen any magic like that. )

It was... bird magic.

( Bird... magic? )

Yep. Totally poultry fueled, it's insane. You should see him in a KFC.

( What is a... KFC? )

Um. It's this- it's like a. You know what? It stands for... kill fucking chickens. I don't know what to tell you, dude just really hates birds. A bird murdered his entire family. He's really sensitive about it, but we're fine here, so if you could just... give us a minute?

( O...kay.

He gets the sense it's less that they believe or even understand him, and more that they're just so perplexed by speaking to him they'd rather just opt out of the conversation than keep pursuing their questions. The farmers go about loading up the bodies, heaving them onto carts one after another, because waste not want not, right? Might as well harvest them for meat and bones and feathers or whatever. Use every part of the birdfalo.

Once they're preoccupied with that, he turns his attention back to Kyle. )

Hey, are you okay? Shit, you're bleeding. How bad is it? Do you wanna maybe sit down for a second, I can probably... help with those?

[ Kahlil lifts his head automatically to Jack's approach, frowning at the question and eyeing the deep cut on his bicep. It's hard for him to say whether he was caught but a beak or claw, or if it was the Gray Space itself that caused his wounds, the unfamiliar currents punishing him for his reckless speed. It was sloppy, he would have rather not used his abilities at all in the presence of natives. With Jack so readily willing to sacrifice himself, he hadn't had much of a choice.

After a moment, softly: ]

It's not that bad. [ He gingerly touches the wet spot on his scalp, his hair sticky and tangled there. ] Just need to get it cleaned...

[ The world tilts very suddenly, and he goes from a crouch to sitting. The last thing he wants to do is actually pass out here. ]

( Kyle tilts from crouch to ass, and Jack's reflexes are catlike only in the sense that they're probably asleep in a sun spot on the floor somewhere right now. He jolts to try and catch the guy about a second and a half late, and doesn't so much as manage to even get a hand on him before it's already over.

Why did he bother trying, really?

It's still a little concerning, despite Kyle's insistence to the contrary. )

Okay. Um- hold on.

( He takes a slow, precarious knee at Kyle's side.

He's been practicing. There's a pause, a look of concentration, a wrinkle of his nose. Two, three, four seconds pass, and then with little fanfare and no special effects, there's quite suddenly a coffee cup in his left hand, and a scrap of cloth in his right. )

Here, let me see-

( It might be alarming, but should Kyle balk at the idea that Jack's about to dab hot coffee on his wound, he can breathe easy. Any reluctance will be met with a bewildered: it's just water, I'm not a maniac.

He can help rinse the gross and the dirt out, give him something to press against the wound to stop the bleeding until they can get back to the castle and have a healer take care of it. )

Edited 2022-09-20 07:11 (UTC)

[ He fixes for a second Jack's face, the way he wrinkles his nose gives him the sudden urge to pinch it - which, probably lucky for both of them, he doesn't indulge in. It should say something that the sudden appearance of the mug and cloth out of thin air doesn't startle Kahlil. ]

Oh - thanks. [ he says almost like a question, reaching to take the mug with the assumption there's coffee in it and it's being offered. Odd, but it might give him a spark of energy... he only frowns and stops when his hands touch the ceramic and the mug is definitely cold. ]

Uh -

( Literally never once in his entire life has anybody pinched his nose. He genuinely could not say how he would react.

Odds are he probably wouldn't, seeing as that's his default. )

Oh- no, this is...

( He tilts the mug to show its contents — clear, cool, clean. )

For cleaning. Your head, I mean. Not drinking. Unless you're thirsty, in which case go for it, I can make another one. I just thought...

( You know.

Helping. )

Right, right -

[ Makes sense. He quickly lets go of the mug, closing his eyes and tilts his head down, allowing Jack a better view of the gash on his scalp (and hiding his mild embarrassment).

It's not particularly deep or gory, but its still oozing thanks to it being a head wound, and his hair is already starting to become sticky around it. ]

Thanks. [ Did he say that yet? ]

Dude. You just saved me from like two dozen murder birds. You don't need to thank me for anything again, like, ever.

( Insisted somehow both mildly and emphatically. Maybe it's the gentle monotone that perpetually overlays his voice.

In any case, he goes about cleaning the blood out of Kyle's hair with the methodical nature of a man who has done this way too many times. When you have a best friend like Jerry who has a fetish for swords and shoulder-length hair, you get kind of good at weirdly specific stuff like this. )

Hey- why do you keep doing that, anyway?

