exsilium | (no subject)

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(no subject)

[Jack appears on the network. It looks as if he isn't aware he's being filmed at first; he glances around him nervously, his eyes darting from place to place.]

So-- right. You guys don't got no newsies, yeah? But I'm grown outta that business anyway, so I figure, I'll do somethin' else anyway.

[And now he focuses on the camera. His eyes are a little sunken in; his cheekbones jut out sharply from his face. The entire effect is unpleasant; he looks like he hasn't slept or eaten in quite some time. Carefully, each movement deliberate, he takes a cigarette out of his pocket; his gaze focuses on that as he speaks.]

I draw pictures. Real good, if I do say so myself. Do paints, too. You want your picture done? You want your wall painted? Maybe you're in theater, you want some sets done, or maybe you want somebody to put a, a, a mural on your wall. If it's somethin' to do with art, I can do it. I don't give a damn what it is. I'll paint you and your stupid girlfriend if you want, 's long as you pay me. Name's Jack Kelly.

[He nods sharply, once, and lights up the cigarette.]

An' in personal business, a couple thin's: this gun's good an' all, but I'm in the knives business, meself. Anybody sellin' any good blades? I don't mean no stores, all right, I ain't lookin' for no directions to no weapons shops. I'm talkin' about the good stuff, the stuff you get on the streets. I don't got much money yet, but like I said, I got a few skills I can exchange.

An' speakin' o' them: I hear I got some roommates. Miss, uh, Galadriel and some guy named Guy? Well, I ain't gonna be in at all. Not for sleepin', anyway. So don't trouble yourself with that, when you don't see me come in.

[A deliberate pause. He exhales a lungful of smoke and watches it drift upwards before adding:]

Asano Rin. I got a bone to pick with you, and I think you know why.

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[ He at least manages to hide his grin, along with the verbal part that the next spell usually requires. And in a few seconds, when it's ready to cast, he gestures toward Jack again. ]

Do what?

[ Jack will now have a nice, pleasant golden holy glow shimmering around him, emanating from clothes, hair, skin — whatever's visible. ]

You don't mean that. Do you?

[There's a ringing in his ears, and he feels too hot, and there's amusement in his (his) voice, too much amusement-- and before Jack knows it, he's shoving Ashraf forward with a wordless yell, his hands gripping his collar, his other curled in a tight fist. He holds it back, threatening.]

Don't, fucking don't, you don't fucking do shit to people like that without askin', you can't just fuckin' do stuff to people and think it's fuckin' funny--

[ His eyes widen a little and his smile drops away. There's no resistance to the shove, and he quickly has one hand up, light against Jack's upper arm, steadying. Not steadying himself, but Jack.

He speaks low, quickly, but without urgency. ]

I'm sorry. I won't again. It's harmless magic, beneficial — but hit me if you need to.

[Any other reaction-- of fear, of anger, of disgust or confusion-- would have gotten a punch. But not this. Ashraf's calm acceptance drains Jack's anger, quickly and easily, leaving him suddenly exhausted.

He pulls away from Ashraf, turning and shaking his head.]

You can't . . . do thin's to people. Not without permission. Even if it's harmless. You just-- you can't.

You're right. I'm sorry. [ And he'd known that once, too. There'd been a time when he was painfully careful with his magic, explaining each effect to new people before casting it. He looks away, guilty. ]

It's a little late now, but — that's a spell of Assumptio. It will absorb about half of any physical blow you receive, and it should wear off in a couple minutes.

[Humorlessly:]

Maybe I shoulda hit you, then.

[He shakes his head, still not looking over at Ashraf. His body is held tensely, his fingers half curled into fists, his shoulders rigid and held high. After a moment he scrambles in his pockets, clumsily yanking out a cigarette.]

Well, it would've been your right.

[ Poor gently glowing Jack. He looks over again, watches for a few seconds, fidgets, and bursts out unhappily: ] Jack, I'm sorry, I really feel awful — I can take it off with another spell, if you want.

[He lights his cigarette as he thinks it over-- anything else put on him is abhorrent, but worse is this bizarre glowing.]

Do it, then.

[ He nods, steps back, and explains it first this time— ]

This is Kyrie Eleison, which will be a physical shield around you from any blow. They're incompatible spells, so it will cancel out the Assumptio.

[ And then he casts it. With one quick, green shimmer, in a honeycomb pattern around Jack, all glowing disappears. ]

[He exhales softly, his body visibly slumping as the spell leaves him. And now he turns, meeting Ashraf's eyes with a glare.]

You do that a lot to people, then?

Well... [ He offers a shrug. ] That's my whole job, really. I usually keep it to battle, though.

I'm not talkin' about battle. Your, your friends or whoever, you do this to them without askin'?

[ well now this just gettin awkward ]

Sometimes.

[Coldly:]

Maybe you oughta knock it off.

I think I will. [ with this guy, at least. hooboy, lesson learned. He tries a small smile. ]

Well, the first drink is on me, if you're still interested. I probable owe two or three more, too.

Yeah, all right. Buy me a bottle o' whiskey and I'll call it even.

You're on. [ He nods ahead, inviting them to start walking again. ] Again, sorry. I really should have thought better.

Yeah, you should've.

[He sucks in a deep breath, letting the nicotine sooth him. A little less roughly:]

I've been through . . . a lot, these past two months. I ain't so good with surprises no more.