Thalassophile

Jack Connolly Manadan Ageless Tired God of the Sea

[jackconnolley]

Uly, despite her regular and thorough abuse of sarcastic humor, found her hackles rising in annoyance at the god’s snappy retort. To her knowledge, she had done nothing to deserve his ire. She could understand people who simply wanted to be left alone, their business kept personal. Those who extended that into being snappy and rude to every person they came in contact with? Uly found she had very little patience for them, god or not.

Uly felt her patience for Manannan’s persona reach its end, her minor humor fizzling out like a snuffed candle as she listened to his talk of the bar. “If you don’t need anything else, I was just closing up.” A blatant lie, and one she found she didn’t particularly care if he spotted. Once, she had been besotted with Manannan, hell, she’d even spent a few years researching his brothers and sisters in the Tuatha de Danann. Now, faced with how utterly human his personality was, she wanted nothing more than the solitary company of her runes.

He would not talk to her. That was his choice. She would not force his hand.

Jack was not offended. He had, after all, carefully crafted a personality for himself that set people off. If one was too decent all the time, people thought one ought to be nice. They wanted to chat, and then they wanted to be friends and then they would want things from him. Jack did not want the responsibility of people depending on him, just the thought of it was enough to make him itch with an urge to go somewhere else. Clearly, after all, he had not done well with responsibility in the past. If he had, perhaps his brother would still be at his side. But that was not the case, and now Jack had no intentions of allowing anyone to slip past his barriers (he told himself this as he already knew there had a been a few to succeed). The important thing was that it was a few. The majority reacted as this woman did. 

So Jack straightened, collected his books, and tipped his head at her. “I’m sure you are.” He replied, voice even and not allowing the the vague amusement he felt. She could have asked him to leave just as easily, and it would not have bothered him. The thing about being a god, is people read stories and heard myths, and the created an idea of who the god was. They would not take into account beginning as a human, having the same thoughts and feelings, one lost the privilege of being human and flawed. This was why he preferred to keep his identity to himself; nothing was expected of him so long as he was nothing but a surly human man. “Have a wonderful evening.” He told her, exiting the small room. 

[jackconnolley]

“With the stuff that goes on in Ceres Centropolis, I need to bolster up my imagination or else it just seems normal,” Hunter admitted.  So, while the man coming out of the sea seemed like it would get complete shock and awe from everyone, it was a welcomed feat in Ceres.  He shrugged, “I mean, you could be tuna.  As Jessica Simpson says, tuna is the chicken of the sea.”  Hunter laughed, shaking his head.  There was a heaviness in the air of Ceres and while Hunter knew he couldn’t lift all of it up, he could try to make light of situations that could reach.  "But if you wanted to be a bird, I bet you would be a great one,“ Hunter said, nodding with seriousness.

Hunter rose an eyebrow at the man.  Then laughed.  As someone who has been shrouded in secrecy and swam in his constant tales to cover said secrets, Hunter wasn’t inclined to believe him.  Especially since he just watched the man step out of the ocean and come out completely dry.  He shrugged, "Okay …sure, you are.”  While he didn’t believe him, Hunter wasn’t the type to press on for a confession.  Especially when it didn’t seem like the man wanted to share.  "I guess, you’re just as much of a regular man as I am.“

“It has paid off.” Jack replied evenly. There were enough wonders in the city they lived in, that Jack could feel confident that this memory would be a mere blip as soon as the man saw something else worthy of awe. Really, walking out of the sea seemed to be only a minor act in this place. He was not flying, stepping out of time or walking on top of the water (though he could do that one as well). “That is certainly inventive.” He was a little more dubious in that response, searching his brain for how recent that reference was. He thought he had heard it before. He was beginning to think maybe it was time to invest in a tv. “Your vote of confidence means everything to me, really.” 

“Glad you agree.” It was obvious that he didn’t. It was also obvious that he wasn’t going to push the issue, which meant that Jack did not have a problem with him. “I’ve no idea how regular you are, so I’m afraid I can neither agree nor disagree with that.” He pointed out. Chances were, the man was something extreme himself. Jack made a habit of not judging based off of appearances. 

[jackconnolley]

Uly had always had a soft spot for mythical horses ever since she’d met Phaethon, one of the two immortal steeds of Eos, the Grecian goddess of dawn. She was almost offended when he mentioned her attempting to wrest control of the horse or attempt to command him. Firstly, she knew better than that… secondly, she would never seek mastery over another living creature; she wouldn’t even dream of commanding something as majestic and beautiful as a horse.

“I would be disappointed if you were.” She replied simply, watching him do his writing and subsequently cast the spell. As she did so, she activated the charm on her left pinky, causing her eyes to shimmer an unnatural icey blue. Her vision overlayed with colorful whorls and wisps. This ability - one she’d dubbed ‘magic-sight’ - helped her see spells being cast while also enhancing her own finetuned movement. In it, Jack had come alive in a whirlwind of color as he weaved his magic - no matter how simple. It was something she often saw with gods and it never got any less astonishing to watch. Her own casting paled by comparison.

Listening to him speak she simply nodded along, committing his words to memory as she absently stood back up with her arms folding over her chest. “You don’t engage with humans often, do you?” She inquired her attention on him rather than the page. The longer she spent time around the deity, she more she found him deeper than she had first assumed. He was not merely walled off, he was something… else. And she wanted to know. As much as she could without making the man toss her out a window, that is.

