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    @galethei​​ SENT :  🤝+ 22     TOUCH PROMPT  ⇢  NO LONGER ACCEPTING !!

                      HOW MANY BATTLES had he walked away from? how many world shattering events had weighed down and rolled right off his shoulders? for such an easily swayed man jack had been surprisingly resilient through his many trials ----------and yet there he was, returned from APOCRYPHA, and shaken. 

                    enslavement, forbidden knowledge, waging a war against DRAGONS, and damned by the chains of destiny. the further he delved into the legend of miraak the more jack saw links between his story and the first dragonborn’s. perhaps it was that familiarity which spurned on his BLEEDING heart, a desire to SAVE the once dragon priest from his wretched fate. but it wasn’t so. in the end it was his blade that ended miraak’s eternal life, and he felt loathsome for it. 

                   the material plane and fresh air of the real world hardly registered to him, only galethei’s touch STARTLED him back into the present. the lingering feeling of hermaeus mora’s suffocating black tendrils still slithering over his skin was slowly pushed back, like a dull ache, from gale’s presence; her expression seemed . . . relieved to have him back. RELIEF, she felt relief for him to be free of that place, and for the first time the weight of his fate welled in his eyes and brought him to his knees. 

    @undeth​ SENT :  🤝+ 35 idk what he’s gaining but it really do be                      like that     TOUCH PROMPT  ⇢  NO LONGER ACCEPTING !!

                   HOW GIO’S HANDS remained cool to the touch despite fresh flames burning out around him and the sweat glistening over jack’s body, mixing with blood and dirt coating his skin, he wouldn’t ask. for as curious as he was he didn’t want to be too knowledgeable in the necromantic arts that giovanni seemed so adept in. at first it was instinctual to lean into the other’s grasp, so cool and gentle, a calming balm after such an intense battle. 

              ------------ and for as GULLIBLE as he had proven he could be, the hands of his companion wandering jack’s figure and drawing him close were TOO welcome. the feeling was that of a snake slithering against his body, and for a moment jack humored him, drew him closer, until they shared a breath. with very little keeping him from kissing gio other than his own willpower, jack allowed the tension to linger, and some kind of false sense of VICTORY to settle into those vacant, cold eyes. 

i.   DRACULA.   cold to the touch. flickering candles. cold breath upon your neck. billowing white gowns. midnight strolls. pearl trimmed bands. indulging in your deepest desires. the fall from grace. the fear of outsiders. bloodstained sheets. dark imaginations. something lurking in the shadows. the urge to run away. glowing eyes in the darkness. the scent of garlic. preying on the weak. the power to both bring and take life.

ii.    THE   PICTURE   OF   DORIAN  GRAY.   old bookshelves. kisses on the hand. a devotion to the finer things in life. prizing youth and beauty above all. paying the ultimate price. the pursuit of pleasure. blood red sins painted over in white snow. a drug-induced stupor. breaking the heart of the one you love. losing what’s left of your humanity.

iii.   FRANKENSTEIN.   frantic sketches. the stench of something rotten. unorthodox beliefs. a scream from the woods. candles burning out. dangerous knowledge. contemplating existence. the crunch of leaves. the chill of winter in your bones. dark ambitions. prometheus reborn. the contrast between life and death.

iv.   THE   COUNT   OF   MONTE   CRISTO.   false accusations. taking justice into your own hands. divine justice. elaborate schemes. playing upon others’ weaknesses. the solitude of the ocean. an ever-changing identity. dissatisfaction in your life. an alienation from humanity. escaping from prison.

                    JACK KNEW OF the werewolf curse on the companions, and he understood, to an extent, what it meant to them. words could only portray to him so much the cost of devouring blood and hearts for the primal power it would apparently grant them, and honestly he had only his imagination to lend towards the transformation itself. at least until a particularly violent run-in while in caal's company. his imagination didn't QUITE do it justice. though the sight and sounds of it were ------- in a word ------ terrifying, jack felt all the more concerned when he finished off the last assailant on his end and turned to find caal nowhere in sight.

                  FAELMON MADE JACK feel small in almost every way, the least of which being the many inches he stood over him. he was noble in house and manner and deed, shown in his armor and the way he walked and spoke and fought. while it was true that jack was a thane as well, he never felt the part; his thaneship was a complete accident. but faelmon, from jack's eyes, epitomized it. the altmer vampire was truly a dashing and heroic knight right from the bedtime stories he and ernsynth's other captive apprentices would tell at night to ease themselves into a hopeful sleep.

                     THEY WEREN'T THE first would-be assassins to come after jack, and if the ever present sinking feeling in his gut was any indicator they wouldn't be the last. honestly exhaustion had run him so ragged he likely would have been pathetically slain in some dirty river and left for the bears ------ luckily serana was faster than their blades and their spells. the last image he could cling to with clarity was staring up at a man before pearly white fangs glinted in the moonlight, and hot blood splashed over his face. after that he was in and out, only waking in a bedroll near a crackling fire.