Edited (i found a typo) 2022-10-05 06:20 (UTC)

[ Murder birds. He lets out a light huff.

Jack's unflappable calm lets him relax for a moment. With someone else he might be still trying to calm them down or convince them that his wound isn't as bad as it probably looks. He wouldn't mind having to do either if needed, but — it's a relief not to have to right now.

Wound aside, Jack's fingers moving through his hair feels... nice. This time he lets out a breath that's more like a sigh. ]

Keep doing what?

Sweeping in to help me.

( As though it should be obvious — it is to Jack, anyway. He can count on one hand the number of people who have ever bothered to intervene on his behalf in his entire life, so every instance of it stands out bright and clarion in his sad, foggy mashed potato brains.

Between catching him mid-stumble in that ballroom to the focus cast on him during the rain-spell thing (Look after Jack) to this? It's starting to transcend coincidence and head straight toward pattern.

Blood largely cleaned, step number two is to snag his sleeve with his teeth and rip a scrap of fabric off without preamble. He folds it in half, presses it lightly to the wound, and then reaches out to guide Kyle's hand to it in an unspoken you hold this here. )

Would you rather I didn't?

[ He hears the tear of fabric and glances up, the confusion in his expression making it clear he's not teasing this time. The obvious answer in the case of the homicidal dinosaur birds is: because you would have died. He hasn't really thought much about the ballroom dancing - the attack and the conversation they had in the carriage afterward supersedes all that in his memory.

As he studies Jack's face he lets his hand be led to the fabric scrap and then to his wound. His own fingers are cold to the touch, making Jack's feel comparatively warm. ]

I don't know, maybe?

( He shrugs, his hands falling down uselessly to his sides — at some point in all that, the cup vanished. He doesn't remember when, didn't notice, and doesn't think about it now. It served its purpose and, in an exceedingly convenient timely fashion, disappeared. A scrap of cloth would too, hence the ripping it off of an already bird-blood ruined shirt. )

Don't get me wrong, I totally appreciate not being torn to shreds by ostriches from my nightmares, but... historically speaking, really fucked up shit tends to happen in my general... atmosphere. I get the feeling sooner rather than later it's gonna be something way more dangerous than a party fowl. I know you're a ninja and everything, but you don't have to be a stupid ninja. Stupid ninjas are dead ninjas.

Stupid? Ouch.

[ He makes a slightly exaggerated expression. He knows that's not what Jack meant, though, and after a second he sighs again, shakes his head very slowly. ]

If it helps at all, I absolve you of any guilt in my potential untimely demise. Being a priest and all, I can do that. [ Deadpan. That is not the type of priest he was at all.

Then, with a raised eyebrow. ]

Is it so weird to think that I'd like to help my friend?

[ It's only a half second later that he questions that word: friend, and the potential that he's overreaching onesided-ly. Are they friends? They haven't known each other all that long. But he does like Jack. He's strange, but a good man. Honest and brave. And he knows more about Kahlil than anyone else in at least three worlds. ]

( My friend — there's a faltering moment on Jack's end, wherein it looks like perhaps the world's most apathetic deer just got caught in the headlights. It's the most muted, muffled surprise a human being is capable of.

Kyle just dropped the f-word, and Jack is experiencing one (1) entire emotion.

Which is stupid and embarrassing, knock it off, Jesus, is he really that pathetic? )

I guess not.

( He acquiesces after an awkward pause, scratching absently at the back of his neck. Following it, an equally awkward laugh directed at the ground somewhere off to the left of Kyle's feet. )

Honestly? I kind of thought you didn't like me that much.

( After the whole Satan non-argument thing, and also... because of who Jack is as a person. )

[ Well, now he feels a bit bad for making it awkward. But since Jack's doing all the looking away it allows Kahlil to watch him. Smiling a bit to himself at first, and then Jack says the next part. ]

Why?

[ Genuinely confused again. They did have that argument in the carriage, but he considered it settled. He frowns. Had he been teasing Jack too much? Was it because of the booze rain comment? ]

( Oh, well this is weird. He'd thrown it out there as an off-hand comment, he didn't actually expect there to be a follow-up question. This is turning into an actual conversation.

Crap. Dang it.

Well, he started it, there's no ducking out of it now. Might as well just go with it. )

Well, for starters, the whole Lucifer thing. ( The fact that he used Kyle as a shield, then that little weird confrontation they had after. ) But also, you're so...

