JACK
hellraiser
risk taker
risk taker
"Then you be the finest bait on two legs Caido's ever seen," Jack says simply, glancing sidelong at her with his smile turning wolfish. Far be it for him to stop her, especially when they both know all too well how eagerly people will follow in her wake, and that's whether or not her magic is coaxing them along. He releases the lock of fiery hair he's been absently coiling around one of his fingers, as if already preparing for her departure, though he can't help but snort at the direction her thoughts take.
"Spare me, I don't need to be told to know when I'm crampin' your style," he says, the jest as rough as it is playful, and as The Ark rises to her feet Jack tips her a wink for her trouble. "Don't be late," he calls after her, voice also pitched loud enough to be heard by hungry ears pretending not to pay attention.
Truth be told, the Captain is equally as keen to see who and what she becomes apart from him, and it's no lie that personal freedom and independence is a fierce trait that flows through the both of them. Jack has always considered The Ark as going home, but much of the road he has walked has been alone, and that settles around him now like an old coat, familiar and well-worn.
He doesn't follow at first, knowing how to track her siren's wake even beyond the range of his magic - and besides that, every mind that catches a glimpse of her practically screams the direction she's walked in. So Jack sits to enjoy the last bit of sunset for a few minutes, rising to his feet at last to spark a cigarette and stroll along the boardwalk. The food stalls here are still out in full swing; lemon sorbet, cinammon grilled pineapple, seared ahi and so many others that the Captain barely bothers to glance.
In truth it's the melody of it he's more interested in, voice and thought twining together to start to patch the holes his telepathic net that have been singed and burnt away for seasons. With his hands in his pockets and his cigarette between his lips, Jack walks Torchline like it's his personal back yard, but he does continue to cast out for The Ark and where she might be finding her own amusement.
"Spare me, I don't need to be told to know when I'm crampin' your style," he says, the jest as rough as it is playful, and as The Ark rises to her feet Jack tips her a wink for her trouble. "Don't be late," he calls after her, voice also pitched loud enough to be heard by hungry ears pretending not to pay attention.
Truth be told, the Captain is equally as keen to see who and what she becomes apart from him, and it's no lie that personal freedom and independence is a fierce trait that flows through the both of them. Jack has always considered The Ark as going home, but much of the road he has walked has been alone, and that settles around him now like an old coat, familiar and well-worn.
He doesn't follow at first, knowing how to track her siren's wake even beyond the range of his magic - and besides that, every mind that catches a glimpse of her practically screams the direction she's walked in. So Jack sits to enjoy the last bit of sunset for a few minutes, rising to his feet at last to spark a cigarette and stroll along the boardwalk. The food stalls here are still out in full swing; lemon sorbet, cinammon grilled pineapple, seared ahi and so many others that the Captain barely bothers to glance.
In truth it's the melody of it he's more interested in, voice and thought twining together to start to patch the holes his telepathic net that have been singed and burnt away for seasons. With his hands in his pockets and his cigarette between his lips, Jack walks Torchline like it's his personal back yard, but he does continue to cast out for The Ark and where she might be finding her own amusement.
full speed ahead
'til i'm dead in the fast lane
'til i'm dead in the fast lane
- Secret Telepath
- Functionally Immortal (Forever 35)
- Two small star tattoos beneath his left eye
- Click for The Ark!
