[SE] lickety-split

JACK

"So you an' your sisters are takin' over The Hanged Man?" Jack's question is purely for the sake of appearances - they all know that's the case, the captain elbowing his way out of the door of some sub-par drinking hole that's become his regular since the Flora of it all. "With her highness's blessin', too?" He whistles low under his breath. "An' here I thought you'd all end up bein' painted with the same shitty brush as me."

He's not upset about it - on the contrary, once he doesn't have to suffer the barbed thoughts of a dozen of Flora's nearest and dearest whenever he gets near the place, it'll be nice to have somewhere decent to drink and do business again. For now though, it's here or bust, and he's not in the mood for bust tonight.

Someone else is, though, and Jack clocks the violent intent over his right shoulder just before the blow swings through, allowing him to neatly side-step the liquored up chunk of a man who has tried to take a swing at him. He stumbles and falls hard onto the boardwalk, and despite his friends being arguably on his side, a couple of them can't help but bark out a laugh at the spectacle. "You wanna try that again?" Jack scoffs, grinning crookedly and nudging the downed man with the toe of his boot.

if you try and chase the sun you're never gonna catch it

"Caly talked to her about it before." Before of course referring to the shitstorm that had whirled up between captain and queen, and was still goin', at least in some parts of Caido (aka whatever parts Flora was in). Shrugging his shoulders, not unlike his dear old dad Vesper was a bit of a glutton for gossip, but Flora's mind was the sort of hostile minefield he didn't want to find himself anywhere near.

Stepping through the stink of cheap rum and half-spat curses, he eyes the brawler's friends, all silver rings and lazy steps, the scuff of boots soft against the sun-bleached planks. Shadows peel off him in loose ribbons, not aggressive yet, but itching to be released.

A flick of his fingers has one of the shadows curl back up his forearm, and he pops a sprig of peppermint bark into his mouth like this is just another stroll. "Don’t think he’s in the mood for sharin’," he drawls, voice warm at the edges but iron-flat underneath. His constellation freckles shimmer faintly, and the star beside his left eye catches the light as he glances down at the man on the boardwalk.

"I’d say walk it off, but you look the type to crawl."

And now it's turning out to be the worst of my bad habits

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

JACK

"Glad to hear she got the deal nailed down 'fore shit went sideways in that case," Jack rumbles, chewing on a thin stick of liquorice he produces from his pocket, and if his gestures are similar to Vesper's in any way, shape or form, he doesn't want to hear about it. Either way, soon enough they have a brawler at their feet and several of his friends starting to flank them; if Jack was so inclined he could probably rifle through their minds to find out what he's apparently definitely done to earn such ire, but he's got more important things to do.

"Oh I dunno. He seems the generous sort," the captain quips, hopping back a step as the man on the boardwalk spits a curse at Vesper and takes an uncoordinated swipe at Jack's boot. It's at that moment that one of the thug's friends surges forward too, and while a little bit of shadow and magic would be enough to end this right-quick, something dark and bloody unfurls in Jack's expression that suggests he could do with a good old-fashioned fist fight, actually.

Instead of ducking out of the way this time, Jack steps into the strike, his elbow coming up to crack brutally across his opponent's jaw, joined a second later by his knee, which drives into the man's gut and puts him on the ground beside his comrade.

if you try and chase the sun you're never gonna catch it

The boardwalk thrums with the kind of energy that always comes just before a storm breaks—sunlight sharp, sweat sour in the air, tension coiling tight around the edges of each footstep. Vesper rolls his tongue along the peppermint bark tucked in his cheek, more out of habit than taste now, and watches Jack crack his elbow across a jaw like it’s a chore he’s been lookin’ forward to all week.

He doesn’t have to be in Jack’s mind to see the hunger in his eyes. That blood-bright glint, hot and mean. Something in Vesper shifts—not quite mirroring it, but answering. Shadows twitch at his heels, eager, but he ignores ’em.

Instead, he vanishes in a sharp breath of air and black smoke—misty-steps fast and clean—and reappears behind one of the brawler’s friends just as the man takes a swing meant for where Vesper was.

