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Kindred Spirits; Jack & Snow
Topic Started: Aug 17 2016, 08:27 PM (214 Views)
StefanAnon	Aug 17 2016, 08:27 PM Post #1
D-Class Posts: 22 Group: Member Member #4,629 Joined: Aug 15, 2016	No day or night had been the same; not since the escape. Jack treasured every moment. Not as if it would be the last, but as if it were the first, because every single day he would experience new adventures, new concepts, and would meet new people that he would interact with and learn from. The journey with the caravan that he had paid to escape Bosco covertly had come to a halt that night, as the travellers stated that they were uncomfortable in allowing the former slave free passage alongside them, considering that his money had been depleted in a rapid fashion- he was yet to learn how to be conscientious regarding his spendings. As the news did not come as a surprise for the teenager, expecting one form of betrayal or another from the group of travelers, Jack agreed to leave the caravan in a peaceful manner. The town that he had unbarked in had been none other than Poinsettia. To witness this city was awe-inducing, as Jack marvelled over every single aspect of the town. Even during the late evening, when the shadows encompassed all, and were only separated by rays of light emanated by the lamp posts, buildings, and the occasional mages, the city was able to take your breath away. It had not ignored the vitality and necessity of nature- instead, it worshipped it as a goddess that had to be respected, cared for, even feared. Trees and wood would intertwine with buildings, glistening in the light of the moon as if the whole town was one unitary being. A being that worked well together. The glamorous buildings and structures, the well-dressed people, and the faintly sweet smell that enticed one's senses painted a picture of serenity and happiness. However, one would soon realise that if they were to spend a night or two in this city, they would have to use a large amount of money. Jack smirked ever so slightly, wondering if the money that he had would be enough to warrant him an alcoholic beverage- yet another aspect of a free life that he had taken a liking to. His right hand raised itself and pushed the black streaks of hair from his face to the back of his head, granting him the clarity to further inspect the intricate city as he travelled the streets in an aimless manner. "I suppose this will work." The soon-to-be young adult thought to himself as his left hand moved inside his leather jacket's inner pocket, entering the satchel and searching for the few remaining gold coins. Once his finger tips had identified at least four of them, the male entered the establishment that seemed to have cut off his straight path that he had been walking on. Coincidentally, it had been just the kind of establishment that Jack had been passively looking for. His hand pushed the door open, and, as he did not think it would be necessary at such a time of day, Jack decided not to adopt any form of persona that others would have deemed engaging and fun in such locations. Instead, he behaved as his natural self- apathetic, serious, and focused. He soon made his way to the barkeep and asked them for a pint of a yellow-tinted alcohol that he had not tried before, wondering if it would be as atrocious as the last one had proven to be. Internally, he chuckled slightly at the memory, and at the joy of being as independent as possible, but he did not exteriorise such feelings. How could he, when every step of the way, there would be a raven waiting to claw at every weakness that you had in order to bring you down? Shortly afterwards, his drink had been concocted, and he had retreated to the back end of the establishment, enjoying his solitude, and alcohol. It only took a few minutes until his joyful trance had been broken by some ungodly noise that seemed to escalate by the second. Swallowing an imaginary lump that had formed in his throat, Jack peered over at the altercation that was taking place- only to witness a hulking specimen of a man abusing another, just that the latter had such a physical condition that the wind could have blown him away if it would have tried. The former slave allowed the altercation to continue, assuming that someone else would stop it; and, yet, it seemed as if everyone else was cheering on the exhibition of brutish strength and immature behaviour. A sigh escaped Jack's lips prior to finishing his drink, his hands pressing against the shaky wooden table to raise himself up in a quiet and composed manner. He would not let that form of abuse take place- even if he did not know why he felt so passionate about that form of injustice. Perhaps it reminded of the place others would deem as home, or perhaps his travels had caused him to develop a sense of justice. Regardless, his fists clenched, as one thought surged through the man's brain, ready to act. "That is enough."
