"That! That was beautifully stated. How long have you been running that line through your head to say? How long have you been perfecting it? You don't fucking love anyone."
The conversation writhed through Jackary’s mind while he stood in his private bathroom, grooming himself at the sink by finally washing the Rogue’s ashes from his hands. The Mage was exhausted, it had been a rough week, the past two nights even harder on him and his sanity than anything else.
"Did you practice it for Gentil when you were all over him and cast him aside so carelessly to chase me?”
Hands slowly caressed over his bare stomach to clean the dirt that even his armour couldn't fully protect him from, the sponge slowly wiped away more ash, more debris from his body. It was almost elegant the way he moved, so slow and languid, as if not a care in the world within his broken mind.
“The night I denied you and you slept with my baby cousin to console yourself and you got her pregnant? Perhaps it was when you put her in danger or when you wanted to choose those fucking beasts of offspring halflings over her life?”
Peridot hues closed when the sponge was dipped into the warm pool of soapy water within the plugged sink, rinsing the item before it was squeezed and brought up to his chest again, caressing along nearly healed bitemarks. He was in such a casual manner to even trace along his own clavicles, cleaning under his necklace and along the tattoo.
“How about when you wanted a second consort. Was Aeli simply not GOOD enough for you? You're a fucking joke."
When hands busied themselves to go further upwards, fingers delicately rubbed along the beautiful silver cuffs, assuring not to damage them for they were meticulously polished every morning to keep them shimmering and brand new. He watched his reflection while doing so, the sparkle along the gemstone-laced metal could have been nearly breathtaking.
"MAYBE it was when you asked MY Dragonsworn to be your consort... Or when you forcefully shoved a part of your soul into my body against my will... Maybe it's when you chased this Rogue here out of the same lust you showed for Gen, Dar and I....”
Once the earcuffs were taken care of, Jackary smiled faintly to himself, proudly wiggling his single mobile ear to watch the shimmer until he was satisfied with every angle. Jackary then fussed with his feather, fixing the small hooks within the item to fluff it out once more as a bird would do, cleaning any damage from it.
“ You don't fucking love her. You would have chosen her a LONG time ago over EVERYTHING ELSE, SANIRAN! YOU NEVER CHOSE HER FIRST UNTIL NOW WHEN YOUR LIFE DEPENDED ON IT! AND TO THINK I WAS THE ONE BLAMED FOR THIS!"
Jackary sighed to himself in a sweet, innocent manner. He seemed so innocent when grooming and while the water was drained, shaving cream and his razor was laid out on a clean towel. Fingertips were elegant, his meticulous morning pattern right on time as it always was.
"I would have killed you myself ages ago if not for her... But let me tell you something, you worthless whelp.... Let me tell you a fact that you refuse to believe and she refuses to understand...”
Applying the cream to his face, he made faces at himself in the mirror until the straight-edge razor was brought up. Old fashioned, but he hardly cared. The slightest of angles with the shiny blade caressed up his skin, the smoothest shave around from the stubble that had formed over night.
“You're not good for her. All you've ever DONE IS HURT HER! AND THEN SHE WAS RAPED?! WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU?! Where the fuck was your honour then?! WHY didn't you fucking DEFEND her or her honour or her name?!”
Each smooth stroke was cleaned in the new water of the sink, wiped clean and with another casual stroke taken, the process repeated. Once close enough to his goatee, Jackary tilted his head upwards, the quick, short strokes enough to assure that the pattern stayed in flawless condition.
“INSTEAD YOU OFF AND ROMPED WITH HIM! DON'T FUCKING TELL ME OR HIM OR HER THAT YOU CARE! YOU DON'T! NAME ONE GOOD THING YOU HAVE EVER DONE FOR HER! NAME IT, SANIRAN! NAME IT NOW!"
Pulling back from the mirror, Jackary cupped the water with his hands and rubbed the rest of his face clean, smoothing hands over the shaven areas to assure he got every spot, admiring the gentle skin he had once more. It had been a rough tonight, one that tolled heavily on his sanity. The fact that he had just come home after two days of being gone was enough to atone for his unwanted adventure.
The night had been spent coiled against Raven, eyes locked on the sleeping form of his beloved little cousin. He watched every breath, every reset of her position from his own slouched recline. The Rogue’s warmth was something Jackary’s nearly frozen body needed after he had lost his temper. With Darnath whispering in his ear and Raven’s soft caresses, Jackary had managed to sneak a small nap in.
Relief only came when his own Dragonsworn came to a new understanding, yet he knew from far away how to coax and calm the psychotic beast down from words alone. The howling roars and fits of rampaging laughter silenced by the soothing noises of his own Sworn and the comforting touch of another. Jack must have figured that once a Dragonsworn figure out how to calm a dragon, they knew how to help nearly every breed.
Now that he was home and he had assured the safety of the one he was summoned by, Jack had a new desire to focus on. He had to clean himself up before surprising Gentil, for who wanted a dirtied dragon crawling into bed with them before they awoke? Soon, the mirror was covered out of habit and supplies were put back in their spot, the routine nothing more than a fuzzy muscle memory that drove him to work.
Bare feet took each cool step from the bathroom to slip from his own domestic quarters and down the hall, fingers pressed against the frame to open the door as quietly as he could. Once he peeked in, a smile lingered on his face to see the small frame, but he knew the nightmares could have been closer than they thought.
It only took a few quiet moments for Jackary to slip into Gentil’s bed, the toned arm slowly wrapped around the Priest from behind and soon lips pressed the sweetest kiss to a single ear. The sweet scent of the small male caused his wary head to rest against a pillow while eyes fluttered closed. He wouldn't sleep, merely lay there quietly to hold Gentil close to his own warm body. He would be there for the smaller blond when he awoke, be it from dream or nightmare.
There had been death that night; a cruel, tortured murder. In many ways, Jackary no longer cared, it hadn't phased him in the slightest to watch Raven plunge a dagger into Saniran’s skull. He’d been tainted and twisted into no longer giving a single damn. The only thing it had done for him was further appreciate those around him and for a brief moment in time, it brought out the darkness within the Mage’s heart.
The war was nearly over, it was time to move on.
aelisiablacksun jaded-phantom gentilwebb darnath saniransunbrand