He’s not a brawler. Not really. But the timing’s sweet, and the look on the guy’s face as Vesper appears behind him is even sweeter. He rears back and throws a punch—not elegant, not trained, but committed—that clips the guy just behind the ear. Bone and cartilage crunch under the knuckles of his ring-heavy hand, and the thug staggers sideways into the edge of a fish crate with a yelp.

"Damn," Vesper mutters, shaking out his hand with a wince. "Y’got a head like a brick wall."

And now it's turning out to be the worst of my bad habits

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

JACK

Suddenly everything is happening all at once, as is often the case with uncoordinated brawls when most of the participants are too drunk to do more than stagger about. Boardwalk-man is up and at 'em again though, Jack notes, though his attention is mostly on Vesper as he neatly disappears out of reach of a left hook. With a feral smile meant both for the boy and his opponent, his mind sharpens with the sudden frenzy of barely-there thoughts.

They are outnumbered, alas, and all the telepathy in the world can't do much against a lot of punches being thrown, but Jack still gives as good as he gets. Taking a glancing blow on his left cheekbone and snarling a curse under his breath as someone grabs him from behind, his head snaps back to crack the assailant in the nose. The iron tang of blood hits the air and he's free again in moments, shoulder barging someone else to the ground and resisting the urge to grab for the knife in his boot. Not yet, not while they're still having so much fun.

if you try and chase the sun you're never gonna catch it

A punch comes from the side—sloppy, wild, but it lands. Vesper takes it in the stomach, breath knocked clean out of him, pain lancing up through his ribs like a lightning rod. His recent tussle with the Lamplighter hasn't healed, and for a heartbeat, all he can taste is blood and peppermint. His vision flickers at the edges as he snarls softly through his teeth, not from anger but effort, dragging himself upright with shadows snapping at his heels like irritated dogs.

"Motherfu—" He rears back for a proper revenge swing, his silver-ringed fist curling tight, knuckles already smeared with someone else's sweat. It's meant for the idiot who gut-punched him—but the sudden shove from behind sends him staggering half a step off-course. His fist doesn’t meet the thug's nose.

It connects—cleanly, sharply—with Jack's jaw, and the resulting shock of it is enough for his mental walls to briefly shimmer and weaken, enough for the overwhelming pulse of oh shit to echo out.

And now it's turning out to be the worst of my bad habits

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

JACK

Slowly, Jack's telepathy is starting to adjust to the different flavours of chaos in the air. He can sample one sweat-soaked thought and touch on another half formed idea to swing at his head simultaneously, the captain settling into a savage dance that has most hits missing him and others barely leaving their mark. What he can't account for, of course, is the one wildcard in the mix, the one mind forever shrouded in a fog of war neither man is willing to lower - not on purpose.

So it is that as Vesper's misplaced punch comes sailing for his jaw, Jack absolutely doesn't see it coming, and it hits him hard. Staggering to the side, blood in his teeth and a cut from the imprint of one of Vesper's silver rings already starting to welt and ooze red, Jack isn't the only one who stops, surprised. All the thugs do, the captain straightening up and feeling his own mental walls warble and flicker, enough for a what the fuck? response to slip through.

"Huh," he says, voice hoarse and mind spinning, his crooked smile too red to be entirely genuine. Before their opponents can recover, Jack steps in, his fist already raised to neatly pop Vesper in the face in return. He doesn't insult him by pulling the punch either, rolling his shoulders and offering a quick nod, before swinging hard once more at one of the other gathered men as if to remind them all what they're meant to be doing.

if you try and chase the sun you're never gonna catch it

Vesper reels from the silent what the fuck that slips through Jack’s normally shrouded walls, a crack in the psychic static that makes his brow lift—not in guilt, but in quiet surprise. The imprint of his ring is already blooming in red down Jack’s jawline, a perfect echo of the last thing he’d meant to do. A shared secret written in blood and bruise. His mouth twitches just slightly, more wince than smirk, but it vanishes the moment Jack’s fist comes for him.

He takes it square in the cheek.

It’s a clean hit, no hesitation. Not hard enough to break anything, but hard enough to make his head snap to the side, constellation freckles catching the light in a disjointed ripple across his skin. He staggers half a step, then straightens slowly, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek where the skin is already going tender.