梟 Inara Serra	Aug 22 2016, 12:06 PM Post #2
Honesty without tact is cruelty. Posts: 5,454 Group: Owlministrator Member #3,790 Joined: Feb 18, 2014	Snow hadn't been home long. She had made a point of keeping her return to Poinsettia hush-hush and as such, wasn't the one tending the bar as usual. The night was drawing in outside, and her stead of flow of customers was around capacity for now. It had been a rather uneventful day, all things told. It was unexpected, considering the trouble that had been given to one of her newer hires, Kaede, in her absence. So she sat in the shadows, watching the man working the bar. He was giving very slight and unnoticeable hand signals when anyone who had caused trouble while she was gone came in. Dressed all in black she blended nearly perfectly with the shadows just behind where her bar ended, and her supply room started. It wasn't an uncomfortable position, and the huntress had waited far longer in far less accommodating places. It was rather dull. Not something she was likely to complain about out loud, but it was there in the back of her mind all the same. Now she sat and waited, and eyed each person who ordered a drink. Just in case. It seemed that, while she had been gone, several of the ne'er-do-wells in town had taken it upon themselves to cause trouble here. As if they had forgotten who the place belonged to. She smiled in the darkness; a cold sort of thing, full of a dark amusement. She would be more than happy to remind them. As the night wore on, several faces came and went. She was about to give up and head up toward her bed when the barman made a new motion with his hand. A quick little swipe under the bar, which meant trouble was brewing. She heard it before he did, her keen senses picking it up without effort. It wouldn't take much for them to explode, they way they were talking to one another. She had already moved up to the side of the bar, where she was noted by nearly every patron immediately. Except those causing the ruckus. It was a large man, and he was, of all things, about to throw a punch at a slender figure seated and cowering. She was too quick for most eyes to follow, and she was there in a flash, dark hair settling around her shoulders again as she stilled. It was the stillness, really, which drew more attention than anything. It spoke of a predator about to strike, instead of just someone come to stop a fight. There was never any doubt in her stance or demeanor as to who would be the victor of this particular little outcome. "That is quite enough I think." Her hand had closed over the larger man's, holding it, much to his surprise, back and away from the man he intended to hit. "You all seem to have forgotten who's place this is. I can remind you, violently, if you wish. But you will not lay a finger on another guest of mine. Are we clear?" The bigger man had gone pale. And when Snow smiled, all teeth and promises of blood, he went even paler. He merely nodded. "Now get the fuck out of my bar. And don't come back." The last was a growl, enough that the yellow irises of her eyes were a better warning than any of her words up until then. He marched away as she released him, only finding courage again when he reached the door of the bar, and even then not much. Just enough to boast a little. "I'll be back! With friends next time!" He wasn't quite fast enough to miss being hit by the dagger Snow threw, which shaved off a fair bit of his handle bar mustache. "I wouldn't try it. Unless you intend to bring an army." He left then, and quickly. Snow retrieved her dagger, and took a seat by the smaller man. He was shaking, and she gently put an arm around his shoulder. "Have a drink with me. It's okay now. Let's talk about why that brute was after you, shall we?" Suddenly the patrons as a collective seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Their protector was back, and this was again one of the best and safest places to be at night. Or in the day for that matter. Chatter resumed slowly, and Snow noted a young man watching her out of the corner of her eye. She didn't stay with the smaller man for long. He calmed quickly enough once he had some whiskey in him. She did approach the other boy though. The one who was looking. "Something I can help you with?"
