nysalogs | Normal is a lie we tell ourselves

Entry tags:

Normal is a lie we tell ourselves

Who: Jessica Jones (

assholic) & OPEN
What: May catch-all
When: Early May to the end of May
Where: Wyver (home/city/arenas), the Space Station, the Wilds, possibly Khalo Village
Warning(s): As always, language. Will edit if needed. Edit: NSFW sex in thread w/Clark

She'd gone to the Coalition and surprise, surprise, no one had died. Well, not that she was aware of. Things seemed to be settling down into something less hostile. There were talks of diplomacy, and she'd heard of refugees starting some diplomatic guild or something, which she also trusted about as far as she could throw any of them in it. The Outpost was being turned into some sort of Swiss neutral zone, but it wasn't what she'd been hoping for.

Still, it was probably better than nothing. She'd limited her visits to Olympia, which had left her with time and the need to line her pockets with something other than those deliveries. She'd seen requests for finding things out in the wild, and while Jessica was definitely a city girl, she could at some points during May be found out in the wilds, looking for things to shove in a bag. She was also blowing off steam by continuing to fight in the arenas, though she'd been politely requested to step up a level, since the coordinators were aware that she was pulling her punches and taking easier fights instead of putting in any actual effort. Damn.

So, for May, Jessica can be found:

Wyver
- Home - Chilling with Clark and possibly inviting people she knows over so someone will eat the food she's only nibbling on
- City - She still goes to the pubs, still visits the marketplace, still goes to see what's available for her to do for time and money
- Arena - Probably the easiest place for people to find her, as she's there more often than not, having 'things at home' she doesn't want to work through
Station
- Pod Room - Checking up on those few she gives a shit about and the one she doesn't
- Market - Spending some of what she's earned getting new jeans and a few bottles of stuff she can't get down on the planet
Wilds
- Out and about trying to harvest flora, fauna, or whatever she comes across that she hasn't seen in the markets. This prompt is open for multiple instances and available for team hand-ins
Wildcard
- Khalo Village - Someone could talk her into visiting there
- Flona Cove - If anyone needs to just take a day and chill, it's her
- Random - Something else in mind?

[Feel free to PM or PP me if you're not sure about something and would like to iron out the details, or if you'd like me to write up a specific starter.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

John is tired already, frustrated, already sporting a healing cut on his face and a few bruises before he even arrives at the fighting ring. It's been a long few days, and although he intended to come the rest of the way into Wyver to find out something more about the shamans and where they might have taken the heart -- well, he also has a lot of pent up frustration he needs to get out.

Ianto would probably frown at him, give him that sad puppy blue-eyed look he seems to have perfected.

He feels a faint pang of guilt, but buries it under the lie that he's looking for connections and information. He has other reasons to be here. Besides, this is more legit than the fight club at the beach. It's an actual business. People work here. There's... gambling, fine, that probably doesn't make it better -- but it is popular and there's a lot of people here. He's weighing up exactly how restless he feels when he spots a flash of dark hair that seems familiar. Huh

Weaving through the crowd, he takes a half second to judge from a distance if she seems both alone and not in a horrific mood before moving up beside her -- hands casually shoved into his pockets.

"Should have known I'd find you here too."

Since it seems like a magnet for people who make poor life choices, himself included in that of course.

She looks up when she feels someone almost but not quite invade her space, like the act alone of being close was an attempt to get her attention. She knew that move, she just hadn't bothered to perfect it. She preferred to make her presence known and do it quickly. She placed his face and wondered why he was bumming around the Arena herself, seeing the look of a man who'd already been through the wringer and was looking for a second ride.

"Yeah? Why? Do I look like I have 'fun girl, likes blood and gore' written on me somewhere? Oh, shit, was that the t-shirt I was wearing that day? My bad." She sipped from the flask she had with her. She still drank before matches, but she wasn't aiming for the sloppy black-out drunk that she'd started with when she'd first started using the Arenas to punish herself.

"Pretty much. I left my 'Punch me, I'm a masochist' shirt behind unfortunately and haven't been able to replace it here yet. If you see a good one, let me know."

Not that he expects they sell that kind of thing down here. He takes a half glance around again, clocking the type of people there.

"So you are mostly fighting, or are you losing all your money too?"

Aside from on drink, that is. He's not sure he'd peg her for a gambling sort, but you can never be sure. Sometimes it just depends on the type of gambling, how high stakes it is. What you're gambling with. All kinds of contextual factors. John's a thrill seeker himself, so he's quietly trying to ignore the gambling before he makes a mistake.

"Fighting. Already had a match earlier and now I'm just drinking myself into a second one. Should be coming up after the cage round finishes." She gestured over to the far left, where there was a sort of caged area; sides and top all meshed in to keep anyone from escaping entirely. "They like me in that one. I can't get up high enough to kill anyone with a throw-down."

