Shards and Spears (Jackson LaCroix)

[Dusk]

She sighed a little, and her shoulders relaxed just a bit as she slid around the couch and took her seat again. "I thought you weren't interested in the mizas," she said, but there was something in her voice too exhausted to really lend an edge to the words. More as if she were so used to being sharp and scathing that she didn't know how to be any other way. "Well. The details aren't much more than that. It's taken me three years to find this girl, and all I know is that she's the key to accessing what I need. What I need," she said, hesitating, though more as if she'd been waiting to say these words aloud, had said them before and been disappointed. "What I need is an arrow. My sources say it can be found inside one of the ruins in the Wildlands. And that you will know it when you see it." She leaned forward and opened a long wooden box that had lain on the table between them, and drew out a rolled up parchment. "I have a map here of how to get there. As I said, you will escort the girl there, protect her, and bring the arrow back to me. Whether she returns here with you or not is up to you," she said tersely. The box was closed again, and she smoothed the silk of her skirt over her thighs. "You will be provided with a packhorse and supplies to last you until the end of the season if you're smart about it. Return the arrow to me, and you'll be paid two hundred gold mizas." Not an insubstantial amount - it was more than most people made for half a season's work.

[Jackson LaCroix]

Listening as politely as a sphinx, the wandering green eyes of Jackson coiled around her temperament like lily-pads laid against a black lagoon, with irises reflected calmly beneath the sparkling waves. Green then black to the echo of white crested breakers crashing upon a mysterious cool shore.

His gaze said nothing while studying the map.

His brazen mouth opened only once, but was sharpened to cut skin without the use of mild contact.

"Then let's move.."

No mention of the reward or further weighing of the woman's character. No give. No take. As though the instrument of Dynan's aspirations would find the opening notes to pluck upon tuning for his own outcome. Yet this music, would she be beautiful or corrosive? Macabre, fair or shocking.. - Breathtaking while drawn by violin bow over it's taunt strings for the very first time.

LaCroix stepped towards the door, allowing Dynan enough space to pass. His body stood ready to undertake the journey without hesitation.

[Dusk]

Dynan nodded and rose, the map rolled beneath her hands. She stepped close enough to hand it to him, but seemed too cautious to come any closer. She walked past him, but instead of heading down the hallway and out of the suites she instead crossed the room to another door. She pulled it open and motioned Jackson to follow her. In the next room, a young girl sat waiting for them. She was fidgeting a little, crouched on the edge of a bed with one hand tapping a chaotic rhythm on her knee while the other was raised to her face, thumbnail stuck between her lips as she chewed on it. When Dynan opened the door, she jumped and bounced to her feet, bright blue eyes locking onto Jackson's face. Acres of blonde curls poured out from beneath a kerchief she'd tied over them, and a thin scar ran from beneath the kerchief and down over her eye, all the way down to her jawline. "Is this the guy?" she asked, jutting her chin towards Jackson. "This is Cross," Dynan replied, glancing from one to the other. "Cross, this is Tiaeste. She will be leading you through the ruins." The girl snorted at that, eying him warily, and then just turned to grab up a duffel bag and throw it at Jackson. "I'm not your servant," she said lowly, blue eyes piercing his as if determined to make sure he understood that. "Remember that and we'll do just fine. You ready to go?"

[Jackson LaCroix]

He smelled the same thing many years ago. The call of wooded glades cleansed by the fragrance of salt, sand and the sea. Layered between earth, the sky and moisture.. As if humans could have scents as obstinate and reckless as a collision of elements.
The ink on his skin tingled from perpetual memory, which made the girl's words plunge like a spear in flesh too thick to break, lodging it's self on the outside of his emotions far above the organs. His eyes steadied like a wet stone, cracked along the jaw perhaps in amusement.

"Serve yourself."

Overlooking the bag, he focused on Dynan, remembering the last words from her mouth and raised half a brow.

"Now the other Animal.." He meant the horse, but abided till the elder female acted, watching her acceptance or contention from the edge of his gaze with arms folded across the width of his chest. Anticipating the sweeping proximity of her frame and another object swung at his direction the man blinked.. ignoring the sense of recognition lining the cunning from the inside of his mouth.

[Dusk]

Tiaeste never once looked at Dynan, though Cross seemed to be turning to her for guidance. Even as he quipped at her, she picked up another duffel and threw it over her shoulder. "I plan on it," she said dryly, something deeply sarcastic in her voice. Without any further instruction or explanation, she shoved past both of them and headed for the front door. Dynan just ignored them both as if they'd already left. Tiaseste just assumed he'd follow her, and made her way out into the castle hallways and began the long walk out to the stables. She wove her way through the crowd, but though she didn't look over her shoulder once she made sure to go slowly enough for him to trail her. When they made it to the massive Windmount Stables, she stopped and gave her name and a few coins to a stablehand. And then there was nothing to do but wait for him to bring back the horse - which left a few minutes if Cross wanted to talk.

