the spaces between

JACK

Torchline's Queen has fucked off to Stormbreak for a bit, and she's rudely taken one of Jack's crew members with her. This leaves the captain with little to do and even less mischief to make than usual. And so it's boredom as much as anything else that takes him out to the Rainbow Road, his footsteps slow and certain as he watches the water erupt into the air at intervals.

Hardly anyone comes up here, he finds - either that or it's a large enough space that running into another person is more uncommon than one might think - and so it's a good excuse to let his mind wander. That sort of shit could get him killed back in Haulani, and it's a welcome break that he doesn't know he needs.

Having taken a seat on a warm rock, Jack has taken note of a small herd of ramphire traversing the iridescent pools, heading for higher ground. Their colours almost camouflage them against the road, which he supposes is the point, and he plays a game with himself to try and spot them against the landscape.

you wanted perfect, you got your perfect
but now I'm too perfect for someone like you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

my ears can hear my mouth can speak my spirit talks my soul believes

The hunter casts a stark contrast against her colorful quarry as she approaches the ramphira slowly, with no tree or rock to hide behind. Luckily the herd is mostly concerned with itself, trusting in its camouflage and its other senses, which she has fooled with a crypsis of salt water and palm fronds. She is armed with nothing but a hunting knife as she creeps closer, but it is with her empty hand that she reaches out to the nearest specimen.

A snake-like shadow seeps out of the carved runes on her forearm, undulating toward the ramphire with patient intention. The magic winds around the creature’s neck and, as the same hand tightens in a fist, the dark thread pulls taut like a noose. The quarry slumps, groaning; a comrade stirs, glimpsing the hunter; and with a round of alarmed squawks, the entire flock splashes away.

Chaele curses, retreating quickly to her pack on hard ground. Only after she has sufficiently berated herself does she notice the other figure across the way, no doubt a witness to it all. She immediately scrambles for her stag skull mask, donning it warily as she examines the stranger from afar.

Base code by Odd • Art by Krakenkatz

JACK

The other figure across the way absolutely has seen everything that has just come to pass; Jack has taken the time to light a cigarette, snickering around a whorl of smoke as he enjoys the impromptu show. "I ain't got any interest in 'em," he calls as he realises she - because it's a she, he's pretty sure - is staring him out. "But I'll watch if you wanna try it again." Even out in the middle of nowhere, Jack is evidence that there will always be someone available to laugh when you fuck up.

Shifting to rise to his feet, anything they might want to say to one another will be momentarily muted by the roar of a nearby geyser. Squinting up and into the mist of warm water, Jack wipes his brow with the back of his hand and glances back at the stranger, as if to see if she's slunk back away where she came from.

you wanted perfect, you got your perfect
but now I'm too perfect for someone like you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

my ears can hear my mouth can speak my spirit talks my soul believes

In fact she has approached much closer by the time he looks back, if only to better understand him over the various noises that obscure his voice. Maybe it’s the hunter’s instinct in her limbs or even just the vague tension of embarrassment, but it might almost seem like she is stalking toward him with a similar intention as the herd.

Still Chaele stops a clean distance from the stanger, ivory mask tilting in scrutiny of his slack posture and flippant gaze. “Best to let them let their guard down again,” she suggests, adjusting the large knot in her skirts that keeps them from dragging on the wet ground. The shaman’s flat tone does not quite reveal whether she misunderstood him or intends to correct him. “Then we can try it together.”

Base code by Odd • Art by Krakenkatz

JACK

Jack is actually busy making sure the geyser hasn't put out his cigarette when she steps close enough to trigger the range of his magic, and the captain glances up sharply to watch her movements. Wilder than the landscape and just as dangerous given the chance, hers is a mind he doesn't often get to peruse. Rolling his shoulders as if her presence is a veil that has suddenly dropped upon him, he takes another drag from the cigarette.

"Okay," he says lazily. "Why the fuck not?" Has Jack ever, in his life, hunted anything on land? No, absolutely not. But how hard could it be, right? Dropping down from his vantage point on the flattened stones, he puts himself level with Chaele and begins to close the distance between them. "You ain't from Torchline." It's not a question.

you wanted perfect, you got your perfect
but now I'm too perfect for someone like you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

my ears can hear my mouth can speak my spirit talks my soul believes

As the masked woman’s mind is laid bare, she is caught in appraisal of the empath-- in judgment of his role as competitor or predator or prey. She had not expected him to agree to the hunt, but his compliance makes her less likely to test his strength against her own. Still her hackles are up as he approaches, her words just a little too short in the reply.

“In fact, I was born there. My father was a cobbler and my mother raised chickens.” She can still remember the smells of leather and glue, the nonsense of navigating a crowd of knee-biting birds. But these memories are dismissed as her attention is drawn by the settling ramphire herd, any suggestion of sarcasm refuted by the honest concession, “But no, I am no Torcher.”

But who was to say that meant anything? On the other hand, “When was the last time you killed your own food?”

Base code by Odd • Art by Krakenkatz

JACK

A smirk curls across Jack's lips, though his gaze is directed more at her torn, wild skirts than her face. "And yet here you are," he remarks. It's not a question about her departure of the islands, but it's not not a question either. "What brings you back? Ramphire?" he asks this more upfront, blue eyes flicking up to watch the herd settling nearby.

