Trust is earned, not given

[assholic]

Who: Jessica Jones (assholic) & OPEN
What: April's catch-all
When: Beginning of April until at least the 21st (likely also usable for log threads from the event)
Where: Wyver; The pubs, her home with Clark, the arenas. Thesa Station; Visiting the pods to check on her people, the bars.
Warning(s): As this post will also be available for the memory share event, there is a possible warning for discussions and/or graphic descriptions of sexual assault and violence. I'll update which threads need to be warned for. Usual warning of language and possible sexual content. Update: Jessica/Brock's thread has a cw for sexual assault memories.

I: Thesa Station
[When the whole idea of living rustic got a bit too much for her, or when she just wanted to stop feeling like she was being judged or watched by everyone in Wyver, she headed up to the station. She figured she'd get in as much time there as she could, considering how long they'd been locked out from visiting before. Their tech seemed to be iffy at best. Plus, they had better alcohol there that she knew wasn't laced with anything magical, and that right now as an immense bonus.

There was also Trish, and lately, Jess had a lot to talk to her best friend/sister about, and it was killing her that she wasn't there, wasn't really there to give her advice. Or laugh at the shit she'd gotten herself into.

So on Thesa Station, Jessica could be found either hanging around Trish's pod, drinking herself into a stupor, or heading to sleep it off in a corner/cot/room. There's also the wildcard option, if none of those fit.]


II: Wyver
[Despite wanting not to, she still lived in Wyver. She had people down there she gave a shit about, and despite part of her thinking they'd be better off without having to deal with her shit, there was too much going on right now for her to think about leaving them. No one was safe on the planet. Not in either town. But for the moment, even after her... ordeal, she was sticking with Wyver.

That choice might have something to do with the person she lived with, but she wasn't about to tell him or anyone else that.

In Wyver, Jessica could be found working at the Arenas for money to burn, trying to avoid the odd accolades some shops were giving her because of the ring she'd been seen with in public before stuffing it in her pocket, drinking herself into a stupor, and trying not to get herself into more shit than she was already in. That might be a tall order. There's also a wildcard prompt if none of these suit.]


III: Memory Share - (CW: Potential mention of sexual assault/trauma/violence with some of Jessica's memories)
[As if what she'd gone through hadn't been enough, now she was seeing other people's thoughts? Or... memories. The whole thing played like a VR snippet of someone's life, and she felt a growing sense of dread that the next bubble she got caught in would be her own instead of someone else's -- a fact she was bothered by enough considering the immense invasion of privacy that it was, one that crossed a line beyond snooping and taking pictures of someone in the act. This sincerely bothered her, and for the duration of the event, she would be very... unsettled.

(As a large lump of memories from Jessica's canon/past deal with sexual assault/violence/drug abuse, I'd like to make sure anyone who'd like to play with one of her memories is fully understanding of the scope of them and to double check on what people are comfortable with. Please PM or PP me (junglewere) if we haven't already talked about it or it's new CR, or just to make sure we're all on the same page and no one is made uncomfortable or upset by anything threaded.)

This can be a prompt for either people to come across her memories, or her to come across others. Or, there's a wildcard option if you'd prefer.


IV: Wildcard
[Wildcard in general. If none of the other options are what you'd like or you have a specific scenario in mind, please feel free to write your own starter or msg me for specifics if you'd like.]

Comments

For Daenerys

[assholic]

The arenas. She was starting to feel like this was one of 'her' places. Her zones. She had a corner she curled up in between fights, one that some of the other fighters even kept clear for her. She was earning a spot. All on her own. She'd gotten to the point where she was even remembering names, not that she actually used them. Gill and Ednira were still Spike-face and Skunktard. But they seemed to not take offense at those names anymore, nodding their heads and making way for her as she settled in to shed her jacket and wrap her hands up.

She wasn't as pissed off as she'd been after being taken anymore. She'd worked off a lot of that rage, but it was still there. It was always there, simmering just under the surface, coloring her thoughts and making her have to concentrate more on how hard she couldn't hit someone.

During her chat with the lady with the white hair she'd been trapped with, she'd mentioned she fought down at the arenas. Some casual mention of stopping by to see what these 'arenas' were like, and Jess didn't think much else of it. From what she'd seen of the woman, she was too hoity toity to get down and dirty with the fighters or the betters. There were rules in the Arenas. A sort of law in itself. And for the most part, they all followed it.