( Vague gesture at Kyle.

Awesome smooth badass teleporting ninja priest apparently? )

And I'm so...

( Vague gesture at himself. He knows what he's like. Not exactly somebody you'd put on your top ten list of people to invite over to hang out. )

[ He squints at Jack. He'd already told him he didn't care that he'd told Lucifer about having a ninja bodyguard or whatever he'd said, only that he'd prefer a heads up. And he'd also already explained that he just wanted Jack to be careful, even if he could've said it... nicer -

either way, it didn't bother him.

Then Jack starts gesturing and his frown deepens, one eyebrow raising. ]

You're so what?

[ Oh, he knows exactly what Jack is trying to imply. But he'll have to say it aloud. Use your words. ]

( Jack pulls a face — flat, unimpressed. )

Sociable and well-adjusted.

( He returns in dry, even deadpan. He knows you know what he means.

Look, he's not insecure or anything, okay? Honestly, he's totally fine with how he is and genuinely doesn't give a shit about what most people think. He's just realistic. He might not be the best at detecting the emotions or thoughts of others, but if he's anything, at least he's self-aware. )

[ He's thoroughly unflappable right now. ]

How many of us here really are, do you think?

[ Either of those things. He doesn't count himself as someone possessing those qualities, except as a lie. Even Cal, arguably the most normal one of the people he's met in Castle Thorne, has his odd little quirks. Kahlil is someone who happens to find most of the quirks everyone here has endearing, for the most part. Even Lucifer has the odd moment.

He lowers the cloth from his head. ]

You're very clever, Jack. I've also seen you be brave, and kind. [ He shrugs, staring at the blood on the cloth in his head. ]

And I'd rather you didn't get eaten by giant chickens.

( Everything Kyle says is really, unexpectedly, surprisingly nice. Honestly, Jack isn't even sure how to react to it at first, aside for maybe to wait a second for the gotcha that never comes.

Eventually, softly: )

Thanks.

( It's all he can really come up with, and it seems woefully underwhelming, considering. Should he... compliment the guy back? Maybe that would seem forced. What would he even say that he hasn't said already, or at the very least implied? The badass ninja thing is probably played out by now. He could compliment Kyle's hair or something but that seems... weird.

Maybe they should just, you know. Go.

He stands up straight. Holds a hand out to Kyle, an offer to help him up and, if necessary, act as a crutch while they walk back to the portal.

One thing does come to mind then, though— )

Are you really a priest?

[ It's not underwhelming. For Jack to genuinely accept what he's saying without pushing back or denying anything is satisfying in a way he's not really used to.

It feels nice too.

Jack extends his hand and Kahlil reaches out with his free one, lurching back up to his feet. Every ache in his body seems to flare at once, but he knows it'll pass. He smiles at Jack, physically weary but amused. ]

I am. [ The Payshmura are gone, but the Rifter is alive. He is the Kahlil, His servant. Even here. ] I thought you knew.

[ He raises an eyebrow. Jack had seen something of his past, his memory. It wasn't your fault, Jack had said. ]

( For a skinny guy with one leg, Jack's perhaps surprisingly sturdy. He pulls a good amount of Kyle's weight up, then tightens his hand on Kyle's forearm to make sure he's steady, stable. Only once he's sure does he start walking, slow partly for Kyle's sake and also... partly because he has a fake fucking leg, you know how it goes. )

I'm not, like, psychic. I don't know your whole life story, I just saw a glimpse.

( A beat, and then uncertainly: )

Your... honor? Father? Pope?

( He's kidding.

Mostly. )

[ He appreciates the slower pace, and lets out a huff at the question. What even is a pope? He would've been whipped even more often if he had to address the ushman as pope with a straight face.

Jack kids, but he gets an actual answer: ]

Kahlil. Holiest of the Kahlirash'im. That was my title. The church is gone, though. [ He glances at Jack, and there's something in his expression that's suddenly very serious. ]

What did you see?

[ In his glimpse. He thought, maybe, that he wouldn't want to know. But he should. He should hear it. There's so much of his memory that still doesn't fit, and what Jack has seen was part of that. His other life, a fantasy he might've wished for himself once upon a time. ]

Edited 2022-10-07 05:25 (UTC)

( He'll answer the question, he will, it's just — Jack's a little easily distracted sometimes by the most irrelevant part of a conversation, so.

First: )

Wait, you're Kahlil Kyle? Really?

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