“Many would not.” He knew too many people, creatures or otherwise who would prefer to take control over whatever they could. He did not know this woman at the moment, didn’t know what type of person she was or what she might want out of life. Whether she was a scholar, looking to learn, or a fighter, looking to conquer. He would have far more patience with the first. While it didn’t sound like the second was the case, Jack had learned over time that words meant very little as it came to these things. The did not mean the same thing as intention, unfortunately. Now it took actions, to convince him of someone’s character. 

“Yes, and I’m very concerned with how you think of me.” He told her absently. He didn’t know if she would pick up on the sarcastic nature of the response, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. Setting the quill back down, he emptied what was left in the cap of his flask into his mouth, then took another swig from the flask itself. The he capped it, and slid it back into his coat pocket. This whole encounter was a little too full of truth for him to be completely comfortable with it. 

He glanced up at her. His eyebrows knitted together, expression less pleasant than it had been already. “I’ve a bar here in town with plenty of patrons, if that’s what you’re asking. There is a difference between not wanting to engage with people and not engaging with people, and I do fit into the first.” He had more interactions with humans than he would care for, in the long run. Really, more interactions with anyone. Humans were typically the most bearable of the bunch, they did not think quite as much of themselves as other things did. 

[jackconnolley]

Uly remained where she was, studying him for a long few seconds that ticked by in almost awkward silence before she simply… laughed. She hadn’t had something so blunt said to her in a very long time and the refreshing nature of it softened her mood. “So be it.” She said simply, standing once more before moving to a nearby cupboard by the door to retrieve paper and  quill - she too was a fan of the old fashioned… albeit, for her, that meant plain charcoal or feathered papyrus. She handed both items to the man without a word.

The name of the creature he referred to was telling in and of itself. Uly prided herself on having knowledge of nearly every god in existence… of course, she struggled to remember some of the minor gods, but often they were the most interesting. So characteristic a mount as Enbarr was definitely difficult to forget, especially given she’d spent a good portion of her early life worshiping not only Manannan, but Danu as well. She was beyond such things now, of course, but they still had a soft spot in her heart from her time with Atticus.

She knew he was in no mood to speak of himself - he had gone to such awkward lengths to make that much clear. Uly was merely frustrated that she hadn’t been aware of Manannan’s presence in the area… she usually liked to keep a tab on gods who took up residence nearby. Flidais had obviously not given her the whole story… Something to follow up on later.

“I thought you rather attached to your horse, though?” She inquired. The fact that he was willing to give away that spell piqued her interest. Uly hopped back up onto the counter as she waited, watching him with distinct curiosity.

Jack remained more or less inexpressive when she laughed. She still had so much energy, which somehow served to make him feel even older. He had certainly not been made to be around this long, or he wouldn’t feel so stretched and thin after all this time. He was tired, but he knew it was nothing that sleep could cure. He took the paper and quill when she offered, finding short sort of inn table, and leaning over it. He set the supplies down, digging in his coat to pull out his flask, open and pour a small amount of the salt water inside into the cap. It was clear, but when he dipped the quill in it then set the quill to the paper, it bled out a deep, blue black. He started writing, filling about a page in the same old druidic tongue of the book she had given him. When he finished, he spoke a word which was drowned out in a distant clap of thunder, then folded the paper in half. 

“Make no mistake, I am not giving you ownership, nor the ability to command him. Only to call him.” He felt that needed to be clear. He would give nobody the ability to command anything, he did not trust other people half enough for that. Time and experience had taught him not to trust, especially when he had only just met someone. 

“It is his choice what he does once he gets there. If he deems you worthy, you may be allowed to ride him. If not, the spell is useless. He’s not a creature to be captured.” It was much more than Jack was used to speaking at once, but it was all things which needed to be said. “And the spell is not to be sold. I made sure of that.” 

[jackconnolley]

Uly was glad he didn’t press her further - some memories she didn’t need dug up, let alone by someone she barely knew. Hell, she didn’t even know the man’s name. Some people, when they realized that she was older than was normal, began to ask her all sorts of questions about the past. It got annoying very quickly.

“Spells don’t interest me very much.” She said honestly, studying him with that same relaxed gaze. “I said secrets.” Her smile broadening a fraction. In truth, she had once thought to spend her life collecting spells in one of the greatest tomes of knowledge every written… she’d quickly realized not only was that endeavor pointless, it was also incredibly boring. She had come to that conclusion not long after realizing that there were three hundred and nine different spells to make one’s genitals change in size.

Goddamn Nordic standards.

“If you are uncomfortable paying that price, don’t. Leave the books behind though.” She said honestly. She was not running a charity, after all. She knew to ask such things of a stranger was bordering on unreasonable, but such was the price of knowledge. Money had no value to those who had lived through more than a hundred changes in standard currency.

“You assume that the spell itself isn’t a secret.” Jack pointed out calmly. He had few secrets he was willing to part with for a stranger. There was always the location of the entrance to the Otherworld, or the fountain of youth, both secrets he felt it was his purpose in life to protect and keep to himself. To give those up was to give up what he was meant to be protecting, and no books were worth that. “But if you truly prefer it, I’ve plenty of nonsense truths to tell that have no value behind them. Clearly that would be better than a spell crafted by myself which will allow you to call Enbarr.” 