Her 'signature finishing move' had resulted in quite a bit of damage, so they had to figure out either what to limit her to or where to fit her that she couldn't have that kind of freedom. This was an 'anything goes' match, so...

"Gambling's dumb. Spend your money on shit you want, not shit you might get if someone doesn't screw you. Unless you're looking for someone to screw you. Then I'm sure there's hands willing to take your money."

Can't get up high enough to kill someone. John's eyebrows loft for a moment, then furrow a little as he glances in the direction of the cage.

"Well, I've been told fighting is dumb too and I'm pretty sure there were opinions about my drinking. So I'm figuring no matter what I do someone will tell me it was a mistake."

John doesn't sound strictly like he cares much. He glances at her drink then around vaguely.

"You good with that, or do you want something suspicious from one of these stands?"

He's guessing either very strong and overpriced or cheap and watered down are the options.

"Save that offer until after my round and I might take you up on it. Figure you owe me one after the smoke-bombs." She grinned, remembering just how queasy he'd looked near the end of it. "I may have forgotten to mention that smoke eventually comes out both ends."

Was she snickering? She was snickering.

"Oh, I owe you something alright. Just you wait."

John Sheppard is not a man opposed to playing a long game with his revenge.

"I am never drinking that stuff again if I can help it."

Even if maybe sticking to one glass might have been fine, it's the principle of the thing. He holds Jessica entirely responsible for the whole thing. Never admit fault if possible, one of the Sheppard family mottos. Probably.

She heard the weight of the supposed threat there, smiling to herself as she took another long swallow. "It's not so bad. You just need to get used to it. That's the fun of being here. All sorts of magical shit and lightning in a bottle going on. Trust me, it could have been worse."

"Oh, you trust me -- I have enough experience with weird magical shit to know and to be inclined to stick to cheap beer."

He's not had a problem with cheap beer so far. Glancing down absently he adjusts the bandage which is currently wrapped, haphazardly, over his jacket and sighs a sigh of resignation.

"Listen, speaking of weird magical shit --"

John's voice lowers to a whisper, so much as it can while still being heard over the crowd, and he frowns unhappily.

"You know anyone who knows about the shamans around here?"

Since he's meant to be following up a lead. He really just wants to drink and forget how frustrating the whole situation is, but equally John's stubborn enough to not let go. The whole thing went wrong on his watch, so he's responsible to some degree.

If there was anything guaranteed to tense Jessica up when she was in a good mood, talking about the shamans was certainly one of those topics. Her smile melted off, leaving a scowl in its place as she glowered over at him. "What the fuck do you want to know about those fuckwads for? Didn't they all die? I hope they all died. They're going to wish they all fucking died..."

Jessica Jones had a score to settle with them, after all.

"Because they're not all fucking dead," he hisses, "their buddies jumped me escorting something out of Olympia."

John takes a controlling breath, minimises his own spike of rage -- which desperately wants to match Jessica's, to turn everything into a yelling match -- and tries to focus. It's not Jessica's fault, she has her own reasons for being angry. Nobody died, even if -- even if they might as a consequence. John suddenly has a desire for something much stronger than cheap beer.

People had died when she'd been taken. Someone she actually liked, and even if that someone had also been resurrected by the Natha, that didn't make it any less traumatic. Kidnapping and torture tends to leave a mark -- especially on someone that already has that in their past. She still suffered from PTSD flashbacks, but she'd gotten better at not breaking things around her when they happened. The Arenas had helped her focus it. Not that she'd admit it was any kind of therapy.

"What were you escorting?" Because this was the first she'd heard of it, but that wasn't really too surprising. She'd been trying to keep her head down, stay out of whatever political bullshit was happening to make herself less of a target.

He probably shouldn't talk too much more about it in the middle of this crowded area. John scrubs his hair and shoots a casual look around, weighing up his options.

"Got five minutes to get some air?"

That is, to stand somewhere quieter while having this conversation. He tilts his head vaguely toward a clearing, wills Jessica to understand while trying to keep his expression as neutral as he can.

Edited (neutralising some words) 2018-05-26 22:43 (UTC)

He may as well have been carrying a sign that said 'SECRET CONVERSATION'. He'd gone all-over tense, and she looked over at the match, figuring she had a bit of time before hers was up. "Not too much longer past that. Bruno's not bleeding yet, so we're good."

Bruno tended to lose his shit when he saw his own blood, so everything was good for his opponent until then. She gestured for John to lead the way to where he wanted to have his super secret chat.

Right. No more than five minutes. It shouldn't take much more than that. He nods and turns to thread through the people, making his way along until they end up what he judges a safe distance. The roar of the crowd every now and then is still audible, giving them a degree of atmospheric cover.

John sighs, tries to work out where to begin with the whole mess.

"So," he begins softly, "you know the whole... diplomatic council mess?"

