Jack (
biotic_psychotic) wrote in
fandomtownies2019-01-16 11:49 am
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Lighthouse, Wednesday evening
Jack was exploring. She'd sauntered around the town itself to familiarize herself with the shops and services and parks but there was only so much of the adorably European architecture that she could handle without turning into a walking vomit bomb. Heading to the fringes seemed to be a good plan. Get some space, look at the water, give her head a chance to clear. Time to think and some nice empty scenery in which to think.
The lighthouse was also an iconic testament standing on the shore. Pursing her lips, she regarded it and then shrugged. "Yeah, ok. I won't be able to see it from the top anyway."
Was access to the stairs locked? Did she care? They hadn't made the lock she couldn't crack. Sometimes even without damaging the door. Jack headed up the stairs to the lantern room. There was a catwalk outside but the wind at the shore level had been cold so she imagined it'd be plain nasty at this height. Staying inside seemed a better idea. The windowsills were made to be sat on anyway. Whether that was the purpose of the design held no interest for her. They were big enough to fit her butt and even let her turn sideways so she could rest her back against the side and bring a knee up to loop her arms over.
Jack glanced down at herself and imagined the picture she was presenting. 'Scary Bitch Gazes Out A Window In A Moment Of Reflective Contemplation'. The very idea of it made her snort an indelicate laugh.
Yeah, right. It was a nice view though. She really could get used to the view. The sky was calm and overcast but the water was choppy. Dark waves broken into whitecaps on the rocks. The splashing, rushing noise a muted metronome to break the silence. It suited her.
[Open]
The lighthouse was also an iconic testament standing on the shore. Pursing her lips, she regarded it and then shrugged. "Yeah, ok. I won't be able to see it from the top anyway."
Was access to the stairs locked? Did she care? They hadn't made the lock she couldn't crack. Sometimes even without damaging the door. Jack headed up the stairs to the lantern room. There was a catwalk outside but the wind at the shore level had been cold so she imagined it'd be plain nasty at this height. Staying inside seemed a better idea. The windowsills were made to be sat on anyway. Whether that was the purpose of the design held no interest for her. They were big enough to fit her butt and even let her turn sideways so she could rest her back against the side and bring a knee up to loop her arms over.
Jack glanced down at herself and imagined the picture she was presenting. 'Scary Bitch Gazes Out A Window In A Moment Of Reflective Contemplation'. The very idea of it made her snort an indelicate laugh.
Yeah, right. It was a nice view though. She really could get used to the view. The sky was calm and overcast but the water was choppy. Dark waves broken into whitecaps on the rocks. The splashing, rushing noise a muted metronome to break the silence. It suited her.
[Open]
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Then she squinted at him. "Are you the fucker that made the band in the bar? Because if you are, buddy, you and me are gonna talk about that."
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She liked the zombies. They were neat.
"Could you do anything for 'em? To fix 'em so they don't just drop bits like that?"
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She tilted her head and considered it. "Could you fix 'em if you had a body? Not to like, murderous rambling asshole zombies, but enough so they didn't keep falling apart all sad as fuck?"
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Bob sighed, then shrugged at the question. "Honestly, I'd have to look into it. I've never paid them much attention. I'd have to determine what sort of spell or what-have-you is keeping them alive and where it's faltering. Then I'd have to see if I could augment it without getting myself into even more trouble."
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"Definitely a nope on the more trouble part," Jack said firmly, "Kitty just had a goddamn baby. Trouble ain't what she fuckin' needs. The rest?" She lifted a shoulder. "We could talk about possession. There'd have to be some rules including the time I get my damn body back and what-all you could do with it while you were puppeting it around like your very own dolly made of meat. Fuck knows you couldn't do worse to it than I usually do but the last thing I need is you pissing off people I care about."
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He might get out a smart remark or two before she shut him up, if it came to that, but he doubted that would be a problem.
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She tilted her head at him. "So what's a necromancer do other than raise zombies?"
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Bob no.
"Necromancers work in life and death - healing, speaking with the dead, bringing back the dead for real, not just as zombies, as well as host of other, non-restricted, magics."
He grinned again. "So tell me about the awful things you do."
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She ran a hand over her scalp. "This place is too quiet."
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A shrug. "Not much of a story. I had a real goddamn bad day and threw a shuttle into a space station on a moon. Space station and moon both made a big fuckin' boom. Then I got charged with vandalism."