The Legacy of Jakell Wormwood

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Wormwood
Posts: 91
Character: Jakell Wormwood

Re: The Legacy of Jakell Wormwood

Post by Wormwood » December 28th, 2022, 12:12 pm

*a puff of cheeks, so many thoughts swimming at the fore front of his mind, the young man begins to write again, bleeding of himself onto the paper and every word heavy with regret, trepidation, fear - all of the above? The crackle of the small wood stove in the background and the hiss of a kettle boiling are the only other sounds as the pen scratches at parchment and he taps the floorboards with his foot, deep in thought. *

Vera,

I intend to be as honest and forthright as I can be with the following. I’m writing this remembering the shock I received from you when I confessed my general love for you still, but a week ago. It makes me think I did something, or didn’t do something very early on in our friendship that was expected or if till this day I have fostered the wrong idea and fed into the fires within me, chasing something that never was there.

I’m positive I never respected your choice to marry that man, even though I said otherwise many times to try to keep the friendship between us all. I nonetheless offer another apology for lying and playing that fool of a game which lead to me loosing my fucking mind.

I thought I was building something with you, and I still assume today that it was a simple attraction that won out, as well as what he offered in terms of protection. I hope it wasn’t anything that I did, or didn’t do, during those early days. I was just trying to be myself and figure out this new quirky attraction to a woman that took my breath away, made me feel safe, and see something of a future here in this First Province together - it was always something more than just a quick tumble session to me; more than anything I’ve had with any man at that point in my life. It felt like real love and shared admiration but looking back I’m curious again if beyond the friendship, the awkward pairing, it was intended to be nothing more than a quick exploration for you.

I know your past is clouded by family, marriage rights (which lends to why I was so shocked by the sudden marriage to him). I had no claim to you, didn’t fathom even considering it - although perhaps my actions once I realized what was happening became possessive? I just was flabbergasted that I didn’t know or realize that marriage was something you even wanted from a man. It hurt, I let myself feel that more than I should have and I had no right to take my frustrations to the extremes where it led - apologies feel empty.

I wish I had asked you and you told me “No, you idiot” and things I think would have been very different. Lesson learned I think? Not that there is anyone now left in this province after everything I’ve done that would have me. I can’t even be my flirty self any more without feeling like absolute garbage in front of people; what right do I have to happiness? That is not on you, it’s just a simple fact that I think on now often - the pit I’ve dug myself into.

I forget your exact words but I know you made it clear that while loving me you wouldn't or couldn’t love me to the heights you did him; saying you would burn the world down for him. And I understood that, because at the time I felt the same for you and that took me to places I would rather not tread again; places that parts of me can never now return from. I’m left questioning this hard stance you took now, seeing as where our lives took us and where our futures might lie.

I’d like a real answer to this because I’m tired of second guessing myself and putting us in situations; if I have moved quicker, if I had tried to prove myself more - if I had taken the steps beyond the flirting, the jests, the soft but slow gestures of love I tried to let organically grow between us. I had hoped you felt that and would give it the time I was trying to lend it.

Was I just dragging you along because we worked well together? I know everything outside of what we were all feeling was moving so quickly. Was I trying to force a future that held no appeal? Was I simply a comfortable brotherly figure? Was it where I was born, a lack of understanding of your homeland, the history, my modest, situational belief in Decus? Was it the flirting with men that put you off, saw no future with me? Did I make you feel less than because of it? Was I just not good enough in the ways a woman expects a man to be? Everything? I can’t shut these endless questions down, even now - even though I’m sure you might have given me an answer once. To see them in words will help and hopefully I can sear them to my brain in a way a conversation can’t.

I won’t be hurt by the answer to this, if there is even a simple answer like “all I wanted ever was a friendship” - I hope they will give me a semblance of peace and allow my mind to move on and hopefully lead to me treating you in the way that is proper. And here I sit, feeling a fool because I’m almost sure you answered these questions in one way or another but at the time my mind was either unable to process it or unwilling to accept it. I’m sorry if forcing these questions back into our lives brings frustration, anger or more contempt for me in some part. I just think I’m clear headed enough finally to accept them.

I want to do better, be better with whatever time I have left.