He doubted she would know who or what that was. The name itself was a secret, if she cared to spend any time researching it. It would tell her the truth of who he was, naming the horse that had been a companion of his for centuries, who could run across the ocean like solid land. There was no match for it when it came to other deity’s, and if that was insufficient for her, he would not be doing business for her. Anyone who could not appreciate what a thing that was, was not anyone he had any intentions of sharing further secrets with. “The choice is up to you, my dear. I am in no desperate need of these books, and I’ve quite the collection of my own.” 

[jackconnolley]

Uly tensed a fraction at his apology for her loss - though she knew she hadn’t exactly hidden it well, she absolutely hated being seen through. The amount of effort she put into building those walls made it all the more frustrating when someone came and poked their head through a gap. Uly smothered her emotions for the moment, arms folding over her chest with another series of metallic jangles that were unavoidable and inconsequential at that moment.

As she watched him tuck the books under his arm, she mentally bid the pair farewell as she always did when selling books from this collection. Each held memories and, thankfully, she knew she’d never forget any of them now that she’d re-read them. These books were as much a part of her as her skin, they would never truly be taken away. Regardless, moved over to a shelf nearby - the surface of which currently empty - before jumping up to sit on it in a decidedly youthful fashion. She studied him then, leaning her elbows on her knees while letting her hands dangle loosely.

“Here is best. The wards mean nobody will hear but me. I assume that is what you’d prefer.” Uly said honestly.

Jack let it go, at that. He had no interest in a heart to heart about their pasts, and she appeared no more keen to talk about it than him. He thought that perhaps that came with age. Things became regular in life, while people passed by in a blur of faces and secrets and rarely lasted long enough to be worth sharing with. When one did find someone worth sharing with, the past was the last thing one wished to dwell on. 

A part of him wished he had her energy. He had never really known it, though. Even as a child, he had been more solemn than his peers, really too far back to even remember clearly now. He had always been an old soul, time only growing him into his ancient personality. He set the books down again, hands clasped briefly as he tried to decide how exactly he was going to do this, what exactly he would give her. Some secrets were too dangerous to give away. “I’ll need some paper, and a quill, if you have it.” It wasan’t that he was opposed to the modern convention of pens, but when it came to these things, he became a little more sentimental and old-fashioned. Whether or not it affected the magic, he wasn’t sure. “I assume a spell of my own will do? It has been a while, but I’m confident I could pass something of worth along.” 

[jackconnolley]

Uly watched him wave away the dust with an utterance, an eyebrow perking. Still pretending to be a human there, huh? Though she didn’t bother pointing it out. She herself had spent hours perfecting her day to day mannerisms to avoid any cracks of her past self slipping through. It wasn’t something that the average sorcerer or meta-human was willing to waste their time on. To pick them out, you just had to be willing to look for those subtle uses of magic that most weren’t even aware they’d done.

Watching the reverence with which the god retrieved the book made Uly smile slightly. She always prided herself on being a good judge of taste and she could see she’d struck home with this one. His question regarding her ownership of it brought out a physical pain deep in her chest at the memory. Throughout the years, she’d forced herself never to develop relationships with people. Falling in love with someone unable to live as long as you do is a surefire way to heartbreak. In truth, she could see how easy it was to view humans as if they were mere pets; kept for small periods of time before they expired, only to be replaced by another. It was an easy trap of thinking to fall into when you had lived as long as she had.

Atticus has stolen her heart without even trying, something about those wistful eyes, his sarcastic humor and his love of life had brought Uly out of nearly a century of darkness she hadn’t even realized she had been in. She had been in the process of crafting another necklace for him when he’d died and no amount of charmwork or magic had brought him back.

“I knew the writer. It was a gift.” She said softly, playing off the emotion welling up behind her eyes as she turned away to study the bookshelves. She’d already said to much in saying she knew the writer, it gave a hint as to her age. That said, the druids had died off only a millennia ago, so perhaps she was safe in that regard.

Jack could have gone on pretending; he did usually try at least a little harder than this. But the fact was that she was already aware of his otherness, and had already more or less agreed to let it go. Whether she did or not depended entirely upon her, not how well he pretended (which was never with much effort, if he was being honest). Not many people looked for the little things that told the truth, he wouldn’t put forth so much work for the small number of people that did. Besides, magic was something that even a human could use. Not his magic, but very few people could make that distinction. 

That certainly answered some unasked questions. He didn’t have to look at the contents alone to see the age of the book, the outside cover could tell him how old it was. If she had known the writer, she had to be very old indeed. His eyes had turned to her instead of the book, carefully observant. He nodded, shut the book. “I’m sorry for the loss.” He offered. He was not stupid, after all. Words carried more weight than most people realized, and the fact that she now refused to meet his eyes spoke volumes. She had lost someone dear to her, family, or a lover. This was where Jack was lucky. He had dim memories of his parents, volatile memories of his brother, and he had been lucky enough to never fall in love. 

Maybe some would call that a curse. Jack had come to convince himself that he was incapable of the emotion, though he’d had friends and other people close to him. Perhaps he had even loved some of them, in a platonic manner. But other than that, he had escaped the fate of heartbreak thus far. Still, he was old enough to recognize the signs of it in someone else. Gathering the first book from the shelf he had set it on, he balanced the two in his arms. “I believe this will suffice for the time being. Where would you prefer to settle the matter of payment?” 