So on a day like any other, when Jessica felt like earning a bit of cash to drink herself stupid because of reasons, she made her way to the arena to do just that. She'd lined herself up for a few fights, not wanting to get too into it, but knowing she needed to work off some steam as well. Big guys. Not to the death. Powered. Just her style...

rolls in way too late

[dorzalta]

The woman she'd met during her capture was pessimistic and just shy of being self-absorbed. Paranoia is what she suspects. One doesn't speak so poorly of those in leadership without having reason to; it was a matter of discovering what this woman's reason was. If Dany cared to. Clark saw something in her, enough to share a living space with her, after all. That had to count for something?

So on a day where restlessness gets the better of her, where not even the sanctuary or the new outfit she designs can stay her mind, she decides to set out and learn. Such a place is rich in culture, she notices that straightaway. Not pristine by any means, her walk does show more of the heart of Wyver. Rougher citizens who catch sight of the ring around her neck and make space for her, acknowledging her. It paints a target on her back, but so had traveling to Olympia. At least this target distinguishes her in a more favorable light.

"Seems you've made a name for yourself here," she says by way of greeting. Perhaps it's to understand: there was much to understand when it came to both the woman and this fighting pit culture. The arena reminds her much of Meereen. It's not the most welcomed scene to visit, even if she'd expected the violence. But there was a difference. The fighting pits of Meereen were run by the Masters.

The fighting pits of Wyver... well, this one hardly seemed the sort to be owned.

"All of these men and women--they're here willingly?"

Best be bringing some tea, woman.

[assholic]

She saw Dany before Dany saw her, the white hair standing out vividly amidst grime and blood and leather. When she made her way over, she shuffled her ass over on the bench a bit, leaving room for her to sit if she wanted. She looked up at the question, then around at the bodies filling the spaces between the rings and cages. "You see any leashes? It's a sign up thing. You come if you want. You sign up for what kind of fight you want, and you either win or you lose. It's not even to the death."

That was almost a lie. It wasn't usually to the death, but occasionally, those with bitterness between them or a score to settle could have a sanctioned death match. The arena hosted it, because the arena made money off it. People came because those with a lust for that kind of violence could have it sated there instead of seeking it out themselves. It was a little extra that was allowed that just skirted the line of legalities.

But Jessica had stopped trying to slap the 'laws' of her world onto this place. It was different. She had to figure it out and keep ahead of the game.

spiked with whiskey

[dorzalta]

"Chains don't always require being visible," she says, sitting beside Jess on the bench. The tunic she wears is black, threaded with red in a play on Drogon's scales, her pants and boots a darker hue. Sleeveless. "There was something like this back in the city I freed."

Her eyes flick over their surroundings, settling on each and every contender who is in a state of undress or grime. Neither bothers her much. When their surroundings fail to hold her interest, she looks back toward Jess.

"How many fights have you been in?"

yes, good

[assholic]

"What today? One so far. I have another one coming up in a bit. Figured I'd take a breather, get a little buzz on." There was a bottle on the ground between her feet, one she picked up and took a sip from. She held it out to Dany, figuring she'd be turned down. "This isn't the city you freed. This isn't my world, either. Way back in our history, we had coliseums. Gladiators versus lions or some shit like that. Seems no matter where you go, people are bloodthirsty assholes."

[dorzalta]

"The shamans would suggest otherwise." She takes the bottle, regarding it for a moment. It doesn't look or smell like wine; in fact, taking a sniff has her nose wrinkling. But Jessica drinks, and she would drink as well. It wasn't dragon's blood, at least. "As would the cities."

She nearly chokes on what she swallows, making a noise as she reaches up to press her fingers to her lips. Down, it will go, burning all the way. Her eyes water.

"What is this?" she asks, handing the bottle back. "Your people killed lions?"

[assholic]

"The shamans can suck my dick," she shot back, watching Dany almost choke on the small sip she'd taken. She took the bottle back with a smirk, taking a longer sip with no wincing to go along with it. That should give the dragon queen a bit of her measure.

"Whiskey. Not the best kind, but it's got a nice kick. And... yeah. Sort of. Sometimes. Depends on if they decided to give them anything to fight with or if they just threw them in for a good mauling. It was about a thousand or so years ago, but now we just have MMA and cage fights to make up for it. Guess there's no such thing as actual civilization without a little blood."

[dorzalta]

"Whiskey," she repeats, ignoring the comment about sucking dicks, as well as that smirk. They were dead; they'd be sucking nothing, now. "It's meant to taste that way?"