With that all said, the inner demons in me selfishly know I would take you back in a second, knowing the desire I have inside me. I beat myself up daily letting myself even go down this track of thought, knowing the past, knowing the overwhelming obstacles, knowing the pain it will bring you, and knowing it could lead to my death and who knows, even yours? Selfish, but I can’t shake it. I know better, I should have grown from all this, the fear I felt, the fear I do still feel.

I want you to respect me for my choices. I don’t want to just be a joke to you; I don’t want my continued thoughts and actions to keeping fucking us. You deserve more, even though my mother told me once never to use that term with a lover - I’m feeling it asking these things of you.

I can’t turn off that part of my brain. I wish it could be simple. I wish we could just keep being, making out, rutting, curling up together asleep after a hard day’s work. Talking about men and shirtless Furios; picking spinners out of each other's hair, rubbing grease off each other’s faces, making fun of each other’s weird body parts, working towards goals together.

Tell me “No, Jakell. There is not a fucking chance in Hel. Keep your tongue and dick to yourself. You’re a monster for still even going there. I’ve told you before - you're a friend, that’s all we can be now.” I need to hear it because part of me otherwise is going to wish for all of that, a future not to be, even if it’s only something between us in secret now, when all of Eden seems against it.

I’ve burnt endless bridges, friendships, buildings, in search of that finality and I feel like I’m on the path to burning that fraction of love we have left with what is still inside me if I don’t hear it again. I hope too, praying to whatever powers that be, that is the last time you’ll need to answer me because I’m not even sure I would find all this self doubt attractive.

Beyond the answers to these questions there is nothing more I want than your safety and happiness even if I’m not the best man in this province to provide them, as a lover or friend. I meant what I said in that letter to Lucien, if I thought you wanted it, if I thought there was some way I could mend that love you had, and clearly needed once - I would do it for you, to both keep myself alive but most importantly get you back to something safe.

Take me, or tell me off this one last time with all the love you can muster. Maybe finally, after these final words… I’ll be able to view a foot nudge, a hair tussle, a tickle as just what they are, a random gesture of love - rather than a secret desire or longing for something more. Maybe we can then fall into a pattern of friendship if it’s something you still want after everything has been said, and after everything that has happened.

With love,

Jakell Lily Wormwood



*finished he rests his chin on a hand, fingers rubbing under one eye, lips pinched closed, his heart hammering. Mustering up the guts finally, Jakell seals it and tucks it away in his doublet for the planned swap knowing what such a letter could spell. *

Wormwood
Posts: 91
Character: Jakell Wormwood

Re: The Legacy of Jakell Wormwood

Post by Wormwood » January 20th, 2023, 5:13 pm

* a letter handled off some time ago *

Vera,

I thought I’d just write this to get it off my mind and maybe it will help me understand the situation and feelings I’m having towards it. My hope is maybe you’ll find the time to write a short letter addressing this and perhaps anything else you think might be lingering there between us.

Falling back into your family ways worries me a great deal. You ran from that, and I know it’s what you think you know and how you can best help people but I’m worried how that work is going to change the woman I fell in love with.

It won’t and can’t be easy and I know you know that already. You’ll have endless hard choices to make, alone, without me. Choices I can only fathom and decisions I worry I will struggle with should I understand them some day, as I get word of them.

I know you think by doing this you can help protect me from the ills of this world, but in doing so I also fear the next brute or schemer that looks on your position with jealousy. In an organization like that you never know I imagine what people are thinking and I also imagine it’s expected for people to go behind backs to get what they want, seeing the sort it might draw. A smart person won’t let you see it coming - maybe this is what happened to Jandanar? I’m not sure I want to know.

I also worry that not knowing will leave me in a spot where I’m unable to help you, support you or address what troubles your mind. It will lead to emotional distance between the both of us.

Selfishly I also fear you might fall into a spot where you seek or fall for another man that offers something I can’t and as this job hardens you, you see my relative personality in terms of what you think you have to do, as weak. Paired with the distance you need to keep me, I’ll end up just a token lover? Writing this sounds ugly and I know our relationship isn’t traditional but I think it will lead to things staying more casual and if that is something you see with me long term - I think I understand. I think I can be okay with that even though I imagine it might eat at me slowly - time would be the true test and I’m not sure we could do anything but let that play out.

If that man really wants the role, why not let him have it? He has sense, has the charm, wants to be close to Drusilla and is willing to make those hard choices I think. I feel like he would let you get away with a lot, let you pull away if you needed and the target would be taken off your head as well as these overarching decisions that might change you. It would make things easier for us as a couple publicly in Praesidium as well.