[Jackson LaCroix]

The taste of the lodgings was discreetly replaced with the open bowels of Dynan's fair city. The disdain of Cross's would be employer was like another man's fond farewell, something so familiar it had become reassuring. Of the child, he had no hardened opinion.. yet.

They waited as Jackson calmly flipped a golden apple into the air, resting his back against a beam of thick wood.

"Tiaseste. How are you able to take this arrow.."

Of the many intriguing questions he had about the girl's situation, that one came first. Blond strands of hair fell over the man's face which seemed to melt and mend anew into emotions of polished restraint. The apple toss was more carefree then previous, floating on the current in a backspin before falling to his palm. Her self-reliance flaunted like a burning match so why not see how genuine the characteristic was before being blown out. That the iron order of knights treated his mercury like presence as acceptable was intriguing in simplicity.. so easy in it's ache that acting civil hardly held any pleasure at all.

[Dusk]

The girl's eyes cut over to him a moment, and then back down to her boots. "Petched if I know," she muttered, sounding a little frustrated by the whole thing. "You're the one who's supposed to be taking the arrow or whatever anyway. My job's just to open the door," she sneered, kicking up a puff of hay and dust.

[Jackson LaCroix]

Swiftly gripping the apple against his palm Jackson paused, leaving the hall absent of the rhythmic delay of it's toss. The dust glittered absently above as ray beams beat down with the vague affirmation of warmth.

"And you now risk your life willingly.. Why not leave on a caravan bound for Zeltiva." His features nearly peaked into amusement but turned with the twist of the jaw instead. "What makes you so special to Dynan and why is it only you that can unlock this door."

LaCroix glanced at the girl neutrally, looking for physical mannerism or clothing that would reveal her history, character and worth. His sentences echoed softly like a bullwhip, lashing it's braided leather against the arid density of the surrounding walls, but not aligned to lacerate. The fruit spun softly through rotating fingers as if indicating the cyclical nature to the man's experiences, while he scratched his right tricep leisurely.

[Dusk]

Tiaeste's shoulders stiffened at his tone, but her eyes stayed glued on the ground in front of them. "Willingly is an ambiguous sort of word," she muttered, scuffing the heel of her boot against the ground. Her mouth hardened into a thin line, and she glanced up only far enough to catch sight of his elbow before turning her eyes down again, the scar on her face puckering as she frowned. "Dynan needs this arrow for whatever reason, and she found out I can get it. Something about my bloodline or my ancestors or something, I don't know. I'm a third generation slave out of the Ravok pits, can't imagine what good my blood is," she said matter-of-factly, eyes still glued to the floor. "Whatever the reason, she got me out of there and set me free. All I gotta do is help you get this arrow, and the world's mine after that, wherever I want to go. I swore an oath," she said, almost defensively, and her eyes actually flickered up to meet his for an instant - something stubborn and fierce sparkling in the blue depths that made it clear that she must not have been very suited to slavery. "Never had much of a life, so it ain't like I'm risking much. And at least this time I can gain something."

[Jackson LaCroix]

With a lean quarter turn of the left end of his mouth, Jackson visibly acknowledged the girl’s experiences. He glimpsed over the back of her palms for the branding of a half sun to verify those words. There were many things a person who sought to empathize with such a story could say let alone one who shared it’s catharsis. Jax didn’t hide his own mark but kept his words simple.

“Lets go kid.The wildlands are waiting to eat you and I’d hate to disappoint.”

He threw the gold apple towards Tiaeste and stepped away.

“Might win some loyalty with that.”

He strode to the other end of the stable, unrolling the map to view what territory and terrain they would be navigating, giving the girl and horse a wide berth till they were ready to begin their journey.

The fact that both humans were moving past the same obstacle did not mean they would ally in the molding of the present one. In fact it meant quite the opposite, as survival to the point of total self-interest was mutually understood between them without the naive surprise of a single extended hand.. yet she was only a girl. A girl who’s clay had not yet dried despite the scarring. A conflict of emotions should burrow up inside of the man if he had the humanity of a pulse, but she was only a tool to be spent and left.

His vision deadened slowly from the inside, as the contraction of his pupils dried them inward like cold husks. Watching the kid react to the world around herself, Jackson kept an emotional distance further then the physical extension. The singularity of his existence had nearly always been as pure as the edge of a sharpened sword blade, with no space for more unless it walked in his wake. Steel had no tremor less it was pliant.. The scent of hay and musky sweat littered the room as LaCroix twitched his nose trying not to sneeze.