StefanAnon	Aug 24 2016, 12:08 AM Post #3
D-Class Posts: 22 Group: Member Member #4,629 Joined: Aug 15, 2016	Jack had been preparing himself to strike for a few seconds, standing upright in some of the darkest spots of the bar as if the shadows were his sole guardians. His fist was clenched, his body was tense, and his breathing had started accelerating in accordance with his heart rate, anticipating a ferocious fight between him and the assailant. However, he could not come up with any form of a plan that would not have ended in the death of the other. The former slave had been trained to kill, not to maim or to brawl- he would go into a fight only when he knew that it was necessary, and only when he would have been prepared to deliver a minimal amount of blows. Every single blow was meant to bring the opponent closer to their death, something that he thought would be scrutinised and ostracised by the current establishment's clientele and owners. In that very moment, there were a few alternatives surging through his mind, but none non-lethal. He either would have snuck up behind the man and drove the dagger into his neck, or ask him to turn around, only to plant the rusty weapon of destruction straight into the brute's heart. Knowing very well that he was unable to defeat the gargantuan specimen in a fair fight, and that he would not be able to kill him in front of everyone else, Jack hesitated. In most cases, the male's hesitation would have resulted in the pain of the slender man; but this was not an usual case, and another saviour had surfaced out of thin air. A quick figure appeared in front of all of the men for a second, only to dash where the altercation was taking place shortly after. Or so did they assume, as the blur was too quick for everyone to discern whom, or what, it was when it was moving. Only when the figure came to a halt did Jack realise that the figure was a woman, and a physically able one at that. The former slave was surprised. While he was familiar with female figures of authority, he had never personally seen one, especially one which imposed as much authority as to silence everyone else in the establishment. It was obvious that her reputation preceded her, in the case of this bar, or even this town, but Jack knew nothing about her- which was why his senses took in as much as possible regarding the apparent warrior. His focus was on her, and on the way she dealt with the brewing fight. The woman's semblance to a man of war was uncanny, aspect reflected both in her demeanour and her physicality. She was relatively silent at first, enhancing the fear that she emanated through every single individual in the bar- including Jack- only to speak after proving great feats of strength, stopping the brute's punch and diplomatically placing him into submission. The teenager's sense of awe only furthered as his perception of her became more clear; but she still raised more questions than she had answered. How had she become so relentless, powerful, and harsh? Jack found himself pondering over those questions in an excessive manner, revealing to him that his curiosity could have potentially been beneficial to him in this situation. Gaining the answer to those questions, as well as potential training from the mysterious and alluring female would have meant a quick and steady progression towards Jack's ultimate goal. This was an opportunity that the teenager could not pass, regardless of what the female's initial perception of him would have been. The desire to communicate with the female raised another question in Jack's mind, this time regarding himself. How could he have approached her in order to maximise the rewards that he would garner from interacting with the porcelain-skinned woman? There were several potential personalities that he could have adopted. Jack could have become the heroic figure, the one that wanted to intervene but did not have enough time because of the other's skill, or he could have become the frightened and weak man that needed some help in training, tagging at the heartstring of the warrior- however, he had quickly realised that such personalities would not have been efficient, and that the most efficient personality would have been his very own. He and the female seemed to be relatively similar, something that he had merely observed via her interaction with the brutish male. Sure, she did prefer to swear and to provide mercy, but she had delivered justice in a relatively harsh and threatening manner- which was the communal point between the two. Her skills would have been beneficial, and Jack hoped that by being himself, he would have gained her trust sufficiently for her to train him, or to at least guide him in the direction that he needed to take in order to become as powerful as she was. However, spending so much time thinking and planning everything whilst you were standing up in a place where most people were seated, as well as staring at the one person that had saved the day, made you seem rather conspicuous- which was exactly how Jack looked in that moment. Due to his planning and strategizing, he had lost track of the following moments, and the next thing that he had been aware of was the fact that the slender man had calmed down, and that the female had approached him and asked him if she could help him in any way. That was the moment when Jack released the tension that had gathered inside of his body in relief, and had decided to allow himself to be natural in the conversation that would follow. "Yes, actually, I believe that you can. You see, I would like to ask you a few questions? I am seeking some guidance and some training, and seeing what you have just done makes me think that you are the person that could help me get what I need." Jack was fully aware that he seemed selfish, saying all of those things in a neutral tone, almost completely void of inflexions and emotions; but not only had she asked, it was what he truly needed from her, and he was not going to pretend otherwise. There was something about the female, perhaps the way that she had handled herself prior to the current conversation, that made Jack believe that she would have appreciated his honesty and straightforward nature. Even if the former slave would have never admitted it, between the current events, the female's appearances and demeanour, and the alcohol that he had consumed on an untrained kidney, Jack had been feeling less than his usual self in that moment, losing touch with his completely sober and aware knowledge of his surroundings that he innately possessed. It could have been that slight temporary lapse in awareness that had caused him to be as daring as he was in that moment, but the soon-to-be young adult was not one to pointlessly ponder over finished deeds, preferring to leave the past in the past. Edited by StefanAnon, Aug 24 2016, 12:11 AM.