Positioning to face the prey animals and taking another deep drag on his cigarette, Jack gives her question very little consideration, scoffing out the smoke into the air. "I don't kill for food," he drawls, the implication, of course, being that he killed for sport instead. "Why don't you show me how it's s'posed to be done, an' I'll follow your lead?"

you wanted perfect, you got your perfect
but now I'm too perfect for someone like you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

my ears can hear my mouth can speak my spirit talks my soul believes

Dark eyes flick between Jack’s sardonic expression and the cigarette that drops ash onto the ground. He reminds her of a cat: either entirely useless or capable of far more than he might like to seem. “Deepfrost,” is the answer to his spoken question, the unspoken one left to the suppositions of idle minds. Chaele tries to ignore his other implications as well, turning the hunting knife’s hilt consciously in her hand.

“There. The tired one in the back. Keep an eye on it.” A long, weathered finger juts out toward a smaller specimen, which she can safely assume is the same one that she had cursed earlier. The wild woman does not look back at Jack as she crouches instinctively, perhaps a touch too close. “We will need to get that smell off of you. Do you have a weapon?”

Base code by Odd • Art by Krakenkatz

JACK

Jack quite likes that description of himself; he imagines that Seven would appreciate it as well if he hadn't left her lounging on the deck of the Ark back in Kaiholo. Cats will be cats, after all. Bouncing his eyebrows in acceptance of her response - Torchline is definitely a more pleasant place to spend the coldest season, or so he has heard - Jack turns his attention to the sudden hunting mission he's been invited on.

Following her finger, Jack nods at the ramphire she's got her eye on, reaching down to take the knife from his boot. "A few. I've got some other tricks, too," he murmurs, raising a free hand in a come hither sort of gesture. At his influence, a refreshing breeze picks up and blows over them, directing their scent down and away from the herd. "Will that work?"

you wanted perfect, you got your perfect
but now I'm too perfect for someone like you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

my ears can hear my mouth can speak my spirit talks my soul believes

Her eyes widen as the breeze blows past them, the spark of surprise cooling into embers of stifled delight. While she cannot know for certain whether this ability comes from some item or upgrade, her instinct is to sniff the air for that metallic scent of magic. There is a sort of satisfaction in the promise of a kindred spirit, who is so wholly different from her otherwise. The exhale that follows sounds a bit like a yes.

“Keep it going,” is what she actually says, voice low as she nods in assessment of his knife. “I’ll go around to its other side, and we’ll meet in the middle. If you have a way to distract the others--” If you have anything else to show me, are the words that whisper behind the spoken ones, as Chaele hopes to confirm her suspicions. “--now is the time to do it.”

She does not wait for him to continue with the hunt, however. The ground is treacherous here, full of wide puddles that relay ripples and noise, but with practiced steps she begins to approach their target.

Base code by Odd • Art by Krakenkatz

JACK

Jack doesn't take kindly to being given orders, not usually, but since he's the one who walked into this venture, he takes a why the fuck not sort of approach. Which is all to say that he does, indeed, keep up the air manipulation around them. Humming softly at her remark, the captain splits off where indicated, blue eyes flicking over the remainder of the herd. In terms of a distraction, he's close enough that he might be able to do something, and with a pulse of willpower, he acts.

The ice that crackles around the herd isn't much, not when the heat of Torchline will melt it back to water soon enough, but it's present and it's visible and it's loud enough for several ramphire to whip their heads around at the noise. Jack has paused, however - keeping the various strings of magic engaged requires concentration, and moving forward has momentarily escaped his focus.

you wanted perfect, you got your perfect
but now I'm too perfect for someone like you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

my ears can hear my mouth can speak my spirit talks my soul believes

Chaele has nearly reached the herd’s other side, leaving a wide berth and staying wary of the wind’s movement. She is aware of every little splash of her feet, every rustle of the scent-masking fronds on her belt-- but when the icy distraction comes, she sucks in a gasp. Only one creature turns toward her as the rest flee skyward. With no time to lose, she lurches forward.

The first step is quiet, the second sprays noisily, and the third brings her in range of the smallest ramphire. Its eyes shift from panic to fear to sudden exhaustion as the shadowy leash is strung around it yet again, this time accompanied by a blade to the throat. An avian shriek cuts into a gurgle, wings flap in futile defense, but soon enough her quarry falls limp in her arms. Inky blood seeps into the bright waters as Chaele deliberates on the best way to hoist it over her shoulder, downcast eyes ignorant to the possessive ramphire mother that has stayed behind to enact her vengeance.

Base code by Odd • Art by Krakenkatz

JACK

He feeds on Chaele's dark advance, caught in every breath, every step towards the creature, and as the lasso of draining magic snags at its life force, Jack experiences the shaman's victory as if it were his own. And it's lucky, in a way, that he has done this for as long as he has; it's far too leasy to lose oneself in another's thoughts and feelings, and in his younger years he might have stood idly by to watch Chaele be trampled or otherwise injured by their quarry's mother.

Instead, blue eyes sharpen as Jack straightens up, directing the air currents this time to bring his scent over to the ramphire. Hoping to snag her attention, should he succeed he'll engage again with the currents of water that reside within him, blasting them outwards this time in a jet that rapidly cools into a veritable spear of ice. "Move," he hisses to the shaman, though it might be a touch belated.

you wanted perfect, you got your perfect
but now I'm too perfect for someone like you

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!