Normal is a lie we tell ourselves

[assholic]

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.]

Comments

[assholic]

"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.

[impavid]

"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.

[assholic]

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."

[impavid]

"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.

[assholic]

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.

[impavid]

"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.

[assholic]

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.

[impavid]

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.

[assholic]

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.

[impavid]

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?"

[assholic]

"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."

[impavid]

"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.

[assholic]

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."

[impavid]

"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.

[assholic]

"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?"

[impavid]

"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.

[assholic]

"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."

[impavid]

"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?

[assholic]

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.

[impavid]

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.

[assholic]

She wanted to scoff at a mere stab in the arm. After what she'd seen in their careful hands, she felt her and a lot more people had more of a right to be pissed off in general. But this wasn't a contest of who was more wronged. They could all be pissed off, and being stabbed wasn't exactly a picnic either -- she'd taken plenty of slices and wounds while fighting here regularly. Her first week back after being rescued, she'd gone overboard on her self-loathing/beating herself up and had to be dragged off and cared for by interested parties.

But none of that was something she wanted to share with a veritable stranger, uniting fury or not. "So what, you thought you'd bum around town looking for them? They're persona non grata in here. Assassination attempts on royalty are apparently frowned on." Not so much assault and murder of natives and refugees alike. Figures. "Or were you just looking to find someone to finish whatever job they were doing on you." Her chin nodded at the bandage.

[impavid]

Something about that hits a little too abruptly close to the mark and John reflexively drops his eyes away with a sardonic twist of a smile.

"Maybe I'm multi-tasking."

You know, getting information and seeking out danger at the same time. Which is true. He wants to fix this, but he's in no way going out of his way to be careful about it and on some level he knows that. He can almost hear Ianto's passive, gentle voice telling him your methods and outcomes could perhaps use some fine tuning. He never gets angry, and it only makes John more angry at himself every time.

[assholic]

"And maybe I'm the goddamn queen of Sheba. Look, buddy. You want to make a mess of yourself, that's your deal. God knows I've done the same to myself here. Everyone has their own fucked up coping mechanisms. But if you actually want information and don't just want to beat yourself up, keep that as your target. Get what you need, then go get fucked up." She didn't want to add salt in the wound by pointing out that men didn't seem to be able to multitask quite the same way women did. They could do a lot of things, sure, but not generally without tripping over their already laid plans.

Jess often fell in that camp more than not.

[impavid]

It's somewhat softened by her admission, but John still feels the sting of how true it is. He won't get anything done if he makes a mess of himself first.

"I'm trying," John protests, though there's little heat in how defensive it is. "I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

See, all part of the trying thing. He is looking for information.

[assholic]

"Uh huh. You picked probably the worst person to get information out of. You want the down-low skinny on any fuckers around here? Go talk to the raccoon."

And she honestly meant that. Rocket always seemed to have his nose exactly where it shouldn't be, and he seemed to know way more about the behind the scenes of this place than she had.