devour / DESIRE

{chris wood, thirty-two, cis male, he/him} || JACK TORRENCE is a mutant with the ability of ABSORPTION. they’ve been in new york for THIRTEEN YEARS where they spend most of their time as A BOUNCER AT THE CRIMSON VEIL / AN ESSEX ESCAPEE. when i think of them, i think of A JAW CLENCHED SO TIGHT IT MIGHT SNAP, DARK CIRCLES UNDER EYES, AND THE FEELING OF BEING WATCHED. 

it felt appropriate. third halloween free of essex, second able to ‘enjoy’ it… however, the real meaning of the word would require essex falling entirely. but a close second ? the woman who had been walking around, living with undeserved freedom, falling first. “ only thing we still gotta figure out is how t’ get her alone. ” as for a development since the initial and blurry planning phase ? “ sawyer seems willing t’ help out. ”  now, the city was huge, and emmeline would be an idiot to stay, but stranger things had happened ( hell, the escapees had stayed ! yes, it could be argued that some stayed for the sake of justice, but… was that really the case ? and for all of them ? )… thus: “ ya seen her around at all ? ” sweethearts, she’s at the party. 

         “her being alone isn’t the hard part,” he starts, voice still low. the noise around them is more than enough to provide cover for their less than legal operations, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. “the hard part is making sure she’s alone somewhere we can make use of it.” if she’s alone in xavier’s, sawyer might be able to swoop in and act. if she’s alone on the street, in the right place... one of them could handle it. anywhere else? anywhere more trafficked? things start to get tricky.

“Aren’t you a little unlucky to not believe in superstition?” She wasn’t going to throw being as Essex prisoner back in his face. She wasn’t that cruel. But, Mari had no intention of lightening up on him on the topic either. “Alright, fine, but if you do get stabbed, I’ll finish you off this time instead of trying to help.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, pretty boy.” Frankly, Mari has to wonder if it was a bad omen to run into him on yet another Halloween night. Last time it had been a near death experience for both of them. “Full offense, but you’re kind of like a bad luck charm. I feel like you should see yourself out.”

“What—Jack!” Mori turns to face him, a flicker of annoyance gone as quick s it arose. They don’t have to try as hard to be energetic or smiley, they’re drunk enough and enjoying the evening enough for it to come naturally. “It’s the wig, isn’t it?” They look him up and down, shocked he has a sense of humor about his costume: “Hilarious costume choice, zombie boy.”

HALLOWEEN, 1998!

Stevie nods, though it’s more from understanding than agreement. It doesn’t seem like a thing that someone should agree with: the uncertainty, the pessimism disguised as being a realist. Even if both of those things still ring true for herself. 

Instead she takes in a somewhat sudden deep breath, the kind where you think that maybe your brain had forgotten to breathe for a second too long as it was consumed with thoughts. Then, to lighten the mood, she chuckles lightly and glances back towards the blacked out door. “Well, you’re doing a great job at that part, huh?” Turning back to Jack, a muted, somewhat defeated smile on her face, “We’ll give it a few more minutes and I’ll go make sure the cost is clear, alright? If you hear a commotion, take that as your sign to run.”

         just like that, the moment is over. stevie tries to recover some shred of positivity and jack retreats back into himself, the same as he always does. there’s no more need to think about what may or may not be ongoing right now. his focus should be on getting back home without his own personal nightmare—being sought after like this—interfering with that.

     ah yes, the sympathetic strangers. dani isn’t trying nearly as hard not to hate them as she thinks she probably should, but no matter how sincere they seem they always make her skin crawl. maybe jack means something else, though; maybe he means he’s made friends, out here in the real world. maybe he’s found people who look at him and see a person, rather than a threat or a curiosity.

     when he asks if she’s comfortable, offers her options, dani looks down at the floor. “yeah, i… i’m okay for now.” there are things (people) there that she doesn’t like, but even with emmeline essex in the mansion it seems like her best bet. “i got my own room, and there’s a huge library, and i’m takin’ classes and stuff.” remedial classes, mostly; all the science and math and history she’d missed from high school. “i’m uh. ‘m thinkin about lookin for a job, if you got any suggestions.” this too, dani is confident jack will understand for what it is: a step towards independence.

    it’s not the most positive answer, but jack doesn’t seem… hungry. at least not the way she’d seen him at essex. and he’s right, whatever he’s had to do to get by out here has to be better than before - at least now he gets to make those choices for himself. they all do. “you’re tough,” she says softly, looking back up at him across the table. “i always… when we were still…” dani stumbles over the words, pauses, then tries again to say what she really means. “thank you. i’d still be in there if it weren’t for you.”

         i’m okay for now. while not entirely certain of her answer, jack doesn’t need to be. it’s not for him to question her decision, only to make sure that, should she come to agree with his own point of view, that there are other paths to take. “that’s the important thing,” he says, half a sigh. “that you feel... like you could be safe.” true safety is out of the question, even disregarding the essex xavier is protecting, but the potential for it is always there. or at least, that’s what he tries to tell himself, late into the night. that one day it might change. even if, deep in his bones, he know it won’t.

         and then there it comes—the thanks. an uncomfortable topic to approach, and not just because it’s undeserved. self-esteem is hardly jack’s primary issue, but the fact of the matter is that they had just fled the coop. behaved the same way chickens might if a fox got in—with wild abandon and not the slightest idea that they would come back. the other people in essex had not been considered until long, long after the escape had happened. the fact that their interviews had been recent is a testament to that fact.