[jackconnolley]

Jack had given her the time she asked for. He hadn’t pulled her from the stool. He hadn’t talked her ear off for the thirty seconds she sat there He had let her have her thirty seconds. As soon as she stood up, though, she knew he wasn’t going to let her walk on her own. What she hadn’t expected, was for him to actually throw her over his shoulder. “Woah, woah woah, Pirate Jack…easy…” She didn’t fight him much as he adjusted her on his shoulder but she did pat him on his back a few times with flat palms. He was remarkably strong; something else she hadn’t really expected from him. Not that he was weak looking but then again, she was also very petite. She was almost positive that anyone could lift her, Cass included.

“I never said I was a saint. I know I’m not a saint. I’m making someone carry me home because I can’t handle my liquor. That’s not saintly…that’s stupid.” She groaned and dropped her hands to dangle behind him. “You don’t even know where you’re going. What if I live a half an hour away, hmm? And yes, you are more than one color. And one of the colors is not mean, it’s nice. You’re radiating nice colors right now…like a…a muddled coral.”

“That is not my name.” He replied, giving her another moment to orient herself before he started walking. It would be just like to her wind up thrashing about until she managed to make them both fall over, which would be quite the accomplishment. “And keep your hands to yourself, please.” Not that he was too concerned with her trying anything; he did think she saw him as more of a paternal figure. He couldn’t say which one was worse, honestly. He supposed that when it came to Addie, this was preferable. 

“Do you lose your ability to understand sarcasm while drunk?” He asked, feeling her go limp as he pushed out of the bar. He turned to the right and kept on walking. It would be enough on his part to dump her outside the bar and keep moving, but there was really no point in pretending that he had any intentions of doing so. “I know where you live, Adelaide. And it’s not far, else you wouldn’t waste your time coming to the Crusty Lemon.” He would not explain why he knew where she lived, that on nights when the city felt particularly restless, he followed some home to be sure they got there safely. “Isn’t that just a lovely picture.”

[jackconnolley]

This collection of texts was one of Uly’s most prized possessions… but not for the mundane reason that the books had taken nearly two millennia to collect. No, these books, having been collected over the course of Uly’s entire life, were one of the only roadmaps to her own past that she had access to. On one bookshelf were the texts she’d collected in her first two centuries, and reading through them Uly had remembered a great deal of that time in her life. The same could be said for the other dusty tomes littering this room, each held stories beyond words on a page… they were her life.

As she watched the man peruse the collection, she couldn’t help but smile ruefully as he passed over each text. As he hefted To Catch a Mermaid and tucked it under his arm with an almost aggressive energy, her smile faltered a fraction.

‘How many have you hunted, Arvid?’ Uly said, turning the fresh text over in her hands. It smelled of the ocean, of fish, of blood.

‘A few thousand… What does it matter? Glory is worth every drop.’ Those words arose an anger in Uly so deep she thought she might physically catch fire. Around them the ocean roared in answer, waves crashing in an ever-present war with the shoreline. ‘I’m sorry, old friend’ Uly said, a shimmering blade made of shadow forming in her right hand as she lifted her gaze to meet his own. Seeing the lack of remorse there, the hate, her resolve hardened.

The memory was a bitter one. Staring at the text in the god’s hands, she couldn’t help but nod once. Perhaps it best be destroyed, as the man no doubt intended it to be. She would not stop him.

Jack asking for recommendations made Uly lift her eyes, blinking away the cobwebs of nostalgia as she scrounged her mind a moment before nodding. “Mhm.” She paced over towards one of the corner shelves, crouching down to retrieve a dusty tome wrapped in a flexible cotton-fiber. The book, wedged right in the corner, had a distinct air of age. 

Uly, back when she had been optimistic about the future of mankind, had spent years with the first Celtic druids. She had celebrated Imbolc, she had learned from the fferyllt… She’d even tried her hand at the druidic craft and found she had no skill for it. Centuries later when the druids had all but been wiped out, she had wept at Brighid’s feet. The goddess had pointed her towards a roaming druid by the name of Atticus who - when she had finally found him on the coast of eastern Australia - had been seeking to commune the elementals of the ocean and the elementals of the land. A difficult task as any, he had documented every single step along the way in the dusty tome Uly now held. Atticus had died like his brothers and sisters, hunted for his abilities by those too barbaric to understand the finer crafts of druidic lore. 

“Perhaps this.” Uly said simply, her voice somber as she paced over to the man, offering the tome in an outstretched hand.

Jack caught the slightly bothered look to flicker across her face at his selection. So be it. He’d spent too many years at sea, too many years around sailors and pirates, all who spread viscous stories about the creatures of the deep. But he had met sea monsters and sea witches, and sirens and mermaids, until they were more of his kind than humans were. That was not to say that there weren’t bad ones in the bunch, but it came down to being different, and no creature liked that which was different immediately. 

Or perhaps, she merely caught a falter in her smile because she thought he was going to use the book. As if he would need a book, if that’s what he was setting out to do. Either way, she did not stop him from the selection, and he kept it tucked firmly under his arm. Such a thing did not need to exist, anymore. He was no protective god anymore, no longer the Son of the Sea, as they had once called him, but he still would do what he could for what he still considered his home. There were no old gods left to protect it, after all. They had all been choked out under trash and - he needed to move his mind away from this subject. Jack did not like to get angry, after all, and that was the road it led him towards. 

