JACK
Deepfrost has come early to the Greatwood. That's what some of the Fae are saying, at least, especially when passing by one particular little cabin nestled at the foot of the steps that lead to the Observatory and the Skyport high above. The roof of said cabin has been covered in thick layer of snow for the best part of a day and a half, and frost can be seen coating the inside of the windows. They see people come and go from it sometimes too - people from the ship still moored high above, people dressed like they're on their way to Halo - but the cause of the impromptu blizzard hasn't yet emerged.
And the joke's on them, thinks Jack, because he can't walk right now, so they'll be waiting a while.
He wishes he could put the cold and ice down to a flair for the dramatics, but in truth (and it's a truth he can barely admit to himself, let alone anyone else) since returning to the land of the living, it feels as though he has little to no control over his magic. His telepathy comes and goes and ice, wind and ozone all vie for control; it's only bone deep exhaustion that has kept the fury of those talents contained to minutes at a time.
Just because Jack can make ice, though, it doesn't make him immune to the cold, and so within the dinky little cabin, the captain shivers in his sleep. Someone has been kind enough to stitch his wounds (the magical healer the Fae had offered had almost lost a hand to frostbite) and to sedate him, so things are, for now at least, reasonably calm.
And the joke's on them, thinks Jack, because he can't walk right now, so they'll be waiting a while.
He wishes he could put the cold and ice down to a flair for the dramatics, but in truth (and it's a truth he can barely admit to himself, let alone anyone else) since returning to the land of the living, it feels as though he has little to no control over his magic. His telepathy comes and goes and ice, wind and ozone all vie for control; it's only bone deep exhaustion that has kept the fury of those talents contained to minutes at a time.
Just because Jack can make ice, though, it doesn't make him immune to the cold, and so within the dinky little cabin, the captain shivers in his sleep. Someone has been kind enough to stitch his wounds (the magical healer the Fae had offered had almost lost a hand to frostbite) and to sedate him, so things are, for now at least, reasonably calm.
we've gone way too fast for way too long
and we were never supposed to make it half this far
and we were never supposed to make it half this far
- Secret Telepath
- Functionally Immortal (Forever 35)
- Two small star tattoos beneath his left eye
- Click for The Ark!
