JACK
Hateful and necessary, then, is the flavour of the next few minutes, and Jack doesn't glance down as Vesper's foot inches out, knocking the lantern and plunging them back into darkness that feels dazzling after the eye-strain of the light. "My pleasure," he rumbles, sensing the movement of the boy behind him and waiting for it to settle before he turns on heel and continues down the tunnel he'd been traversing. It's true that Jack had also been using the light to find his direction, but there's more than one way to navigate Rae's Fingers, and with all sorts of magic at his behest, it shouldn't be all that difficult.
Shouldn't.
With a hand brushing against the wall, at first Vesper will only sense what Jack deliberately filters through - a large rock to the left that the boy will want to avoid walking into, the manipulation of an air current he then releases to sense which direction it goes, the sound of nearby water. But although the captain is one hell of a multitasker, lowering his mental shield (especially only by a fraction) is something new and untested and in need of practice, and before long, Vesper will get more than he bargained for as Jack's concentration leaves his defences to focus on the task at hand.
Like a spider's web draped delicately across to the very edges of his telepathic range, to say that the captain's magic is always on is an understatement, sharp for anything that might set it off. But that's only the bare bones of it. Above them someone is having a conversation on the surface, and it twangs a note in his magic that quickly filters through anything of value - things like his name or other monikers, things that pertain to his business, to The Ark, things that might portend danger - and then lets it go again, finding it innocuous.
Elsewhere, telepathy collides with his own thoughts, with past experience, making note of bodies buried nearby, caches of supplies or weapons or other notable items, symbols he might feel on the wall and any changes in them. He tracks the tide by the sound of it and the bleeding man he'd left by the distance - twenty paces back, two rights, a left, then down - and whether he'd be able to get out of the Fingers in time. What it will mean if he does. What it will mean if he doesn't.
Jack tracks the boy behind him, too. Footsteps, any tiny crumb of thought let loose from his mental shield. He wonders whether Vesper will try to slip a knife between his ribs in the dark. He drags ice and lightning and air to the forefront of his mind, gripping it tight, then relaxes it. He wonders if he will try to slip that knife between Vesper's ribs first. He lets the thought go.
And all the while his footsteps remain soft and steady, hearing the drip of water and imagining the way it might change if someone was near to it, the net of his telepathy dragging in his wake and consuming any and every other stray thought it encounters like a tsunami. Down here in the dead of night, the passes are quick and few and far between, but in a crowd, or in a fight, or even with the distraction of a heated argument, there's a quiet reassurance that the loose magic might grow taut and narrow at any moment, ready to focus.
"How're you doin'? he rumbles, glancing behind him even though Vesper won't be able to see it, as casual as he's always been.
Shouldn't.
With a hand brushing against the wall, at first Vesper will only sense what Jack deliberately filters through - a large rock to the left that the boy will want to avoid walking into, the manipulation of an air current he then releases to sense which direction it goes, the sound of nearby water. But although the captain is one hell of a multitasker, lowering his mental shield (especially only by a fraction) is something new and untested and in need of practice, and before long, Vesper will get more than he bargained for as Jack's concentration leaves his defences to focus on the task at hand.
Like a spider's web draped delicately across to the very edges of his telepathic range, to say that the captain's magic is always on is an understatement, sharp for anything that might set it off. But that's only the bare bones of it. Above them someone is having a conversation on the surface, and it twangs a note in his magic that quickly filters through anything of value - things like his name or other monikers, things that pertain to his business, to The Ark, things that might portend danger - and then lets it go again, finding it innocuous.
Elsewhere, telepathy collides with his own thoughts, with past experience, making note of bodies buried nearby, caches of supplies or weapons or other notable items, symbols he might feel on the wall and any changes in them. He tracks the tide by the sound of it and the bleeding man he'd left by the distance - twenty paces back, two rights, a left, then down - and whether he'd be able to get out of the Fingers in time. What it will mean if he does. What it will mean if he doesn't.
Jack tracks the boy behind him, too. Footsteps, any tiny crumb of thought let loose from his mental shield. He wonders whether Vesper will try to slip a knife between his ribs in the dark. He drags ice and lightning and air to the forefront of his mind, gripping it tight, then relaxes it. He wonders if he will try to slip that knife between Vesper's ribs first. He lets the thought go.
And all the while his footsteps remain soft and steady, hearing the drip of water and imagining the way it might change if someone was near to it, the net of his telepathy dragging in his wake and consuming any and every other stray thought it encounters like a tsunami. Down here in the dead of night, the passes are quick and few and far between, but in a crowd, or in a fight, or even with the distraction of a heated argument, there's a quiet reassurance that the loose magic might grow taut and narrow at any moment, ready to focus.
"How're you doin'? he rumbles, glancing behind him even though Vesper won't be able to see it, as casual as he's always been.
when I look at something, I see it for what it could be
when I look at something, I see how it ends
when I look at something, I see how it ends
Code stolen from Queen Sky
- Secret Telepath
- Functionally Immortal (Forever 35)
- Two small star tattoos beneath his left eye
- Click for The Ark!