I’m not sure what I should do - lingering around Praesidium feels wrong at the moment. Maybe the parish and Lucien will find some hidden grace to let me make a life here but I’m not sure they have it in them. I think if I leave Praesidium to settle elsewhere everything above will happen no matter what; piling on actual distance between us as well as the emotional distance I mentioned above. Could we make it work, probably?

Do I just throw my lot in with you and this organization? You have other easterners. My name is already being dragged through the mud so maybe you all wouldn’t want the burden of it. Maybe it will help harden me? You’ve never asked, so I imagine it’s not something you wanted in the first place and you probably think I couldn’t or wouldn’t want to commit? I’m willing to give it a go, if only to keep you closer to me, so I can better understand the struggles you're facing.

Part of me wishes we could just fade into the wilderness somewhere with a cabin, a small farm and play couple but I know you want more; want to keep you, me, and others safe.

I know I fell into the role of Reeve for Highfield eagerly; that sense of pride over something, over the ability to shape the lives of others is nice until you lose yourself to it. You are stronger than me and I think you're better suited to manage it but it feels wrong being with you and not helping you through them. I know I wish I had you at my side when things went wrong.

Consider these words as my truth, I love you and I hope we can find a solution that makes sense to give us the best chance at a future.

Love,

Jakell Lily Wormwood

Wormwood
Posts: 91
Character: Jakell Wormwood

Re: The Legacy of Jakell Wormwood

Post by Wormwood » January 20th, 2023, 8:52 pm

Image

He was late for a funeral but it might as well be his own.

Laying in a pool of blood slowly growing out from multiple lacerations Jakell rests his cheek against the dirty, stinking fur, eyes closed. He finds himself in darkness; with one eye too swollen shut anyway and the other too weak from blood loss to keep open. The high-sun of midday is unable to pierce the cold edge to the weather.

He barely remembered crawling here to this collapsing hovel, half-conscious through mud and mire just in case his attackers returned to where they last dropped him. A quick blessing found his thoughts. Thanking the Archangel that they had found a sliver of mercy or simply had the lack of foresight and removed the bindings around his limbs before taking off. As weak as he felt he wasn’t surprised; he could only imagine what he looked like if the intense pain was any indication now; he likely appeared dead to them, lost to some sort of shock.

There were a couple times he’d been beaten during his life but never this bad. This was different, this wasn’t just a simple mugging, these men or women had meant to see him dead.

There was so much blood, he would feel it gummy and sticky on his skin where the slashes had rendered his clothing apart, exposing that shredded flesh to the chilly air.

The swamp was eerily quiet this time of year, offering little more than the whisper of wind through creaking branches of softwoods. But the southern boy could hear the repetitive crashing of waves not far off and knew he was very close to the Pearl Sea even though his other senses failed him at this moment.

The cold kept his brain awake and the waves offered just enough nostalgia and comfort to keep him from losing himself to the shock he fell to earlier.

His mind when not rattled by the pain, falling in and out of consciousness turned back to the “i love yous” shared just an hour before as he watched the woman of his life walk away from him towards the funeral that awaited her. He leaned on the door of the apartment knowing to engage himself in this moment and watch her turn towards the stairwell and disappear; very well knowing it could be his last glimpse of her.

Every moment these days had been treated like that; borrowed time - time he was thankful for. Time he knew to treasure.

People around Praesidium often thought he was joking about his death incoming, but Jakell knew better; there was no mirth or dark humor behind his comments. He had first hand experience how deeply the ill inside a person could suffocate that light of reason. How easy it was to lose oneself to a choice, a direction, to give into fear or hate. He had once, forever part of his legacy.

With great effort and with the last of his fading strength his slender hand reaches into his small shoulder satchel, grasping around blindly for something, hoping it wasn’t taken.

The swollen fingers produce a throwing knife with a carved wooden handle, carefully polished and lovingly treated into the shape of a siren; the blade simple tool iron but sharpened just enough to sink into a dart board; not flesh. The hand grips around it, holding it tight to his chest.

He lays there, the afternoon Icereign sun offering no warmth but perhaps that is a blessing as the freezing air chills him, slowing his blood loss. His last thoughts before again losing consciousness are of the woman he loves; mind played off by the crashing of waves against rocky shores.