梟 Inara Serra	Aug 26 2016, 04:30 AM Post #4
Honesty without tact is cruelty. Posts: 5,454 Group: Owlministrator Member #3,790 Joined: Feb 18, 2014	Snow raised a skeptical eyebrow, the dark arch going higher than usual even, in slight disbelief. Her, teach someone something? That was a new and novel thing. Then again, thinking of previous adventures, and how often she had had to teach someone how to track, or how to hide, or how to judge an opponent and their weakness, maybe it wasn't so far fetched as she had originally thought. The eyebrow fell down a notch. Her eyes had returned to their normal gray hue before she looked at the young man. Now she looked at him anew. She had never had anyone ask her for training in any specific area. Not in all her long adventures. The teaching she had done had happened sort of without thought, and without real effort on her part. "Why don't you sit down?" She gestured to the table which he had clearly recently vacated. The murmurs of the crowd drowned out, for the most part, their conversation. She was okay with that. She was never one who was much for people overhearing her, nor generally even on who was wasteful with words. She was taciturn by nature, and that was not going to suddenly change. Even for some wide-eyed youth who had taken a shine to the way she did things. Without waiting for him to take a seat, she took one herself at the self-same table she had noted earlier. A half-drunk butterbeer stood there, and she motioned for the barkeep to bring her something as well. A small tumbler of whiskey appeared in front of her as if by magic, and then the man was gone again. "Perhaps, I am slow to understand. But, you know nothing of me beyond what you just observed. I could be any kind of person at all." It was her nature as well to be suspicious of people, and to distrust those she didn't know. Few and far between could scale that particular brick wall of silence. "Besides which," she continued without pause, "I don't know you." There was a sort of cold finality behind that. Anyone who knew her at all knew that she wasn't prone to making new friends for this particular character trait. She didn't trust easily, for various reasons. One of which was mainly her own need for secrecy surrounding her own history and magic. It wasn't as if the boy could have expected her to simply give over without thought. Ice clinked in her glass as she took a sip of the whiskey. "Now. I haven't ever had a pupil, and I wouldn't exactly be willing to train some random person off the street. While I can see that you are in earnest in your request, that doesn't mean I am required to honor it." She smiled a little, nicely. Well, as close to it as possible. It was hard for her to say anything kind, let alone do anything overtly kind without knowing someone well. If the boy had thought that she would simply let him be trained in all her arts, he was mistaken. This wasn't something she would acquiesce to without some good reason for doing so. And so far, he hadn't worked nearly hard enough to gain either her respect or her good will. "I assume you were standing that way because you intended to do something about that fight. And while that bodes well for you, it still isn't enough for you to be a student of mine." She said it as gently as she could before leaving the table. "It was nice to meet you though. My name is Snow White. Welcome to the Lavender Dog." And with that she resumed her post behind the bar, watching people mill around, but keeping a closer eye now on the boy who had wanted to be her student. What an interesting proposal.
