This specific lancaster -NX611 'JUST JANE'- was first built in April of 1945, and never saw combat, furthermore it was put into storage untill the year 1952, where it would then move on to join the French navy untill 1964. From 1964 to 1984 NX611 was flown by the Historical Aircraft Preservation Society, in 1984 NX611 was bought by brothers Fred and Harold Panton, as a memorial to their other brother who was killed in action during a bombing raid over Nurenberg in 1944, where it was then brought to RAF East Kirkby - a former RAF base, now air museum- where you can see it along with a De Havilland Mosquito and British B-25 Mitchell, NX611 is able to taxi along with the mosquito, Furthermore RAF East Kirkby -Lincolnshire Aviation Heritage Centre- is the only place you can ride in an AVRO lancaster
I was tagged by @akindofmagictoo and given the words garden, grit, grate, and grand. Thank you!
From... Just Jane? Sure!
GARDEN
Jane reached for it. The brown vines—which, upon closer inspection, were more like the gnarled canes of a bramble bush—tightened around the Chalice, extending up and over it like a protective cocoon.
“That’s a problem,” she stated, retreating from the sharp thorns before she got poked.
Kell frowned at the pedestal. “Wizard Naetris didn’t mention this.”
“I doubt she knew about it, or else she would have sent a gardener instead of a thief,” she replied.
“Or she would have armed the thief with pruning shears.”
GRIT DUST
Jane stretched out on the soft mattress, her back muscles easing into a resting position. They’d camped along the road the night before. “This is so much better than sleeping on the ground.”
“Weren’t you recently homeless and sleeping on the streets of Summerlight?” Pavia asked. She was in front of the mirror taking a small mountain of pins out of her hair.
“Just because I’m used to sleeping on the ground doesn’t mean I find it enjoyable,” she replied.
Pavia snorted. “Fair enough. Now go wash up before you fall asleep covered in dust.”
GRATE
“We should go back for Pavia,” Jane said, turning back to look through the grates of the portcullis.
“Pavia can take care of herself,” Nic replied.
“What about Percy?”
“She can take care of him, too,” he said, smiling wryly.
GRAND DIGNIFIED
Lord Annesley returned to his seat, and a woman in a yellow dress stood. The ceremony repeated four more times—Lady Ashenhurst, Lord Blackburn, Lady Duncombe, and Lady Feversham—before it was Percy’s turn. He repeated the oath of fealty, drank the wine, and offered his gift.
Duchess Anwen’s face lit up when he revealed his gift. He handed it to her and she immediately popped it into her mouth, a single moment of bright joy in the dignified evening.
Jane leaned over to Nic again. “What was Percy’s offering?”
“A cherry. They’re her favourite.”
“What’s she going to do with the pit?”
Percy offered his goblet, and Duchess Anwen gently placed the pit in it. She was almost laughing for the first time since she’d entered the throne room. Percy passed the goblet back to the priest with an apologetic smile, and returned to his seat.
Oops, two words had to be changed. I hope I chose acceptable substitutions!
I tag @artdecosupernova-writing, @willtheweaver, @kaatiba, and anyone else who wants to play! Your words are cruel, core, curl, and climb. As always, no pressure!
Thank you to @agirlandherquill for organizing this event!
WIP: Just Jane
Prompt(s): "I'm incapable of forgetting, unfortunately." / "You're home now, with us." / A misty bridge / A fading hearth
Words: 749
Notes: For context, I'd recommend reading Writemas 2024 Day 5.
Jane was barely paying attention as they rode through the night. Percy was leading the way, followed by Pavia, Kell, herself, and Nic bringing up the rear. They’d decided to push on to the next town instead of stopping in Athelney for the night like they’d discussed earlier in the day. Jane didn’t care—she didn’t know much of the duchy outside of Summerlight, and she wasn’t even sure which direction they were travelling.
A light mist filled the air as they approached a stone bridge. It was only when Percy’s horse stepped onto the bridge, and she heard the hoofbeats on the stones, that she realized where they were.
She pulled her horse to a stop. “Wait.”
“What’s wrong?” Nic asked.
“Where are we?”