She watches the ring, the new match about to unravel. Something distant enters her eyes. It's near impossible to not compare this to Meereen. Even if she sits not on a dais, but nearer to the combatants. Half expecting to find a master commanding those awaiting battle, she instead finds a more relaxed atmosphere. Camaraderie amidst some of the Wyver citizens.

"Did you fight like this as well in your world? Even against a lion?"

[assholic]

"It's meant to taste better. This is a cheap knock off someone taught the natives how to make. Good whiskey, real expensive whiskey is smoother. Like vodka, but with more of a ki-- wait. You probably have no idea what vodka is either. Or gin. Or tequila. Uh...," she took another sip, thinking. "Wine. Think of it as wine. There's shitty boxed wine that costs next to nothing but will get you drunk. Then there's really great aged wine that people took care to make. This? This is the equivalent of boxed wine."

Leaning back a little, she felt she was getting the hang of trying to explain things in ways that people not from her time or her world might quite get. She might be failing, but hey, at least she was trying.

"Me? Fuck no. I tried to avoid fights. And the lion thing died out with the coliseums. Cruelty against animals and all that shit. Can't hurt the murder kitty. Which, hey, I agree with. Lion didn't do anything to deserve getting tossed in a ring and slashed at. But this kind of thing... nah. Anyone with abilities tried to stay low unless they were part of some initiative or something. I just used to follow people and be a snoopy shit."

[dorzalta]

She's not quite sure what boxed wine would be like, either, having only ever seen these things in caskets; nevertheless, the explanation helps. Quietly, she considers the bottle Jessica holds. It's a cheaper quality, essentially. Not like the richer wines of the Keep, where those truly skilled took care to produce vast quantities of it.

"Do you know how to create the good kind?" If not, she thinks she will ask around. It's worth exploring further, if this is the sort of drink Jessica's forced to consume. "That makes sense, though. We don't have boxed wines, but there are certainly kinds that are... not as enjoyable."

They're disgusting, is what she's trying to say.

"What sort of abilities?" She wonders what someone like Cersei Lannister would make of her house sigil being equated to a 'murder kitty.' "To my knowledge, Westeros had no fighting pits. But there were events where knights could joust for the entertainment of many. Ser Loras would likely be able to tell you more of that, if you were interested."

[assholic]

"I buy it, I don't make it. My roommate does the brewing when he feels like it. He makes a hell of a moonshine." She couldn't help it. Even just thinking of Clark had a secret little smile tipping up the corner of her mouth. Goddammit, she was such a moron over that loser.

Jess can hear the tone, though. She knows that upper crust snobbery when she hears it. Some people can't help it. She supposes that it makes sense if you spent your life being told you were a queen or king or emperor and suddenly you're here and told it doesn't matter. Facts don't erase a lifetime of experiences.

"Depends. There's a doctor that gets pissed off and turns into a green monster that can break anything. Another guy's some god of thunder that can fly and call down lightning. I had a friend back home who was bulletproof and super strong. Me?" She shrugged. "I'm stronger than I look and some twist of fuckery here lets me fly. Whoopee for me. But it makes for a good show. I've met Loras. The sword swinging kid. He sticks to the weapons arenas and does pretty good for himself, from what I hear."

[dorzalta]

"You mean Clark." Dany misses the smile, watching the next match as it begins with a frown. "He's a good man."

She's not Tyrion; she won't drink wine if it's of poor taste, lest it's offered to her. And then, it's only so as not to be rude. Even so, she's wary of accepting it from strangers, ever since that attempt by the Usurper to poison her whilst she carried child.

"A green monster?" That, out of all she lists, seems the hardest to imagine. Men strong enough to withstand blows? She could see that. And a god is a god--none she's ever met, but it seems less impressive. "I'm glad to hear he does well. He deserves it, after all that occurred."

Finally looking away from the match, she lifts her brows at Jessica.

"You couldn't fly in your world?" ANd if there's a note of wistful yearning, Dany makes no show of acnkowedlging it. "Have you flown often here?"

[assholic]

Jessica leans back, bottle resting on her thigh as she just tries to relax before she has to go back in for another round. The question has her slitting her eyes open and looking over at Daenerys. "I could do something, but it wasn't flying. Not really. But it got... I dunno, fucked with somehow here. So you might want to keep tabs on what you eat or drink. Or who you fuck. Be just my luck to find out that powers are part of some weird new STD."

iii.