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9C_qzTfMOIo
Another Story - The Head And The Heart

These are just flames
Burning in your fireplace
I hear your voice and it seems
As if it was all a dream
I wish it was all a dream
I see a world
A world turning in on itself
Are we just like
Hungry wolves howling in the night
I don't want no music tonight
Can we go on like it once was
Every time I hear another story
Oh the poor boy lost his head
Everybody feels a little crazy
But we go on living with it
Yeah they go on living with it
These are just flames
Burning in your fireplace
I hear your voice and it seems
As if it was all a dream
I wish it was all a dream
Can we go on like it once was
Can we go on like it once was
Every time I hear another story
Oh the poor boy lost his head
Everybody feels a little crazy
But we go on living with it
Yeah they go on living with it
I'll tell you one thing
We ain't gonna change much
The sun still rises
Even with the pain
I'll tell you one thing
We ain't gonna change love
The sun still rises
Even through the rain
Can we go on like it once was
Can we go on like it once was
Everybody feels a little crazy
Like it once was
Everybody feels a little crazy
Like it once was
Can we go on like it once was
Last edited by Wormwood on February 15th, 2023, 9:23 pm, edited 3 times in total.

Wormwood
Posts: 91
Character: Jakell Wormwood

Re: The Legacy of Jakell Wormwood

Post by Wormwood » January 25th, 2023, 9:12 pm

* a poem wrote and stashed somewhere; living with many others *

What stories would our bones tell if they had rings like trees?
Circles marking the times
when you felt loved,
when you grieved,
when you did something that required every last ounce of your courage,
when you were full of faith.

That is how our hearts work,
a rhythmic thrum,
chronicling your life in the shadows of your flesh -
mysterious even to it's owner.

And someday,
we might learn that it was drawing a map for the soul to navigate the real final frontier.

-JLW

Wormwood
Posts: 91
Character: Jakell Wormwood

Re: The Legacy of Jakell Wormwood

Post by Wormwood » January 28th, 2023, 4:55 pm

* a letter handed over to be delivered some days ago *

Miss Harlow,

I thought this might be worth adding if you still have time to use it for the paper or deem it worthy of its space. I figure you already have something written but if you can pluck out something that pulls things together, you are more than welcomed to it.

______________________________________________________________________________________________
I understand my guilt. I burnt the empty husks of buildings in Highfield in fear of the First Torian taking the village over once I stepped down or was forced out. This caused a great deal of mistrust, anger and helped result in the countless deaths that Primus in Teneborough, which me and my lover at the time, Flynn Barringon, fled too for safety and a new start. No one died in Highfield. After getting the blessing of the Assembly, we spent an evening moving the contents of those buildings to Teneborough and when the first lantern went to roof there was no one within the village. Most of the remaining citizens were there to take what they thought was theirs that evening. We were prepared to return the property to those that weren’t if they had chosen not to join us.

I also understand that fleeing the trial offered only deepened the hatred for me. It was clear though that Lucien Silvercrest, the man who was organizing it had only our deaths in mind. I understand, as a former Legionnaire the actions in Highfield appeared an act of betrayal and I was; am still in love with Vera Shelby - his estranged wife. Many wouldn’t fault him for wanting me dead but he also refuses to accept his part in the maddening relationship he fostered between the three of us.

I am not a monster; just a man driven by fear, frustration, jealousy and pride. I gave into my ills but I also understand them for what they are.

When I returned a year and a half after those events, I right away went about trying to send letters to people I know I harmed. I attempted with the assistance of Constantine to set up a meeting with the De Ravin parish to talk and perhaps find a solution other than just my death; some mercy or penitence in which I could work towards.

The respectful distance I kept until this meeting happened was met with the Parish telling members to not speak with me and before that meeting took place I was attacked, beaten countless times and left for dead by two men and a woman - one of which I know is Lucien Silvercrest.

I fear that in the bid for my death now another situation like Teneborough could happen. It’s the last thing I want - I wish we could all just find a solution and move beyond this quest for vengeance. Obviously I don’t want to die? I know I can still offer a lot to this Province and its people as a tradesman.