His eyes followed her, crouching in a corner and waiting patiently for her to come up with a piece obviously worn with age. He suffered to set his other book down on a nearby shelf, where it would be easy enough to retrieve again, then reached with care for the one she offered. This felt as though it was the right place for it, so Jack whispered under his breath and the dust lifted away from the cover and fell to the floor instead. He pulled it open, scanning the ancient script and finding that something felt right about seeing the dead language again. So many tongues had been lost to time. 

“I have not seen such works in a very long time.” He turned a page, with care. It was meticulously done, the kind of thing he would have expected to have been burned in earlier times. “How did you come to be in possession of such a thing?” 

[jackconnolley]

When he said she needed to go home, she knew where this was heading. Soon after, he stood and she started to pout but then leaned forward and rested her head onto her arms, which were crossed in front of her. This is stupid. You’re pathetic, Addie. Being escorted out of a fucking bar. She inhaled and shook her head, still buried in her arms. “Nope. You’ll have to carry me out.” She was being obstinate. She would get up. “Just give me 30 seconds, okay?” Getting up right now was not on her short list of fun ideas. 25. Other things she would rather do: sit here and continue to whine, text Cass and whine, text Alex photos of her cat and have him respond, eat some solid food that wouldn’t make her sick later, eat some solid food that might make her sick later, watch Tarzan or Fox and the Hound, or any other animated Disney movie. 10. But not move. Certainly not move. 5. She sighed, lifting her head off of the counter. 0.

His hand was extended toward her and she reached for it, sliding off the chair in a remarkably sober fashion despite her lack of sobriety. Then, she took a step. Just a single step. But she stopped. “Nope. Don’t like it.” She wanted to shake her head but the idea of moving herself more was not sitting well with her. 

“Oh, God…I don’t want to take over the world. I want to do the opposite. Or…no, I just…I want to help?” It barely made sense when she tried to think about it sober so it probably wasn’t making much sense disjoined and jumbled right now. “You’re just…you’re being nice and mean at the same time and it’s really confusing. You’re like twelve different colors right now.”

Jack sighed, looking down at the pathetic picture in front of him. Really, he wasn’t sure why he allowed himself to be sucked into these things. He should have just ignored her right from the beginning, but instead, here he was. “You know perfectly well that I will.” Still, he gave her time to stand on her own, waiting to see if she could manage it without his help. “Thirty seconds.” He would see if she would actually hold to that. He knew how this was going to end, and it was not with Addie walking herself safely home. He didn’t think she would even be able to walk in a straight line, yet. He could make her stay and keep drinking water, but chances were that would turn into drinking more liquor, instead. Still, he waited patiently, since he really did have all the time in the world. 

“Alright.” She was going to topple over if she took more than one step, he was certain of that. Even for a human, she was a lightweight when it came to drinking, apparently. In one swift, smooth moment, he bent and wrapped an arm around her legs, lifting her up and letting her fall over his shoulder. “You’re going to make a bigger mess if you attempt to walk yourself.” He informed her, striding towards the door of the bar. 

“Yes, you’re a real saint.” He was about done trying to make any argument with her while she was still intoxicated. Even if there were good points made on either side, they would all be blurry come morning, thus making the entire conversation pointless. “I assure you, I’m just being mean, no need to confuse yourself.”

[jackconnolley]

“I kind of feel like a mess.” She wasn’t paying much attention to what was coming out of her mouth, which was why she was jumping from amused and entertained to sort of melancholy. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, in particular, or any one thing. She was just struggling to keep herself from falling into the daily routine rut. It seemed that the last few weeks had been monotonous and that wasn’t something she enjoyed. On the other end of things, she didn’t want to be constantly surprised. She needed a healthy amount of energy in her life and she just wasn’t getting it. At least, not until Alex had showed up. Alex wasn’t bringing energy, per say, but he brought something different to the table. She liked different. 

“Please don’t throw my out, Pirate Jack.” She saluted him weakly, her hand falling back into her lap. His comment about not wanting to be seen as father figure had her hand raise again, waving him off. She knew he was just trying to make conversation but she hadn’t meant anything mean by it. Sighing, she shook her head, “probably not…but, you know, it’s hard not to imagine being able to when you know the ability exists?” It sounded pretty silly when it came out of her mouth, but that was how she felt. Knowing that she could do more, be more, made it difficult to focus on the abilities that she had.

“You need to go home.” He was certain that if she did not leave soon, this was going to end with her crying on him, an idea he didn’t care for. Of course, the longer she was here, the more he was thinking that he was going to have to be the one to drag her out. She was in one of her moods, likely meaning that she’d found another stray to attempt to mother and make her feel bad about herself. If someone didn’t cut her off, there was no telling what trouble she would get herself into. So rather than wait for it to get worse, Jack pushed off the bar with a sigh and stood. He held out a hand to Addie. “Come on then, don’t make me toss you over my shoulder.” 