“Almost to Skelside,” he replied. “The inn is less than ten minutes ahead.”
“No. I can’t—we can’t—no.” Her words were failing her. She couldn’t go back to Skelside. She’d made a promise when she was twelve years old that she’d never return.
“I need more than that, Jane,” Percy said. He’d circled back to join them.
“I made a promise,” she said. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. It was like she was a terrified child again, waiting for the next raised hand or raised voice aimed at her.
“You haven’t been here for years,” Percy said. “There’s no guarantee that the people you want to avoid still live in the area. We’re going directly to the inn, sleeping, and leaving first thing in the morning.”
No one left the ministry. She’d only escaped because she’d fled under the cover of darkness with nothing but the clothes on her back.
“And I’ll kill anyone who tries to mess with you,” Pavia added.
Jane’s smile was strained.
“I’m impressed you can remember a promise you made as a kid,” Nic said.
“I will never forget that night, unfortunately.”
Nic frowned. “Do you need us to kill someone?”
“Just point them out.” Pavia’s tone was arch, but her expression made it clear she wasn’t joking.
Jane nodded. She didn’t need to be afraid; she wasn’t alone anymore. She nodded again, steeling herself, then signalled to Percy that she was good to continue.
They entered Skelside. It felt smaller than she remembered, even though everything else was exactly the same. The same houses and shops, the same faded signs, the same judgemental glares. Jane tucked herself into the shadows of the stables while Percy and Pavia went to secure them lodgings and Nic tended to the horses.
There were the same faces, too. Despite the late hour and the years that had passed, she still recognized many of the people she saw. Every familiar face set her more on edge.
“You okay?” Kell asked. He leaned against the wall next to her.
“Not really,” she replied. She didn’t need to lie to him. “It’s weird. Eerie. I hate it.”
“I don’t have the same violent capabilities as Nic and Pavia, but let me know if there’s anything I can do to make this easier.”
“Can you reverse time so we stop in Athelney?”
He smiled. “I’ll work on it.”
A middle aged man approached them from the other side of the street, striding with purpose. He had an angry, jagged scar running down one side of his face. “Jane of Radiant Ephion’s Mercy.”
Bile rose in her throat.
“After twelve long years, you’ve finally returned home to us,” the man said. He grabbed her forearm, his fingers digging into her flesh and bringing back every awful second of her last night in the town. “You must pay penance for your actions.”
“Let go of her,” Kell ordered. He stepped between them, hiding the man’s face from her view. It didn’t make the panic recede or the air reach her lungs.
She hefted the fire poker and swung it at his head—
“This girl is my property. I can do with her as I please.”
It collided with his skull with a sickening thump and he collapsed to the floor—
“I will kill you where you stand if you don’t let her go right now,” Kell threatened.
Blood pooled on the floor and splattered her dress and the fire in the hearth was fading and the river was cold and—
“Kell.” She barely managed his name before the world narrowed to pinpricks and her knees gave out. She didn’t hit the ground; Kell caught her and lowered her softly into the dirt, holding her tightly until she lost consciousness.
Thank you to @agirlandherquill for doing this again! I'm going to keep posting these as I finish them, so I apologize that you'll continue getting notifications most likely into January.
WIP: Just Jane
Prompt(s): "I'm not going to be one of your memories." / "You're getting ahead of yourself a bit, aren't you?"
Words: 395
Notes: A Just Jane snippet with no Jane? Oops.
Pavia reclined on the couch in the parlour in Greystone Residence. Darkness had set in hours ago; ever since they’d returned from Nightwell Keep, she’d had trouble falling asleep. Her eyes were on the dying fire but her mind was somewhere far away, reliving the screaming Shades and Lumens that haunted her as soon as she closed her eyes.
“Pavs?” Nic stood in the doorway, squinting blearily. “Why are you still up?”
“I could ask you the same,” she replied.
He sighed but sat on the floor in front of her with his back to her. “You haven’t slept properly since Nightwell Keep.”
Her throat tightened. Sometimes she was amazed by what he was able to pick up on. By how well he knew her. “I thought I was hiding it well.”
“Jane asked me if you were okay.”