I have nothing left but my life to give to this community and those still with us. If it is the decision of these readers and that same community at large to grant me mercy - I will strive to serve in this state of repentance, humbled by this gift I don't deserve. Otherwise if you, or anyone you know requires compensation or some other form of satisfaction that I can provide, please reach out to me directly or in letter. I would be willing and thankful for the opportunity to break bread or find a solution to help mend what my actions or lack thereof resulted in.

Yours in service,
Jakell Wormwood

Wormwood
Posts: 91
Character: Jakell Wormwood

Re: The Legacy of Jakell Wormwood

Post by Wormwood » June 4th, 2023, 11:45 pm

-Life Isn’t Fair Jakell-

The young man paced slowly, back and forth, feeling confined by the musty, cramped quarantine room in Fort Praesidium’s hospital.

Lit only by his small lantern propped up against the wall nearest to the body laid out below him, it’s flickering light casting shadows over the sunken eyes and blood speckled silvered blonde hair.

The body of Lucien Silvercrest.

It was those words from Lucien, “Life Isn’t Fair Jakell” that still hit him the hardest over the years; how hollow and without remorse they sounded to him after coming to bear his heart to Lucien that final time, weeks before the fire in Highfield.

He knew at that moment that any semblance of friendship and respect between them was gone. There would be no understanding; no compromise from this man and that would be the way forward. Those words, while meant to carry hard truths had the reverse effect; rocking Jakell’s core, easily turning himself victim and breaking something already fragile inside of him.

The silence of the quarantine room was broken a moment later, his voice lifting to shout and stare daggers down at the body resting there; as uncaring of Jakell’s outbursts just as it felt like he was in life.


“We could have both kept loving her. You knew she had it in her! You bastard! You selfish fucking bastard.”

His lips working against each other, fists balled, knuckles going white. Shaking, he screams.

“None of this would have happened. You self-righteous prick; you never could admit to yourself that she could love me in the ways she loved you. You could never give an inch. Never viewed me as an equal.”

The pacing resumes but the raised, almost frantic tone to his voice lingers as he stops, turns and lands a kick into the side of Lucien’s body. A second later he pulls back as if in disgust, face twisting sour he looks away, forehead wracked in misery.

“You said if I hurt her you would end me; well - look at yourself now you piece of shit. Everything since Tene tore pieces from her. Everything you’ve done since I returned to Praesidium has hollowed out more. Are you happy! Are you fucking happy?!”

Ressuming pacing, his hands come together over his nose and mouth - not prying his eyes from the body as his words come more steady.

“Life IS Fair, mate, and that’s what's so unfair about it. We all end up in the dirt but I will spend the rest of my life filling those holes you left. My love is just as valuable.”

Wormwood
Posts: 91
Character: Jakell Wormwood

Re: The Legacy of Jakell Wormwood

Post by Wormwood » June 7th, 2023, 5:13 pm

-The Last Chance-

Jakell stood facing the standing mirror in the De Ravin’s shop of all places, tugging at the new coat’s collar to straighten it. He was hoping the women were honest and sold him everything in black like he wanted but seeing his reputation with the Parish he wouldn’t be surprised if he was walking around in deep shades of purple. His color blindness, or rather, inability to tell some colors apart was well known to those nearest to him and it often came up during shopping for clothing because of simple necessity.

His thoughts took him back a few days to a memory of when young miss Celdea walked up to him as she had in the past to engage in small talk. She mentioned an encounter at the memorial park she had with Lucien a few days before his death.

Celdea’s spoke about Lucien, mentioning he was
“considering giving him another chance” after inquiring why he looked so glum.

While there was no mention of Jakell’s name, those words still stopped Jakell in his tracks for a second - sending his brows pinching tight now as they did then when he considered the deeper implication.

Thinking back he could still hear the words that left his lips to Celdea..
“Well, a little too late isn’t it - if it wasn’t just another of his games. I don’t mean to speak ill of the dead.”

But at the time and even now he was left questioning as his words turned internal.

“No, Lucien knew I held onto the hope that he would see light at some point; that he would come around and grant me a measure of mercy - finally stop insisting that I was simply irredeemable - deserving of nothing but exile or death. A threat to Vera and well, everyone?

Lucien liked to play games with me, but what if ? What if the bully was finally having a turn of heart? No, it had to be just another of his games - it had to be. The man was making another play. He had already tried to kill me, there just is no coming back from that, right?”