Pirate Jack. He rolled his eyes. There was a bad feeling in his stomach that the nickname would not be disappearing anytime soon. Chances were, she would get the entire bar calling him that before the week was up. “I can’t say the desire has ever struck me, but I suppose there are plenty of people in this world always wanting more. Though I will warn, getting caught up in such desires never ends well.” He’d seen too many people swept up in the need to have more and more power, and it was never enough. Truth be told, he would hate to see that happen to Addie. 

[jackconnolley]

Uly smiled idly at his mention about prices, studying him a moment longer from her standing position before shrugging once. She ignored the jangling of her bracelets - what’s done is done - and instead stepped out from behind the desk and set off walking towards the back of the store. The fact that he assumed she meant money implied he didn’t realize just how old she was. That was always a good sign, it meant Uly’s hours spent keeping up with modern times were not a complete waste.

“The price isn’t money, human.” She couldn’t help it. Maybe if the man got annoyed enough, he’d reveal who he truly was. She doubted it, though. “The price is secrets.” Uly always hated explaining that. It made her sound like some bent over crone from a terrible eighties horror film eager to steal your life away with the use of your ‘true name’ or other such nonsense.

With that, they reached the back of the store. A rather plain looking oaken door barred their passage which Uly merely… opened. Funnily enough, that’s how doors worked. Of course, there were nearly two dozen assorted runes warding off a variety of creatures and deities that she’d disabled through a tap on the charm in her pocket… but that was beside the point.

Inside, the room looked almost identical to the bookstore’s main area however it was only a single floor. The space was occupied by nearly a dozen bookshelves and pedestals filled with far more unique writings that Uly had collected over the past two millennia. At one point in her life she was sure she’d memorized every single text here… now though, she was still in the process of re-reading them all. They ranged from original summoning texts for the first demons all the way through to construction templates for ancient Aztec portals. This collection was beyond Priceless. Had her companion entered the room with ill intent, God or not, he would be facing down the full brunt of centuries worth of security wards. Uly smiled to herself at the thought, remaining by the door as she casually leaned against the wall there.

“Go on then.” She made a shooing motion with her hands. A rare reference to her age being her motherly mannerisms. “Time’s burning.”

Ironic.

His hope of her merely being a nosy human was steadily dwindling. Trading in secrets was a distinct mark of someone who had been alive for a very long time. Bother. Other immortals or long-lived individuals always made things more complicated. They either thought the two of them ought to be friends, since they both kept on living, or everything came to be about who was more powerful, who knew more things. Jack was not interested in such petty contests. He had no desire to gain more power, to rule over anyone, to do anything other than pass the rest of his seemingly endless life in peace, preferably by a beach. He had been a very good job of that so far. 

He was going to have to think of a good secret. Given what she seemed partial to, he thought a spell would do. Only it would have to be a valuable one, distinct to him. He could do that. It had been a long time since he’d bothered with that sort of magic, but he still had it around. Though that was likely to make her more smug than ever. 

Stepping into the room after her, Jack didn’t immediately look at the books. He was momentarily distracted by the presence of spells and charms, both around the door and throughout the area. It was good work, clear that someone had taken their time to do it right and avoid leaving any holes by which someone might be able to slip through. Of course, it took a trained eye and affinity for magic to even be aware of their presence, but Jack had both of those. He could appreciate good work nearly as much as he could appreciate the books, which he now turned his attention to. Many of them were nothing he was in need of; he was not so ambitious as the young people who sought these things out were, anymore. 

As expected, there was very little of Celtic magic. That had mostly been wiped out through time and other invasive religions. Finally, one caught his eye. To Catch a Mermaid. It was things like this that made him think he might be better off raising an island out of the sea, casting a protective spell over it, and living far away from humans and their violent tendencies. He snagged the book, if just to be sure that nobody else could. “Any other recommendations?”

[jackconnolley]

Uly was old. With age came an appreciation for things that didn’t often occur to other people such as being able to exist without normal people telling stories about you. The heroes and villains of this city could prance about all they wanted, getting stories told about them. Live as long as she did, and it all became easier if you were just another anonymous face. Maintaining that anonymity in the era of smartphones and portable cameras was, alas, a daunting task. She wasn’t about to ruin that for someone who was obviously intending to keep themselves a secret. That said, if he continued to act as he did, Uly doubted it would be a secret for very long.

“We are of an understanding.” She said with a friendly nod, taking his note of money that she’d almost forgotten about on the counter. She knew that they had reached an understanding beyond that spoken in his words… but an understanding none the less.

“If you are interested in more specialized texts, you are welcome to peruse my personal collection. They might be a touch out of your price range, though.”  She said idly before absently standing from her chair to stretch her arms skyward. She winced inwardly at the jangling of bracelets that weren’t technically visible. Stupid. It always amused her that people assumed with age came a lack of mistakes… quite the contrary, Uly made plenty. She just didn’t make the same mistakes.

Jack nodded. This was usually all it took, with anyone intelligent enough to pick up on the fact that he was not what he pretended to be. In a city like this, people had gotten used to the presence of strange beings, and the majority of them were too wrapped up in their own lives to pay any attention to the people around them. If they did manage to pay attention, they were either too awed to say anything, or wizened enough through time to have no care to out someone. Which meant that he was not likely to merely outlive this woman, as was his strategy with so many other people who bothered him. 