StefanAnon	Aug 30 2016, 09:41 PM Post #5
D-Class Posts: 22 Group: Member Member #4,629 Joined: Aug 15, 2016	Seeing himself in the situation at hand, Jack's mind had partially drifted to his past, to the times where he did not have to request to be taught a certain skill, as the need for skilled slaves and thieves was high. The exceeding need to train the next generation into tools that could be used, and that could subsequently teach other tools in the future, was high enough for them to enroll Jack into the informal program held at the royal mansion where he was held. The former slave was the only individual in the programme, and, whilst harboring a peculiar feeling, he had accepted the "honour" and dismissed and peculiarities regarding the circumstances at hand- happily training in whatever one would be willing to teach him. What he had been taught, however, was something that he had not initially expected. His master had ordered for Jack to become a thief, seeing a sense of greatness in him that could have only been achieved by succumbing him into what was deemed as the "dark arts" by the eccentric figure of authority. And so he had. The teenager had started assimilating skills that no ordinary civilian would have been able to accomplish without the proper amount of training and perseverance. His teacher, a tall and muscular man, quiet and reserved, was the one that had taught him most of the things that Jack had ever learned. He taught the male how to pickpockets by forcing him into a room of other slaves, asking him to retrieve three items from their pockets before returning to him. He taught the male how to pick locks by forcing him to break into the library at night. He even helped the former slave develop his ability to assimilate and replicate personalities, amongst other various skills, that would later be used by the teenager in order to aid him in his survival inside, and outside, of the mansion's walls. However, his teacher had always refused to teach Jack how to fight in a proper manner, stating that he personally did not know how to fight. The teenager saw past the illusion of stated physical weakness and believed that such a fervent disapproval of him learning to fight was at the request of his master, afraid that he would become too powerful to be contained within the boundaries of the royal residence. Little did Master Roshinko know, for Jack did not require physical skill, but mental acuity, to escape his grasp- something that he himself had focused on providing his apprentice. And now, there was the teenager, almost turned into an adult, looking to get the training that he believed deserved, and that would complete his physical skill set. If only the prospective teacher would not have been as stubborn as she was. The soon-to-be young adult was invited to sit down at the table that he had previously departed, and so he did, following the female's lead. He was not certain as to where the conversation was going to go, but he knew that he had a goal in mind and that he would not stop until he would have achieved that goal. He had not been expelled from the residences, which he deemed as a good sign; however, bad signs balanced the tide- as always. She had sat down with him, and did not seem particularly happy with the premise of training another, which made Jack realise that it would have taken much more effort from him to get her to teach him her crafts. "From what I observed, I am interested in your skill, not you. You seem to be... reserved, quiet, but decisive and powerful. I want your skill, not your friendship." He replied to her comment about him not knowing her. Sure, Jack was being blunt, straightforward, and perhaps even rude, but he believed that the two of them were sufficiently similar to skip the pleasantries and be their own individual selves. Because of the ability to be himself, he expressed himself as clearly as he could, careful not to try and become someone else in order to gain what he wanted- a difficult task ever since escaping Bosco. The most pivotal part of the conversation, and of the relationship between the two, was expressed quickly afterwards. The female stated that she did not know him, with such a venomous tone that solidified Jack's theory that the two of them were far more similar than she would have thought. She seemed to be wary of those that surrounded her, and did not seem to trust others easily- an aspect that was reflected in the male himself, riddled with paranoia that subsequently obliterated his trust in others. This realisation had been contrasted with her words into a mixture of feelings that rendered the male temporarily speechless. He glanced at the other, pursed his lips, and nodded whenever she would speak, his eyes taking in every physical trait observable regarding her, whilst his ears would pick up on any minor inflexions in her voice. He proceeded to nod and listen to her as she spoke, only to see her disappear after introducing herself; situating herself behind the bar once again. Jack had been left there to process the best way for him to make himself seem worthy of her training. It was a difficult task, as he could not cause any violent situations, but only solve them. Perhaps even more sincerity would have swayed her in his favour, even if merely slightly. With those thoughts reverberating throughout his mind, he pushed himself upwards and walked towards the bar, sitting down on a stool and facing Snow. "I'm Jack. Jack Southerland. And, while you don't know me, and you have never trained anyone before, I am asking you to train me. Not because you have to, but because I need to train." He looked down and chuckled slightly, processing words as soon as they flew off his tongue and into the air. "Why? Because..." Jack stopped and leaned towards Snow, whispering this time, afraid that he might have been heard by anyone that would have reported back to his previous master "Because I used to be a slave. I escaped, I trained, I survived. But I cannot survive forever without becoming stronger, without your help. I'll do anything to prove I'm worthy." Thus, there he was. The jack of all trades, the thief amongst thieves, the illusory personality; being honest to another being. It had been the first time in his life when he had ever stated those words, and the emotion and vulnerability in expressing himself came flooding through them. Hopefully, it would have been enough for Snow to reconsider. Otherwise, Jack's sacrificed privacy would have been in vain.
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