JACK
Safrin appears and the world seems to exhale a breath it's been holding since she last graced it with her presence, and Jack does the same. "We both know that ain't true," he rumbles with a soft thread of laughter in his voice. Whether it's via the overwhelming force of being so close to her or for other far more obvious reasons, Jack ends up on his knees before the goddess either way.
This way, at least, it might be seen as a voluntary act of respect.
Warmed within the crown of celestial light, he turns his face up towards Safrin much like the sleeping buds she's roused, and as the blaze of her mind - what little she permits him to taste, anyway - grazes against his magic, it's like a fever he can't break. Doesn't want to any more, in fact, content to let the starfire and cosmos burn along the frayed, taut lines of his telepathy until there's nothing but the goddess and her desires.
"Ain't much of me worth lookin' at these days," he says apologetically; fun as it would be to prostrate himself before her, the mask he wears to be out in the world is useless against a goddess, and all he has to offer is bloody-minded effort and bitter survival, a man gripping a knife by the blade because it's the only thing left to hold onto and keep from falling.
Inhaling the scent of her as she draws closer and offering his arm for her perusal, the answer to her question is an easy one at least. "The latter, if it ain't too much trouble. I don't find myself wantin' to be anywhere else, most days."
This way, at least, it might be seen as a voluntary act of respect.
Warmed within the crown of celestial light, he turns his face up towards Safrin much like the sleeping buds she's roused, and as the blaze of her mind - what little she permits him to taste, anyway - grazes against his magic, it's like a fever he can't break. Doesn't want to any more, in fact, content to let the starfire and cosmos burn along the frayed, taut lines of his telepathy until there's nothing but the goddess and her desires.
"Ain't much of me worth lookin' at these days," he says apologetically; fun as it would be to prostrate himself before her, the mask he wears to be out in the world is useless against a goddess, and all he has to offer is bloody-minded effort and bitter survival, a man gripping a knife by the blade because it's the only thing left to hold onto and keep from falling.
Inhaling the scent of her as she draws closer and offering his arm for her perusal, the answer to her question is an easy one at least. "The latter, if it ain't too much trouble. I don't find myself wantin' to be anywhere else, most days."
no more than I was or than I want to be
when you fall on me like night, I wanna kill the lights
when you fall on me like night, I wanna kill the lights
- Secret Telepath
- Functionally Immortal (Forever 35)
- Two small star tattoos beneath his left eye
- Click for The Ark!