He reached for his flask once more. He was going to need it if he wanted to keep this up, as it didn’t seem there was much point in merely ignoring it. Besides that, the idea of a private collection did pique his interest. “I make it a point not to worry about prices.” He hadn’t spent his whole life as a god, after all. Both trading and privateering were lucrative careers, and he had enough put away apart from his bar to live off of for several more lifetimes. 

Eyes followed her arms, an eyebrow raising at the sound that followed her movement and the slightest of smirks tugging at his mouth. His gaze flicked back to her face. “Though I might wonder how you found such specialized texts.” 

[jackconnolley]

In Uly’s two thousand, one hundred and thirty-one years there was one simple thing she had absolutely mastered. One skill she could put to use better than any other being in the entire universe.

The ‘you’re really going to bullshit me?’ eyebrow raise of disappointment.

Uly put that skill to good use before the man had even finished talking.

“You human very well then, friend. I’m sorry to have doubted you.” She said with a completely straight face, though inside she was snorting in amusement. There was nothing she got more enjoyment out of then seeing a God who didn’t know how to pretend to be human. She had once seen a Celtic God of War wander into a restaurant wearing a full suit and tie… but a chainmail skirt from the waist down. Suffice it to say the diners got far more than they bargained for when the God had sat down and not bothered to cross his legs. Damned naturalist Celtics. Uly suspected by the man’s subtle irish lilt that he wasn’t far off that heritage. The thought made some of that internal laughter seep into the faintest smirk at the corner of her lips.

“As long as your shirt stays on and the water stays outside, you’ll have no problems from me with your… human business.” Uly couldn’t help it. Gods drew out the smart-ass in her.

Probably why so many of them hate me.

That, and they didn’t like meeting people older than they were.

Jack knew as well as anyone how he came across. Old, out of touch and unaware. Which meant that he could pass over the look she was giving him, telling him she didn’t believe a word out of his mouth, and rest assured that he would be taken as an oblivious old man. She could go on being disappointed by him, he was not here to impress anyone. He might have been a god, and he might still have some of those attributes, but the age of the gods was over. One of these days, people were going to accept that. 

“I’ve no intention of removing my shirt, I assure you. And the beach is a good distance away, if that’s what you’re worried about. I suppose I could get a pail, but that would take far too long to carry all this way.” So she didn’t believe him. He was alright with that, so long as she didn’t go spreading it, or attempting to learn about him, convince him to help her with something. “I’m glad we’re of an understanding, then.” He was getting the feeling that this particular bookstore was going out of his rotation for another century. By then, she would either be dead or have moved on. Anything other than human usually stayed on the move, after all, to keep people from catching onto what they were. 

[jackconnolley]

Ulysses gave her usual cursory examination of the man - as she did anyone who came into her bookstore - before turning her attention to his books. She gave the impression of looking them over as if to check their price, but in reality her mind was churning away like a well-oiled machine… albeit one missing a few cogs. She knew the man from somewhere. Of course, she’d seen him the few times he’d been through the bookstore… but every single time he came in, Uly got a striking sense that she remembered him from somewhere. The fact that she couldn’t remember only served to infuriate her. Uly hated not knowing. It didn’t tend to matter what it was that she didn’t know.

“Fourty one and fifty cents.” She said almost unconsciously, absently setting the books back on the counter until she got to the text regarding sea-nymphs. Something clicked. He’s one of the ocean gods. Such a realization might have stirred a shiver in the average person, but for Uly - who had met many and had passing relations with a few - the Gods no longer held the awe factor they once did. Sure, most could cave her head in with a wave of the hand… but they were only as strong as their believers allowed them to be. Uly herself had a soft spot for the Etruscan goddess of knowledge, Menrva. Not very well known and thus not particularly powerful… she was one of the few Gods Uly could hold a conversation with and actually enjoy their company.

Now it’s just a matter of narrowing it down. Uly made a mental note to follow up later, clearing time in her schedule for research. It was a miracle she was as productive as she was, given how easily she could be caught on the winds of a passing interest. Regardless, the realization of what he was meant she didn’t get quite as annoyed at his last comment as she usually would have. From a God, such remarks were expected. Either way, she wasn’t about to remind him that she rotated her collections faster than anyone else in the city and had a more diverse range of magical novels than any other bookstore this side of the equator… she simply shrugged and scanned his books through.

The bookstore was a work of art, if Uly did say so herself. The corridors were dangerously warded at each and every turn, meaning the interior was far larger than it had any right to be when viewed from the exterior. Uly found that any person who complained about her limited stock had likely not even perused half of the shelves she had on offer.

“’Lilac’s Guide to the Aquatically Magical’ might prove more helpful to an ocean deity like yourself.” She gestured with a lazy finger at his book, “Quite a few errors in that one. He thought Nymphs had one less finger than humans, for example. Idiot.”

Jack was used to being studied; he had learned to brush off the feeling of it as a common factor. People were always watching him, something he attributed to being unable to fully rid himself of the godlike aura that followed him. Some could sense what it was, others just looked at him and saw there was something off, and thus watched. Very few people ever said anything about it, and he preferred it that way. The last thing he wanted was for tales of Manannan Mac Lir to follow him here. It was not that he did not like his other persona, it was him after all. It was all the attention that came with it, when all he wanted was to go on about his quiet life, settled into the comfortable rut he had carved out for himself. 