[ukase]

[Walking through the memories of other people's trauma was like watching torture case files and interrogations with certain spies. Most of the one's he had found himself in had been horrible, the kind of memories that people would never want to share if they had a choice. He had seen a lot of shit in his day, had plenty done to him way back when, but so far, he hadn't had to personally have the details of his past revealed to others. He liked to think that his advanced training in compartmentalization was how he avoided that, but in a way, he suspected it was just a matter of time.

So, he went exploring instead. Distraction was a good way to avoid having to wander around in fleeting dreams. Those revealed were hardly ever happy. Why would they be? People were formed together because of various conflict. So, because he had the transport available, he took it to Wyver just to see; he didn't plan on staying, not this time anyway.

He wandered around the dragon city, hands tucked into his pockets, and his head down enough that he could clearly be an unknown not worth bothering. When he spotted a familiar woman walking like she had somewhere to be, he lengthened his stride to catch up as he weaved through the crowd. However, he wasn't foolish enough to come up on her fast without identifying himself.]

Jones. [She had a tension about her that likely only a stiff drink would help put at ease. Or at least until she blacked out from it.]

CW: This thread will contain graphic mentions of sexual assault and violence.

[assholic]

[She was going from cashing in from a recent transport job to the Outpost to what was now becoming 'her' favored tavern. Somewhere close enough to home that she could get there when she was completely shitfaced, but not so close that Clark might overhear her being a loud, ranchy asshole when she felt so inclined.

Not that she knew just how good his hearing was, but... hey. A girl had to plan.

It was the name that had her knowing who she'd see when she turned to look more than the voice that said it. Not many people, if any, called her Jones. Last names were a military thing, and there weren't that many military or ex-military that she hung around with. Less so here.]

I thought you were still in Olympia.

[ukase]

[Well, she didn't enter into the conversation punching him, so that was something. He caught up with her when she turned to look, offering a rakish grin as a way of greeting as he shrugged his shoulders. There were honestly a few people up in Olympia that could not see anything that was in his head, so he came here on the off chance that any of his shit was revealed to the world at large.]

Too much shit going on; too many people who would love to use what I know against me if it got out. [Or at least that was his opinion. Some aspects of being a spy happened to come with an air of paranoia of 'do they know?', but it was a matter of keeping on a game face at all times.]

Got time for a drink, or are you going home to play housewife? [His smirk grew because needling her was always fun.]

[assholic]

Is it happening over there to? Fuck.

[She'd been jumpy ever since she'd first seen three people standing and staring at each other in horror. And then she'd walked into her first memory share bubble of hell. Thankfully, it hadn't been hers. And all things considered, it hadn't been that bad, but it let her know just what was at stake and how possible it was that people she didn't want to see her shit might do just that. And Jessica had a lot of shit that she didn't want seen.

Then again, she'd come across one bubble that had been... nice. Some memory the baker she'd gone to get a loaf of bread from was having about the birth of his son. She'd oddly felt more intrusive on that memory than on most of the others. Personal shit was personal for a reason.]

You keep having this weird fantasy of me doing shit that requires girly outfits and a little feather duster. I will literally buy one to shove up your ass.

[ukase]

Yeah, started when some part of the Storm came through with the newbies. I don't know much about it, but I'd prefer to keep well away from anyone who knows me.

[If it was all the shitty memories and not ones where there was victory or happiness, he was definitely out. He had come to accept a lot of his baggage for what it was, and it helped that he had been taught necessary skills to keep it from affecting his life. However, it was still shit people could use against him, and he'd rather it be a random stranger.

He wasn't so certain he was keen on Jones being involved though. She tended to reveal more of herself than he revealed of himself, and he liked to keep it that way. Vulnerability wasn't one of his strong suits.]

Naw, you'd be a horrible housewife. You don't seem like you're the type of person that owns enough shit that needs cleaning anyway.

[assholic]

I think you think about what type of person I am too much for my comfort.

[She kept walking, strides taking her through the crowd towards the tavern that was nearest the water. She didn't know why, but she liked that one best. Maybe it was the sound of water in the river going past it that reminded her most of city traffic. Maybe it smelled like despair and failure like most of the shitty dive bars from back home. Either way, it was steadily becoming 'hers'. They accepted that she was a little weird, but she always paid for what she drank and what she broke. With the owner having seen the ring she'd been mulling over one night before cramming it in her pocket, she occasionally got extras, but he'd learned not to make a big fuss over her.

It was the little things that mattered, really.]

So why aren't you out in the woods somewhere, playing Rambo and waiting for this shit to pass?

