JACK
If you ain't around by the end of the week, I'll know to come lookin'.
The end of the week arrives and, given that Flora still ain't around, Jack has been biding his time in the Skyport at the prow of The Ark to spy on the other ships coming and going, or those arriving to board or disembark. Because either today's the fuckin' day, or it's an invitation to play hide and seek with the Doubletake. (A game he's sure she wouldn't mind playing with him, to be honest, regardless of the obvious advantage).
He's there still when the letter arrives.
It comes dropped by a harried looking raven that immediately swoops away again with Seven hot on its heels until it has departed her territory. Jack watches the feline over one shoulder, smirks, and glances at the envelope.
He recognises his name in that handwriting immediately, and although he tries not to let it, something within him grows very, very cold, and then slowly begins to burn. Frowning, Jack leans against the rail and opens the letter.
Jack, it begins.
It's short. Curt, almost.
It's the sort of letter he might write.
I can't do it anymore.
He doesn't read the rest. Doesn't catch the apology, doesn't see the sign off, as blunt as the rest of the words had been. Doesn't need to.
Without telepathy, Jack already knows the things that aren't written down. Flora had gone to Torchline to speak with Kaisel. To tell Kaisel that, while she had feelings for him, she was coming back here, to him. To be with him.
And any idiot can read I will love you always and see but I chose the other guy hidden beneath it.
Jack can't help himself. He laughs, a rough bark of a sound that lands somewhere between disbelief and a sad, bone-deep sense of knowing. Somewhere behind him, one of the crew lets out a shout. Others join it, soon enough, and the captain can sense the vague panic erupting out on the deck. He can smell smoke; glancing down, it's with mild surprise that he discovers that the letter in his hands is on fire.
So is the rigging.
Turning, he watches with a blank expression as the men fight to put the fire out. Whistling sharply for Murphy, he instructs his first mate to set them ready to sail even as the flames try to spread, biting at the mainsail and licking along one of the masts. As Jack walks away towards his cabin, it's with his footprints burnt into the boards beneath his feet.
"Tear that down while you're at it," he calls behind him, gesturing to the top of the mast where a new garland of flowers has been meticulously crafted and hung; hibiscus, jasmine, bougainvillea, and the odd calla lily.
He won't need it any more.
~FIN
The end of the week arrives and, given that Flora still ain't around, Jack has been biding his time in the Skyport at the prow of The Ark to spy on the other ships coming and going, or those arriving to board or disembark. Because either today's the fuckin' day, or it's an invitation to play hide and seek with the Doubletake. (A game he's sure she wouldn't mind playing with him, to be honest, regardless of the obvious advantage).
He's there still when the letter arrives.
It comes dropped by a harried looking raven that immediately swoops away again with Seven hot on its heels until it has departed her territory. Jack watches the feline over one shoulder, smirks, and glances at the envelope.
He recognises his name in that handwriting immediately, and although he tries not to let it, something within him grows very, very cold, and then slowly begins to burn. Frowning, Jack leans against the rail and opens the letter.
Jack, it begins.
It's short. Curt, almost.
It's the sort of letter he might write.
I can't do it anymore.
He doesn't read the rest. Doesn't catch the apology, doesn't see the sign off, as blunt as the rest of the words had been. Doesn't need to.
Without telepathy, Jack already knows the things that aren't written down. Flora had gone to Torchline to speak with Kaisel. To tell Kaisel that, while she had feelings for him, she was coming back here, to him. To be with him.
And any idiot can read I will love you always and see but I chose the other guy hidden beneath it.
Jack can't help himself. He laughs, a rough bark of a sound that lands somewhere between disbelief and a sad, bone-deep sense of knowing. Somewhere behind him, one of the crew lets out a shout. Others join it, soon enough, and the captain can sense the vague panic erupting out on the deck. He can smell smoke; glancing down, it's with mild surprise that he discovers that the letter in his hands is on fire.
So is the rigging.
Turning, he watches with a blank expression as the men fight to put the fire out. Whistling sharply for Murphy, he instructs his first mate to set them ready to sail even as the flames try to spread, biting at the mainsail and licking along one of the masts. As Jack walks away towards his cabin, it's with his footprints burnt into the boards beneath his feet.
"Tear that down while you're at it," he calls behind him, gesturing to the top of the mast where a new garland of flowers has been meticulously crafted and hung; hibiscus, jasmine, bougainvillea, and the odd calla lily.
He won't need it any more.
~FIN
- Secret Telepath
- Functionally Immortal (Forever 35)
- Two small star tattoos beneath his left eye
- Click for The Ark!
