it's not your fault that you're always wrong
It had been a few days since Eloise had decided she'd grown balls big enough to play with the big boys, and frankly Jack could count the number of words he had said to her on the back of one hand. He'd attempted to lock his cabin only for her to screech at him mentally until he let her inside, and their situation since had been one of unnecessary proximity, in his opinion.
The sun was just about peeking over the ocean, sending a rolling mist ashore with the change of the season, and Jack had already been awake for some time. He hadn't left bed yet, his arms tucked behind his head, his blue eyes pinned on the wooden boards above. Around him the world snored and slept and dreamt, and he could feel a headache brewing like a storm around his temples.
Still, he kept his magic sharp as a razor, digging and weaving and honing the telepathic web draped around the reaches of his power. It felt as though his body had been held tense since Eloise had delivered her bombshell, and it was fast becoming a new normal. As was the lack of sleep. Still, he didn't feel so much like climbing over the obstacles involved in getting up just yet.
The sun was just about peeking over the ocean, sending a rolling mist ashore with the change of the season, and Jack had already been awake for some time. He hadn't left bed yet, his arms tucked behind his head, his blue eyes pinned on the wooden boards above. Around him the world snored and slept and dreamt, and he could feel a headache brewing like a storm around his temples.
Still, he kept his magic sharp as a razor, digging and weaving and honing the telepathic web draped around the reaches of his power. It felt as though his body had been held tense since Eloise had delivered her bombshell, and it was fast becoming a new normal. As was the lack of sleep. Still, he didn't feel so much like climbing over the obstacles involved in getting up just yet.