[ukase]

Well, you're an interesting person, so I like to think about interesting people.

[He followed her lead, since he had never actually been to this place before and while he was perfectly comfortable wandering about on his own, he suspected that she would take him somewhere that he could backtrack from and get his bearings around. He had no doubt she was taking them to some place that was out of the way where she could drink like a fish and forget this whole nonsense with memories too. He might consider doing it himself if it would allow him to avoid everything that was happening.

Her question earned a snort of amusement from him.]

Because I'm not a coward? Plus, some random stranger gets a look-see and it means nothing. Plus, it's easier to blend into a city rather than the woods.

[assholic]

Yet you came over to bug me, and I'm not a stranger. Hell of a risk, Rambo. What if I see that time you helped an old lady cross the street, or saved a kitten orphanage that was on fire? Then I'll know what a pile of soft shit you are and I'll never unsee it.

[Okay, the images amused her and she snorted a laugh at that, picturing Brock in some SWAT gear, all decked out, arms full of kittens.]

[ukase]

Well, that's easy. You throw all the kittens in pillow cases and load them out like you're Santa Clause. Of course, if you want me to leave you alone, all you have to do is say so.

[At least she was amused by her own imagination. That was more than usual, and it seemed to bleed some of the tension out of her as well.]

[assholic]

Bullshit. If I told you I wanted you to leave me alone, you'd just 'happen' to be going where I was, then sit just in my eyeline so I'd have to see you all night.

[She was guessing, but Brock didn't seem the type to give up easy. She'd had the marks on her to prove it.

They got closer to the inn, and she paused by the side of it, looking down the length of the building, seeing the way the shadows were starting to get darker as the sun began setting.]

Kitten Claus sounds like a holiday stripper.

[ukase]

I notice you aren't actually telling me to get lost.

[He could be far more subtle than he usually was with her, mostly because being in her eye sight was most likely to annoy her. However, he was more than willing to slip away and remain in the shadows. It wasn't as if she needed any kind of protection after all, but she was the only person to give shit as much as she took.

He smirked and snorted at her words, looking down the darkening alley. It looked like a great place to be knifed in the back, so he was naturally game.]

We know that actually exists. Bless the internet.

[assholic]

I bet that's your secret kink. Girls dressed up like kittens begging for some cream...

[The smile was still on her lips when it happened. When there was a sudden shifting. The building, the ground, the alley, it all changed. She looked up at him in surprise, eyes darting around to see who else might be around. Whose memories were they going to be caught up in?

Just them. Just the two of them, and that didn't exactly bode well.]

Shit.

[It took a second for her to place what she saw. She liked to tell herself that she'd made herself forget everything. That she'd put it behind her. That it wasn't even a memory. What was showing up around them proved that to be a lie.

It was a room. A nice, extravagant room. Only the best for Kilgrave, after all. She stood there, looking at a slightly younger version of herself, and she cringed. She was naked. Naked and standing there with a vacant look on her face, like some kind of android doll waiting for an order to leap into action to perform.

Kilgrave was there, lanky and mostly dressed. His shirt was open, belt undone, and he had that look in his eye. There was another girl in the room, and Jessica mentally used the word 'girl' on purpose. She couldn't have been older than seventeen. Seventeen and shoved to her knees, Kilgrave's mouth opening to tell the poor redhead that she wanted to undo his pants, she wanted to put him in her mouth. The vision of Jessica started to look away.

"No. You watch. You'll watch it and you'll stay right there."

So she did. She watched and she stayed, her hands curling into fists, nails digging into the flesh of her palm so that a trickle of blood dripped down onto the carpet.

Kilgrave liked to toy with her. It wasn't enough that he made her do what he did. He had to bring others into it. Had to make her do things. She never knew just what flavor of thing she was going to wind up doing until it left his mouth. "Don't you hate it, Jessica? You do, don't you. You hate seeing someone else touching me. She doesn't deserve me. Not like you do."

Jessica stood there, watching a look of pure hatred come over her face, a look she knew should be directed at the man with his dick in some teenage girl's face, but it was directed at the girl instead. "Make her stop, Jessica. Make her hurt."

Even though she knew it was futile by now, she stepped in, tried to block the vision of herself from marching over, but it was like she wasn't even there. The memory of her went over to the girl and dug her hands into that head of blazing hair. Blood mingled in with it; red on red, and she reached down to grab the girl's wrist. She barely squeezed, barely touched her, but she could feel the echo of those bones breaking in her hand as she heard it in the memory.]

Goddammit...