“Self-improvement. I can admire that.” There’s something in the air with him, a fear that January can’t quite place, but one that’s definitely a survivalist’s bent than actual fear in his veins. The arrogance of her place here, in society, in the world of mutants has made her skin like steel, and if she can afford it? That steel may prove useful as a shield. Or a sword.

She drinks again, the burn on her tongue something that anchors her. A slight scald to keep the nerves. “But you’ve been in fight or flight mode for too long; Essex is gone, and if you don’t rest after this? You’re going to burn yourself out. Take a win. Punch a beloathed businessman.”

         take a win. oh, if only it was that easy. while far from displeased that the essex house has crumbled to dust... the building itself is the least of his worries. it’s the people ( or rather, person ) that escaped from the wreckage that has truly managed to get under his skin. nathaniel essex isn’t dead. because he isn’t dead, he will keep coming. to him, it’s an indisputable fact... but also not one he’s overly willing to discuss. at least, for now.

“Well, thank God for that. At least I got your mind off worst-case scenarios,” he says, laughing a little. He feels red again, the embarrassment of the moment coming to mind as he tries to get a handle on his emotions. Even as Jack jokes, the excitement still gives way to some anxiety. Things are getting good now, and when it gets good, Will always figures that the world is simply looking for a way to get his mood down. “That said, if I embarrass myself in front of the guests? I hope you don’t laugh. Or I hope I don’t embarrass you too much. I’d much rather brain myself on the grill than shove my foot down my throat.”

     it seemed as if no one actually listened to her. she had done wrong but was now of the opinion that she had been punished enough yet they just kept going. “you’re the one who followed me, cornered me, hurt me. this isn’t a matter me not starting something.” people were out to destroy her and they were doing a pretty good job without the authorities snooping around and pulling her in for question. it wouldn’t end and it needed to because whenever she would set on a path of self-improvement, an event would disturb that and no issue would be fixed. 

           losing her ability was an interesting experience. it was meant to make her feel easier but it didn’t. the woman’s nose was bleeding and she was unsure of the cause. “jack, undo whatever you just did. udo it.” it felt as though she was shouting into a void. emmeline had been out of control when she had some sort of awareness of what was going on - if jack abused that and took it on, things would become catastrophic, with potential bodies getting caught in the cross fire if something happened. 

    that home truth upset her. as soon as she was released from his grasp, emmeline could feel the lump in her throat getting bigger before she, predictably, lost control and started sobbing. there wasn’t much of an empire to begin with but jack’s words only reinforced how alone she felt, how alone she felt now that nathaniel was truly out of her life and people were against her… because of him! it was infuriating but her infatuation over him couldn’t just disappear completely. her entire life had revolved around him, she spent most of her time thinking about how her actions affected him. the term ‘used’ didn’t begin to cover it. it hurt. this hurt. however, she needed to keep focused. 

    “jack, you need to give it back right now.” the woman wiped the blood from her nose. “it’s not safe.” 

         “you’re the one who came in with the excuses.” jack is aware of the tipping of the scales. that he’s recognized and pursued her here, that he’s detailing ways to hold her accountable to his ( well, not just his ) standards. that she was going about normal life before their eyes had met. that’s... sort of the problem. she can forget all of this, live out her days as though she isn’t responsible for the suffering of hundreds, if not thousands. that she, through her fathers influence, had made death a blessing within the essex house. he’s tired of the back and forth and more tired of her victimization over the events. the only language she understands, much like her father, is in action. he’ll show her his intentions.

         at one point, her tears may have been cathartic. they only irritate him now. “oh, shut up. stop bawling,” he snaps, lip curled in disgust. “you lost that right a long, long time ago.” when she had used her circumstances against him. all of them. nobody employed by her father had ever used their position for anything but cruelty, and she was not an exception to the rule. she could have done something. feigned evil instead of torturing others. used her perks to help them escape. but no, she had chosen to be wicked. and the wicked are never to be allowed a moment of rest. only in death.

“I’m not very well suited for other lines of work. Working at the Veil means I get to feed and… sate my other appetite at the same time.” Hale wishes she could have a normal job and live a normal life, but that will never be on the cards for her. “I don’t think my boss would be too pleased if I started sucking the life force out of my co-workers. Here? Nobody gives a fuck. That’s why I’ve been at the Veil for almost 10 years.”

Jack’s never been mealy mouthed. His blunt nihilism might have been funny to Sawyer before (and it’s funny how time is split up like that, before and after, because they really feel like they were experienced by two different people, ‘before’ being the epoch of the transformation into the man Sawyer is now). This Sawyer doesn’t laugh like the before Sawyer might have at the idea of having no faith in anyone might save you. This Sawyer agrees. He leans on people a lot, but he doesn’t trust them, not really. He just doesn’t care any more if they drop him.

“Could start gettin’ pretty philosophical on all that,” he points out. “The wrong kinda person is pretty subjective, ain’t it? Every villain thinks they’re a hero ‘n all that.” It’s certainly how he sees the Brotherhood. Villainous, maybe, but ambitions in the right place.

         “i’ve never been interested in philosophy. the wrong kind of person only applies to the people trying to use us. nothing else matters. the fact that one group of them wants to burn down new york and the other wants to make a hideaway inside of it means nothing to me.” neither does any distinction between villain and hero. doing the right thing is never clear-cut. but making sure that the same people he had been viciously tortured with didn’t get exploited? that’s a little easier. a little.