His gaze lifts hesitantly to the two De Ravin merchants watching him, through the mirror - whispering quietly between themselves and giving him disapproving looks even though they had yet to take his money for the jacket.

Turning his eyes back to his hands, they start to fiddle with the many buckles of the new black leather jerkin; putting the two women out of mind for the moment and falling back into another more recent memory.

Replaying the scene, the foggy form of Weylin appears there. Both him and Jakell standing in a large empty room; windows casting dusk light across the space
. “You know Lucien was trying to start up a casino again somewhere near Miltown - even spoke to Niv about running the women”, Weylin mentioned.

Jakell knew the Casino well, “The Last Chance” - he was there on opening night, trying to be polite and support Lucien and Vera’s new venture as a married couple even though it bothered him that the two Legionnaires at the time were playing whore house operators and likely high on green caps while doing so. The man brought out the worst in her but it wasn’t his place at that point to say anything. He thought back to clearing up at the tables that night and leaving happy though; one of the better memories from back in those days - before he broke, before he lost hope in a future among them.

“What was the play? Was it spite, was he jealous of the modest success I had with my Aedenshyr Seven game. Did he simply want to one up me and hold his own poker games to draw people away?

Or could this have been what he meant when he spoke with Celdea, to offer me a “last chance” as a table operator, get me close and end me on his own clock the first chance I stepped out of line or looked at Vera the wrong way?

Or was it truly a leaf being turned?......”


Snapping the final jerkin clasp he turns to take one last look in the mirror, sliding on a matching black cap and crossing the shop to the counter to pass over a small pouch filled with silver.

“Thank you ladies. Tell Grae her work has gotten even better. Worth every silver.”

Giving them a polite if empty smile, his brows still pinched from the recent internal debate, the young man turns to the double doors and pushes outward through them stepping down the steps. He moves quietly down Back Street towards Memorial Park, entering it and turning his eyes up momentarily to the statue of Jo atop the fountain before slipping down to sit on the bench across from it.

His words turn internal again, casting his eyes upwards, beyond the foundation, towards the second story of the new block of apartments and a stretch of dark windows void of light. The words form as thoughts slowly; Jakell resting a hand on the bench where the man who tried to murder him sat once.


“For the record, mate - I hope your heart did break; that you did see a future where we both came away alive even if it was at the last minute. I hope you went to your death with actual doubt; with actual hope for once. Decus and you know I clung to that and tried to instill it in you no matter how hard you denied it or pushed back - no matter how much doubt you had in me, how much hate.

I’ll likely never know and either way I’m sure you're happy I’m left questioning it.”


His eyes break wet suddenly, lips crinkle in a flood of emotion. Jakell’s chest tightens, fighting back as the young man tries to stifle the sobs that want to come freely. His hands moving to quickly wipe away tears and hide them for the man that probably in the end didn’t really give two shits.

The green’ish gray eyes turn back up towards the row of apartments, the whites of them now streaked with red, expression pensive.


“I was going to keep running cards games anyway but I might take the name of the Last Chance for something if not the name of the card hall itself - gentlemen’s club, whatever it ends up being - I don’t know. Everything I end up doing or saying pisses off someone or another.

I never could really wrap my head around what you really wanted. You'd probably hate the idea but I feel it's fitting, name alone, considering everything.”


Slowly rising from the bench his eyes trail over to the memorial plaque for a second before turning back to lift a loose almost mocking legionnaire salute to the bench; to the spot the now dead man sat just days ago.

“Fuck off to your land of bones, mate. Rest well. I'm sorry, for all the fucks that does us now.”

Wormwood
Posts: 91
Character: Jakell Wormwood

Re: The Legacy of Jakell Wormwood

Post by Wormwood » June 16th, 2023, 1:10 am

-The Apple Pie-

The young man quickly spurred on the rental horse, kicking its sides, as he steadied himself atop the beast, barreling down the trade road. He moved the horse on with purpose as if someone might have been behind him giving chase - no one was there as far as he knew but that didn’t shake the urgency he felt to get back to Praesidium. The bright summer moon lent itself to the task; neither requiring even lantern light to guide the way.

Minutes later he found his boots sinking into the sandy beach as he jumped down from the creature; offering it a pat on the neck and an apple from his satchel.