A low, breathless laugh escapes him. "Fair’s fair," he grunts, before spitting a wad of peppermint-flavoured blood onto the ground.

He wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, then taps the side of his jaw with two fingers, before rolling his neck, shadow magic twitching with the taste of adrenaline, and then turns as Jack does—back into the fray, no questions asked.

One of the remaining thugs hesitates, clearly re-evaluating whether this was ever worth it. Vesper flashes him a slow grin, ringed fingers flexing as shadows unfurl at his back like coiled smoke. "Ah, ah, ahhh," he sings wickedly, picking up the stray thoughts of fuck this, let's get the fuck outta here and twisting his shadows around the man's ankles in the hopes that when he throws his shoulder against his chest, the man will just topple over.

And now it's turning out to be the worst of my bad habits

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

JACK

Adrenaline is definitely one of Jack's preferred mistresses, when he isn't on his knees with his head between a goddess's thighs; numbing the pain in his jaw, his torn knuckles and the rest of his body and keeping his movements smooth and cat-like, it allows him to swerve to the side and let one of the thugs barrel into his friend. And listen, that makes two bouts of friendly fire, so it isn't like they aren't all fucking up to some extent.

Noting the coil of Vesper's shadows at his back like the dark tails of some mythical fox, the captain is also starting to feel the itch of magic in his fingers, and if the shadows yanking at the man's feet don't do the trick, perhaps the suddenly ice-slick boards beneath him will. Feeling frost and static try to fight for purchase against the tight bindings of his willpower, it's only as the first truly bloody intent crackles against his magic - and the glint of a knife in the dark appears - that Jack lets loose a little.

The air fills with the scent of ozone just before the whipcrack of lightning hits the man's hand - a hand balled into a fist and brandishing a blade set for Vesper's back. A hand that can't actually drop the blade that's now melting and fusing against his scorched skin, not that Jack feels any pity for the wretch whose agonised howl rakes across the proceedings.

if you try and chase the sun you're never gonna catch it

The scream cuts through the heat of the brawl like a blade, sharp and high and full of panic. Vesper pivots on instinct, shadows coiling tight like a noose as he catches the scent of scorched metal and ozone still buzzing in the air. The man with the melted knife is crumpled just behind him, clutching his ruined hand, steam rising from blistered knuckles. The demigod doesn’t flinch, just exhales slow and steady, the tip of his tongue brushing the inside of his cheek again, tasting copper and static.

Jack’s lightning still crackles faintly in the air between them—enough that the hairs on Vesper’s arms lift—the scent of it clinging like a promise of a far greater reckoning to come. A small part of him wants to say something—thanks, maybe. Or even I had it handled. Or aww shucks, you shouldn’t have. But none of it makes it past the sharp line of his teeth.

Instead, he shifts his weight and lets the shadows at his back lash forward like twin whips, catching one of the stragglers across the knees and hauling him face-first into the boards. The thud is satisfying; the groan after even more so.

Vesper turns to glance at Jack, slow and deliberate, bruised jaw set but eyes still bright. "We keepin' score now? If so, I reckon that just put you ahead," he says, voice low and a little hoarse, but dry as ever. He lifts a brow, silver rings catching the light as he flexes his fingers again, the ache in his ribs now part of the rhythm as much as the beat of his own heart in his knuckles.

And now it's turning out to be the worst of my bad habits

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

JACK

Panting, more from the physical exertion than any extension of his magic, Jack watches another one of the group crack to the ground from Vesper's shadows with dark satisfaction in his gaze. He shakes out hands still rimed with frost and crackling with static, pointedly ignoring the man as his cries of pain lower to sobs of shock and disbelief. Even a dip in the healing fountain won't separate molten steel from his skin, he doesn't think, and part of him very much hopes that's the case.

Spitting blood to the ground that lands with a sharp tinkle of something already frozen, he hisses out a sound that might be a scoff of laughter, wiping at his mouth and wincing at the tender reminder of having been punched in the fucking face, Vesper. "Nah. We'll call this one a draw. C'mon," he grates, shooting a glance at the remaining drunken idiots - who wisely back up - before continuing away from the bar as if they'd never been interrupted.