“She’s weirdly perceptive so I don’t think that counts against me.”
Nic snorted and they settled into a comfortable silence. Pavia reached out and buried her fingers in his hair, dragging her nails in a slow pattern. It was something they’d done since the military camps where they’d met and had become a strange comfort.
“Can you promise me something?” Her voice was weak, but she was able to get the words out in the dim light with his back to her. There was no judgement. “Remember me when I die? I’m afraid of being forgotten.”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself a bit, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Nic.”
“You’re not going to die. I won’t allow it.”
“Nic. I’m serious.”
He was quiet for long enough that she thought he wasn’t going to say anything further. “If you somehow die before me, Pavia Travers, you won’t be one of my memories. You will be all of them. Everything I’ve ever done that’s worth remembering, I’ve done with you by my side.”
She swallowed. He made it sound like a vow that confirmed everything they’d danced around saying. Everything they were running out of time to say.
She leaned forward and pressed her lips to the top of his head. “Thank you.”
“You should try to rest,” he said. “I’ll stay here until you fall asleep.”
She couldn’t thank him through the lump in her throat so she squeezed his shoulder, then closed her eyes. For the first time in weeks, she slipped into a dreamless sleep.
Listen. I am aware it is December 20. I have had a very busy month and you are going to have to deal with these being late. Thank you to @agirlandherquill for doing this again!
WIP: Just Jane
Prompt(s): “I chose to be here. No-one made me except myself.”
Words: 411
Notes: This is very close to the end of the story. I had another part that would've included three more prompts, but it also would've given away the entire ending. So you get this small scene instead.
“You don’t have to stay,” Duchess Anwen said. Her plate armour fit her perfectly. A few short months ago it would’ve made her look like a child playing dress up, like her coronation dress had, but now she had the weary steadiness to carry its weight. “I don’t know if it was Kell or Percy who told you to remain close to me, but I won’t tell anyone if you decide to find somewhere safer.”
“I chose to be here. No one made me except myself,” Jane replied.
The leather armour they’d found for her felt weird—it wasn’t heavy or stiff, it was just strange. She had a sword at her hip that she barely knew how to use and at least six knives strapped to her body. She was a thief, not a fighter, but the others had been so determined to arm her that she hadn’t had the heart to turn them down. Now that they were out of sight—Percy and Nic with the knights and soldiers lined up in front of the city walls, Pavia hidden somewhere along the top of the wall to protect them with her magic—Jane found the weight of the blades oddly comforting.
“I’m sorry it’s come to this,” she said.
“It’s not your fault,” Duchess Anwen replied. “You did your best.”
Still, it didn’t feel like it had been enough. They had delayed the invasion but not stopped it. Now they were exactly where they had tried so desperately to avoid being: hemmed into the city, unable to escape, with only a small army to defend the walls as the Vaedian army bore down on them. They had already crested the horizon. It was a matter of hours before they’d be engaged in open battle.
“Do you think my ancestors will forgive me when I meet them in Zailahr?” Duchess Anwen asked.
“What could there be to forgive?”
“This Duchy has remained independent for hundreds of years and is going to fall while under my rule.” She chewed her bottom lip. “My mother will be so disappointed.”
“Then she shouldn’t have gone and died fighting the Vaedian Empire's war. I know they were our allies but we all knew this would happen eventually.”
“Do you think that would’ve changed anything?”
Jane hesitated. “Probably not.”
Duchess Anwen smiled faintly. “Thank you for lying.”
Her heart ached. They’d been so close. And now it was too late; all of their efforts had been for nothing.
Thoroughly optional worldbuildy ask: are there any very specific inspirations for parts of your world that may be anywhere on the spectrum of significance?
sleepy!! i had to mull this one over for a while, but i finally have an answer for you!
the underground sections of just jane (yes, plural, they get stuck underground multiple times) were very heavily inspired by the dungeons, specifically the nord tombs, in skyrim. i was playing the game a lot while coming up with the plot, and the endless twisting dirt corridors made their way into the wip.
the final boss fight of the thieves' guild quest line may also be significant inspiration for a certain part of the story, but you'll have to wait to find out 👀