Striding across the sand with a small sack in hand, he combed the area near the water for signs of a recent fire. There! - some bits of burnt driftwood pushed up against a larger log lodged half into the sandy embankment where the tall grasses met the shoreline. The sea had already taken the fire no doubt - it was past high tide and with the moon so full it would have been high. He was surprised to see even the bits of charred wood. Jakell took a few moments to sweep the shoreline, up and down from the water’s edge to the grasses, looking, combing for something. A frown came to face.

Casting his eyes out over the Pearl Sea he worked at the bindings that held the sack closed. Turning back Jakell unceremoniously dumped what would appear to be tiny charred bits of bones among the pieces of blackened driftwood.

A moment later he was off towards the horse chewing on the shoreline grasses but found himself stopping to turn back to the sea, throwing up a lazy - some would say mocking legionnaire salute to the rolling waves.


“Sorry, she’s expecting an apple pie.”

Quickly mounting the mare, his boots sought to spur the creature back north.

He had to hurry; if he left it on over the hearth he was sure it would burn. The coals needed to be hot enough to char bone and he was starting to know the oven well. He couldn’t let it sit for five extra minutes without the crust going black.

Wormwood
Posts: 91
Character: Jakell Wormwood

Re: The Legacy of Jakell Wormwood

Post by Wormwood » June 20th, 2023, 12:02 pm

-Lucky Queens-

Reaching for another face down card the young man pinches his lips considering the already established layout in the game of solitaire. It was something he often did in the quiet hours when Vera was asleep and he needed something easy and quiet by candlelight to bide his time when his insomnia chose to unsettle him.

Flipping it in his hand it revealed itself to be the queen of hearts.

A soft smile breaks as he looks up from his cross legged position on the floor as he moves to rest the card down on the respective king. Vera lay there on the bed, sprawled out, mouth slightly parted with closed eyes turned his direction.

He was glad the gleamgrass spiffs seemed to be doing the trick. It was a habit that got him in trouble in the past with Lucien but he knew enough by now not to overdo it. Another would likely send him nodding off to join her but he had enough today and chose to settle for closing his eyes for a moment to enjoy that rich pungent skunky stink that both of them had grown to love. The smell infused everything in the bedroom at this point and it filled him with comfort.

It was better that one of them stayed up anyway with everything going on.

Three locked doors might not be enough with all the hate, spite and distrust this conflict had brought down on them. He could sleep during the early morning hours and get caught up on his work in the afternoon. Not that much had been selling lately anyway. With other carpenters in the fort now the demand for furniture had gone down. All the more reason to double down on the card parlor and games held there.

The minute hand on the pocket watch set in front of him ticked by but he barely noticed the slow march of time, drawing and moving cards. His thoughts turned internal as the card play continued almost mechanically.


“This all would have happened either way - Lucien or me, the world around her would have fractured in some fashion. This hatred would have seethed in some direction. He was the one that brought death into this; not us. Right?”

“It was just a matter of time before we met together on shore. Our waves, our souls would have crashed back together no matter what.”


Flipping another card, the queen of spades. Seeing the card he smiles to himself again; she’s often portrayed holding a flower and this time is no different with a small yellow lily in hand. He sets it down on the king and everything else on the four neat stacks falls quickly into place.

It was the final card he needed to finish off the round of solitaire.



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zqw9jek0LvQ

All you ever caused was pain
You can say you're sorry, the evidence is on my
Body, but I never complain
I wear it as a lesson, a curse and a blessing

Oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, you're not a prophet
Have you forgotten that you're godless?

Oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, you're on your knees, and
You're tryna speak, beggin' me please, but

Don't even say what you're gonna say
It's too late, too late, baby
Why did you wait to finally change?
It's too late, too late to save me, oh, oh, oh

You watched me
Burn, burn, burn
You watched me
Burn, burn, burn
You watched me

I don't even pity your pain
You can use it as a weapon, but I won't ever let it
Pull me back under again
I let you fool me once, but now I'm dead and gone

Oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, you're not a prophet
Have you forgotten that you're godless?
Oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, you're on your knees, and
You're tryna speak, beggin' me please, but

Don't even say what you're gonna say
It's too late, too late, baby
Why did you wait to finally change?
It's too late, too late to save me, oh, oh, oh

You watched me
Burn, burn, burn
You watched me
Burn, burn, burn
You watched me

Burn, burn, burn
You watched me
Burn, burn, burn
You watched me

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