"I know there is a diplomatic council. Other than that, I've been trying to keep out of the rest of it." For her own safety. And for Clark's sanity. She didn't know how well he'd react to her getting kidnapped again, and since he was still trying to keep his abilities under wraps, she didn't want to be the reason he wound up getting outed as something other than just what he appeared to be. "I take it there's more shit I haven't heard."

"Probably a wise choice."

He grimaces a little, rubs at the side of his face.

"Both cities have been holding artefacts hostage. They agreed to trade them as part of a sort of peace process, you know. Building bridges or whatever. Olympia's been holding a dragon heart. It's real creepy, still beating. We escorted it of Olympia but got jumped just as we made the southern outpost. Did my best bad cop, worse cop routine and managed to get one of them to tell me they were working with the shamans. Want to bring the thing back to life."

Which... well, whatever they might think John can't quite envision a good end to that whole situation. He flexes his fingers uneasily, trying to press down the wave of frustration threatening to build up.

Her brows furrowed as she listened to him, trying to think of exactly what that meant. "Wait, wait. They had a dragon heart and they want to bring the dragon it belongs to back to life? Oh, fuck me." She'd been through this before, albeit with ninjas and supposedly dead ex-girlfriend assassins, but undead anything made her eye twitch. She had no reason to think that this world's undead was anything like what she'd seen in hers, but she had a feeling that it couldn't be a good thing. Zombie dragons or whatever the fuck it would be sounded like an incredibly bad idea.

"I swear to god, I'm going to kill every one of those fuckers. They're right up there with winners of the bad fucking idea of the year awards."

"Yeah!" John confirms, with the tone of someone glad that his sentiment is shared because it is absolutely the worst idea he has ever heard. "They seemed to think it was already powerful enough on its own -- which, I guess it is the still beating heart of a dragon and all. Bringing the dragon back to life seems even more dangerous, though. I mean sure, she claimed it was a wise dragon -- but she also said if anywhere was going to burn Olympia would be first and I've grown moderately attached to the place I'm renting there. It would be a hassle to move."

So, you know. He'd rather the burning not happen.

"Like I trust a goddamn thing out of anyone's mouth here. They say safe, I say bullshit." Jessica's track record with trust and those in positions of authority here hadn't exactly grown better with time. If anything, she'd gotten even more suspicious; of both the motives of those that lived on the planet and the Natha, who she felt were holding people hostage in a very thinly veiled threat. "So... that shamans got the heart?"

"Yeah, she implied that was the plan. Take it to the shamans, I guess do whatever shamanistic ritual it is they have to do to bring it back. Assuming it's a ritual. Guess it might just be a machine they stick it in or something."

He rubs his face with a wince, glancing around uneasily.

"They're out here in Wyver, right? So it's gotta be somewhere here too."

If they just knew where it was maybe they could find it, get it back. Although something the bandit said nags at him, like a sore tooth. The heart is more powerful than you think. Even those without magic can't help but find it captivating.

"They don't seem to be too big on machines around here. Probably some magic hokey bullshit." Not that it made it better. If anything, it made it harder to figure out where they'd be doing anything. "Pretty sure most of the boltholes they had before were searched and burned out after their little nab and torture stint. If they have other areas in Wyver or around it they're hiding out, I'm not sure how much anyone around here's going to know. They fucked up before. They seem to be making a pattern of it."

And people with power doing dangerous things were something that needed to be dealt with. She didn't want a repeat of last time. She didn't want anyone else getting taken. If they could subdue her abilities, what if they took Clark next time? She felt her hands curl into fists, tension radiating through her body. "God, I really hate this magic undead bullshit."

"Yeah, it's not in my top ten either. Especially without my guns."

If something undead and flying is going to be out and about any time soon, John would much prefer to have something to shoot it with. He sighs, working his jaw to stop himself clenching it as he thinks.

"A little bird," Ianto, "told me they have some kind of altar around here. If you're going to perform a crazy ritual I'm guessing altars would be involved. Is there just the one?"

Or are there more? How many altars is he going to have to visit before hitting the right one? How long, for that matter, do they have?

She gave him a lopsided shrug, trying to ignore that rising anger that yet again, there was more shit going on that she didn't want to be involved with but might land right on her goddamn doorstep. Possibly literally. "I have no idea. I wasn't religious back home. I haven't been keeping up on where they're sacrificing to what gods here. As long as it doesn't involve me or mine, I really don't give a shit."

That was Jessica Jones in a nutshell.

No real judgement on that, John wishes on many levels he could ignore this.

"Yeah, well, unfortunately I took it personally when one of them stabbed me in the arm so I guess I'm involving myself."

That, and he feels responsible. He was meant to be guarding the shipment. He was meant to stop this happening. Sure, other people were there too, but he still feels the weight of the responsibility to fix it sitting heavily on his shoulders.

Edited 2018-05-30 20:04 (UTC)

Wyver (Arena)

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