"Good swing on you," Jack remarks. "Break anythin' doin' it?"

if you try and chase the sun you're never gonna catch it

Vesper falls into step beside Jack, flexing the fingers of his right hand with a slow, deliberate rhythm. His silver rings are smeared with skin and grime, the pattern of them now etched faintly into the backs of his knuckles like some quiet punishment. There’s blood caught under one of the bands, sharp and dry. He doesn’t flinch, instead just rolling his wrist and breathing past the sting.

"Nah, nothin’s broken," he mutters, tone smooth as a slack tide, "but a few parts’ve voted for early retirement." He tilts his head, eyes flicking toward the path that winds off toward the fountain. "Wouldn’t mind a quick pass by the fountain, if it’s all the same to you."

He works his jaw once more, wincing faintly, then exhales through his nose and tosses a half-glance toward Jack. "Safrin’s got me on a quest. Workin’ on extendin’ the reach of my shadows." Rolling his shoulders, he calls back his shadows like obedient dogs.

"Seems like the stronger I am, the stronger they are, which, given tonight’s little performance, explains why I feel like someone dropped an anchor down my spine." He runs his thumb along one ring idly, more fidget than concern, as he exhales a breath that seems to empty out the entirety of his lungs.

"I hear the two Vi/Mort demigods are plannin' on puttin' up a box ring. Might be that I need to visit it a time or two so I don't feel so fuckin' winded all the time."

And now it's turning out to be the worst of my bad habits

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

JACK

Good, Jack nearly says, before opting to examine his own hands in the dim light instead, the knuckles torn by the sharp arc of someone's teeth, one of his fingers feeling particularly upset by the way it had been bent or wrenched in the scuffle. "Wouldn't say no," he rumbles his agreement, his footsteps altering to take them deeper in towards the city and the fountain. "Proud as you ought'a be for that punch, I don't fancy carryin' the souvenir with me if it's all the same."

Said souvenir is throbbing its protest in time with his pulse, Jack resisting the urge to prod at his cheek because he already knows what he'll find there - blood, swelling, and the early signs of one helluva bruise. "Oh?" Glancing back at the shadows all but nipping at Vesper's heels, the captain nods gently - strength is everything these days, in whatever shape it might come. "What's she got you doin'?" he asks.

As for those Vi/Mort demigods, Jack snorts under his breath. "Good for cardio, but I wouldn't rely on it to learn to actually fight," he mutters. "Not in any way that'd count." Too many rules, in his opinion. Even the White Knight's version of playing dirty is far too squeaky clean for him.

if you try and chase the sun you're never gonna catch it

Vesper huffs a soft breath—more a laugh’s shadow than the real thing—as they turn toward the city’s heart, boots echoing in uneven rhythm along the boardwalk. He doesn’t glance over when Jack mentions the souvenir; just lets a crooked smirk tug at the corner of his mouth, the same side that’s already turning an elegant shade of plum. "Can’t blame you. Might be the most committed punch I’ve ever thrown. Shame it landed where it did."

He falls quiet for a moment, shoulders rolling back as if to settle the weight of his shadows more comfortably. They coil close, subdued now, but still tense—like hounds that haven’t quite been let off the leash. "Gotta use 'em to make somethin' easier," he begins. "Then to make somethin' harder." The boy smirks at that; it's low hanging fruit of course, but fuck it if he doesn't plan on taking the the gutter-interpretation of his mother's task. "Then to go somewhere that's dark and see what difference it makes." He flexes his fingers again, the rings biting gently into his skin. "Not exactly straight lines between the task and the goal, but that’s her style, ain’t it?"

At the comment about the ring, Vesper snorts quietly, brushing a thumb along the silver star at his jaw like it itches. "Didn’t plan on takin’ notes from Vi’s poster boy," he replies, tone dry as driftwood. "Just figured I might learn how not to get winded after three punches and a teleport. I ain’t lookin’ to win belts—just not get gutted if somethin’ faster than me decides it’s my time."

He glances sidelong at Jack, the glint in his eye sharp as a tossed coin. "Unless that's your way of offerin' to teach me the ropes yourself."

And now it's turning out to be the worst of my bad habits

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3