He began paging through his wallet, picking out a larger bill and setting it on the counter silently. No need to engage in conversation if it wasn’t absolutely necessary, as far as he was concerned. Now that he thought about it, he did recognize the woman. He’d seen her here and there around the bookstore before, though the stretched time of his mind couldn’t say if it was for an average amount of time for a human or not. Ah well, it was none of his business what someone was. As long as a person didn’t pry into his life, he would return the favor. 

It was as if she had heard his thoughts. He didn’t think she had, given the sign near the door and the fact that the few empaths he knew were incapable of getting a read off of him. As it was, his head snapped up from his focus on putting up his wallet once more. He pursed his lips, slipped the walled back into place, then reached for the opposite pocket that held his flask. He unscrewed the top, took a quick drink, then replaced it. This encounter had just become much more irksome. 

“I’m sorry, I believe you may have me confused with someone else. I’m afraid I’m nothing but a human, I’m not sure about all this deity business.” He waved a hand to accent just how little he cared for the term. “Perhaps they do.” He offered next, knowing full well that they didn’t. If Jack had nothing else going for him, he was very practiced in a bald-faced lie, and he did not care how obvious it may be that he was lying. So long as it was acknowledged that he would not be admitting to anything. “Unless you have personal experience with these creatures. Here I thought they were mere stories.” 

[jackconnolley]

The bookstore was a maze to the uninitiated. A winding collection of corridors and towering shelves that gave the constant impression that they were teetering on the brink of collapse. They never would, of course. Nearly a dozen assorted runes prevented theft, ill-intent and - thankfully - collapsing bookshelves. 

The three-story building wedged discreetly between a coffee house and a four-story law firm in central Ceres Centropolis would seem cluttered and disorganized to any not familiar with the intricate and very carefully planned layout. In truth, it was arranged to keep the mundane inquiries on the ground floor, while those here with more… supernatural tastes would find themselves drawn skyward. This was no ordinary bookstore. It was a safe haven for any seeking knowledge and information, no matter how eclectic or forgotten. Fighting would not be tolerated within the store, nor would any form of discrimination. “No mind-reading. Ever.” The worn out neon yellow sign near the counter heralded the one exception to the discrimination rule.

The day had been a quiet one, not that Uly was drawn to counting pennies come tax time. As the sun began to fall, Uly was tempted to close up briefly in favor of retrieving a coffee but decided against it. Instead, she remained sat at the front desk by the door, head bent over a small pearl-like stone inscribed with a patchwork of runes. It was nowhere near done, but she was making progress on the wish stone. They were in high demand with her clients and it would sell for a fortune.

A brief warmth from the bracelet on her wrist - one of five - drew Uly’s attention away from her work, signaling the presence of someone nearby. Listening for a moment, she heard the familiar tapping of feet on the second floor heading towards the spiral stairs. With a yawn, Uly tucked away her stone and twisted the ring on her index finger twice to shift her eyes back to a natural almond brown. The icey blue hue that came with her working on charms often made people uncomfortable.

As the figure approached, Uly leaned forward on the counter, an eyebrow lifting. “Need something?”

Jack always liked books. The creation of story-telling in the form of something which could be done alone was one of his more preferred modern conventions. Modern being a loose term, of course. Books could be silenced at any moment, they did not argue with him. Bookstores, he liked almost as well. They tended to be quiet places, and what people did frequent them were rarely the kind to strike up conversation, and he liked that too. There were very few people within Ceres Centropolis that Jack had any interest in talking to, and any one of those could be found at The Crusty Lemon on any given night. 

Outside of his bar, Jack didn’t care to strike anything up. Meaning that the Woodland Bookstore was one of the few places to earn a place in his rotation outside of his bar, the beach and his home. He didn’t appear in it often, but often enough that he had learned the layout and could wander through the shelves searching for books that he didn’t recognize, or ones from years past. By the time his slow search drew to an end, he held about four books under one arm, only one of them of supernatural quality (a book detailing information on kelpies and sea nymphs, and he felt it necessary to read through it and decide how accurate the information was). 

He laid the books on the familiar counter, already searching coat pockets for his wallet. He found his flask, returning that to it’s place, then in the opposite side, his wallet. “Just these books. Not as high of a turnover on the books as I was hoping.” 

[jackconnolley]

“You’d be surprised,” Elvira commented as she remembered a few summers ago.  If ever given the chance, the boys on the Ranger squad with her could be some of the most irritating people tin the world, after all.  Though she replied, Elvira’s eyes remained focused on the situation that was happening aways from them.  The Blue Ranger hardly let fixation cover her grounds, but she could not avoid looking.  “Yeah, this is true.  It’s Ceres,” she agreed with the man, “But that just seems out of place and in broad daylight.”  Were people starting to become bolder?  The blunette couldn’t grasp it.  She looked back to the guy, “I’m probably getting all worked out over nothing …I hope.”

“It takes a good deal to surprise me.” Jack said dryly. He’d seen a few too many things in the world for a shift in expected character to really catch him by surprise. She was rather fixed on the presence at the end of the block, and he was beginning to think he could merely walk away from her without her so much as noticing. “They are just standing there, at the moment.” He felt the need to point out. They looked a little suspicious, sure, but as of yet they were not doing anything outright wrong or shady. And Jack was ever hesitant to judge based upon appearances. “There are worse things.”