JACK
Jack responds to no one, because he hears no one, not for a good, long while after the dust (goo?) settles and he can feel the true pain raking at his core and radiating outward. Everything feels muffled; moving, his magic, his mind. Sweat coats the back of his neck even as his lungs burn for air he keeps trying to catch, and he turns his head in time to see the others departing across the sand towards the healing fountain - not somewhere he intends to go, thank you.
The Ark is close, and with a stash of healing water in his cabin, she's home, and he has no intention of keeping himself from her deck for a moment longer.
But there is the matter of the corpse. He's uninterested in the pelt and claws - they can rot for all he cares. But the body?
"Her name was Zef," he rasps into the open air, too quiet, he thinks, for anyone to see him. Her face is hardly recognisable, but he'd met her mere days before, out in King's End. He recognises the horns, the tail, the clothing. And, reaching forward, it's with fumbling fingers that he does what he did with the unicorn back in Mourn - he takes the knife from his boot, and collects one of her horns as a memento.
It takes a while to get across the beach, but Jack does it on his own two feet, gods damn it. He's got a lot to think about after this.
The Ark is close, and with a stash of healing water in his cabin, she's home, and he has no intention of keeping himself from her deck for a moment longer.
But there is the matter of the corpse. He's uninterested in the pelt and claws - they can rot for all he cares. But the body?
"Her name was Zef," he rasps into the open air, too quiet, he thinks, for anyone to see him. Her face is hardly recognisable, but he'd met her mere days before, out in King's End. He recognises the horns, the tail, the clothing. And, reaching forward, it's with fumbling fingers that he does what he did with the unicorn back in Mourn - he takes the knife from his boot, and collects one of her horns as a memento.
It takes a while to get across the beach, but Jack does it on his own two feet, gods damn it. He's got a lot to think about after this.
you're the last of a dying breed; write our names in the wet concrete
I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me
I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me
Code stolen from Queen Sky
- Secret Telepath
- Functionally Immortal (Forever 35)
- Two small star tattoos beneath his left eye
- Click for The Ark!
