JACK
see me falling
yeah, down and lonely
yeah, down and lonely
Flinching in rare surprise as Flora balks against his touch, spiderwebs of panic surge along Jack's magic and have his arms slipping back away from her, the captain clenching and unclenching his fingers a few times as if to prevent the frost from coating them in his shock. "S'okay," he mumbles, rubbing at his eyes and letting out a long breath as he forces himself to relax back against the pillows.
He keeps his telepathy open for as long as he can before the way Flora's thoughts twist and tumble grows too dizzying and profoundly far reaching. In the end he's forced to drag up a wall if only so he can turn her down if not shut her out entirely, enough that he can hear the sound of her mental voice but not the nuances of her words. That, in fact, becomes quite an unexpected lullaby for the captain, and before he knows it, he's passed out in Flora's bed.
Not for long, of course. The Doubletake doesn't have the monopoly on PTSD nightmares, and as the hours tick on, even the constant warble of Flora's mind isn't enough to drown out the memory of silence, black and cold as the blade that had punched through his stomach. Jack doesn't awaken screaming, the captain instead shooting to half sit up with a sharp inhale of breath, dazed but no less aware of his own shortcomings when it comes to sleep.
Grumbling, he flops back to the pillows and rubs his eyes, debating some fountain water in case it can heal away his bad night's sleep.
He keeps his telepathy open for as long as he can before the way Flora's thoughts twist and tumble grows too dizzying and profoundly far reaching. In the end he's forced to drag up a wall if only so he can turn her down if not shut her out entirely, enough that he can hear the sound of her mental voice but not the nuances of her words. That, in fact, becomes quite an unexpected lullaby for the captain, and before he knows it, he's passed out in Flora's bed.
Not for long, of course. The Doubletake doesn't have the monopoly on PTSD nightmares, and as the hours tick on, even the constant warble of Flora's mind isn't enough to drown out the memory of silence, black and cold as the blade that had punched through his stomach. Jack doesn't awaken screaming, the captain instead shooting to half sit up with a sharp inhale of breath, dazed but no less aware of his own shortcomings when it comes to sleep.
Grumbling, he flops back to the pillows and rubs his eyes, debating some fountain water in case it can heal away his bad night's sleep.
are the angels on their way
i’m in the dirt
i’m in the dirt
- Secret Telepath
- Functionally Immortal (Forever 35)
- Two small star tattoos beneath his left eye
- Click for The Ark!
