[OPEN] Wait, let me set the record straight: I was never really yours in the first place.

[hostage]

Date & Time: January 9 and onward
Location: in and about town
Characters: Jesse & OPEN to anyone
Summary: A chance for an everyday encounter with Jesse. Put the date in your subject line!
Warnings: Breaking Bad spoilers are likely.

[Jesse might be the only one who finds Exsilium's current state beautiful rather than desolate and depressing. For more reasons than one, if given the choice between here and home, he'd choose here without hesitation. The snow and the chill do nothing to deter him from taking long walks. For as long as he can physically stand it, he prefers the cold over being confined inside four walls.

So he walks. Every day, without any particular destination, without anything else to occupy him. The concerns of the Initiative and the Transports are no longer his own. Whatever they're up to, they mean little to him. He's still got enough stolen Russian gold to pay for whatever he needs without having to work, so that's how he's choosing to live for as long as he's able. His time is spent doing whatever he wants to do, and at the moment, what he wants to do is wander.

Freedom: that's what this is about. No one is ever going to make him do anything ever again.]

Comments

[hyanaimne]

[she makes a vague gesture towards the direction Jesse came - and as she does, her sleeve slips up enough that he can see the dark red, almost black mark on her wrist]

I came out to do some hunting, or some exploring if I felt up to it. You are not keeping me.

[hostage]

[His gaze drops to her wrist. He doesn't ask, but he also can't help but stare blatantly, and he forgets whatever he was going to say next.]

[hyanaimne]

[Tempest frowns and follows his look down to her wrist - and can't help but reach over and rub it, self-consciously]

It is nothing.

[which . . . isn't a lie, exactly]

[hostage]

[He twitches and shakes his head before looking away from her entirely.]

Sorry.

[hyanaimne]

[when he looks away, she makes sure to tug down both her sleeves, to make sure those marks are well covered up]

Why are you apologizing?

[hostage]

For staring.

[hyanaimne]

It is a bit hard not to, honestly.

[she resists the urge to rub at her wrist again] It will go away . . . it looks worse than it feels.

[hostage]

[He should still probably not ask, but...]

What, um... What happened?

[hyanaimne]

[it's hard to explain without getting certain dark elves in trouble, or revealing that those marks are mirrored on her neck and ankles. But she can be vague, at least]

Magic. I am . . . I suppose saying I am allergic to certain types is a good way to explain it. This - [she gestures to her wrists] is what happens when it touches me for too long.

[hostage]

Oh.

[He wonders if it's something he can cure, if it's a curse or something, but he's afraid to offer. His power's been acting weird, and if something goes wrong, then no one will believe it was accidental.]

It looks... bad.

[hyanaimne]

[she frowns, and can't help but actually look at her wrist for a moment or two. She rubs at it again, then shrugs]

It could have been much, much worse.

[hostage]

[He wants to hear more about how the hell it happened, but he figures she'd volunteer the information if she wanted him to know. Christ, he's practically her enemy. Of course she doesn't want him to know.]

Sorry.

[hyanaimne]

There is nothing to be sorry about . . .

[another thing she's terrible at accepting]