#wariver

Darkness everlasting ellipses between pending crescent lids on the brink of parting of eyes nearly rolling back into his skull, fragmented images blur in tandem of waves of pain coursing through a body nearly crushed for what felt like hours since wading in a mind unconscious. He had had worse falls, yet the sheer force in combination with the bullet hole now occupying his upper left shoulder only deepening the hurt that felt so resolute in keeping him pinned to mud and gravel that cradled him.

Involuntarily he gasps for air, rasping for coolness of breeze seemingly evaded his lungs until hes forcing in breaths that had been knocked out of him so thoroughly he had simply felt as if he hadn't breathed at all. Fighting between consciousness and a spinning world, John pushes through ache with hands pressing behind his back to a sitting position propped up on their efforts of staying upright.

Realization becoming awareness in light of eyes blinking away fatigue as anxiety recalls the nature of his current state. the train speeding away as hes left for dead by men who had called him brother not more than a week ago. If family meant being abandoned over and over again, he'd be sure to return the favor after getting his family out of beaver hollow and away from Dutch for good.

She stood a torrent, eyes matching his dark gaze that had leveled to rival hers in their furrowing judgement of his place on the ground below, somewhere amidst sitting stop a horse several paces at his flank looking down her nose and expression half shaded against willows that overcast them both. However long she had been there, he hadn't the time nor energy to scrap against another person considering she had more than enough of an upper hand, and he reduced to carrion on the side of an embankment.

Something about it seemed familiar but he could not put his finger on it.

Presque vu. It was right there. So close. But… not quite. Delayed recall. Cognitive Latency. Asynchronous Recollection. Perhaps it would come to him later, like it often did, when stuck on a problem and the solution presents itself to him in the most benign of settings (like while taking a shower, or when climbing the stairs).

It was on the tip of his tongue. A sense, like so many. Hard to describe. Something halfway between tasting and hearing. There was a distance between him and the one that was seeding the air with its particles.

Usually, it was easy to feel the natural reaction of either this is nice, I want more or this should not be near me, get it away. Usually, scent was absurdly easy for him to discern. When the woods smelled like whatever was in the woods and not like where he grew up, when these were not the smells that he knew best. Like the trunk of a fallen redwood, covered in moss and slowly decaying as mushrooms dug their tendrils into its wood. There was a difference to the mushrooms whose network laced underneath his childhood home, fruiting in anything that had fallen. Pine needles, clean air, and rich dirt buried under layers of rotting leaves (redundant—the smell was all that which it was). A difference to the rotting leaves he played in as a kid.

This scent was symbolic. It was meant to mean something to him.

But what? But what? Pine and snow. Pine and snow...

—and blood and snow and salt he knew was only ever found in water. Tears. Which had not fallen between either of them but he remembers them being there, still. He remembers their scent. As he remembers the image. As he remembers her name even before he gets to see her.

❛  𝚠𝚑𝚘'𝚜  𝚝𝚘  𝚜𝚊𝚢  𝚒  𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝?  ❜  teddy  questioned  with  a  slight  smile.  he  took  her  by  the  hand.  hoping  she'd  ignore  the  dirt  and  blood  that  stained  his  own,  he  kept  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  backside  of  her  palm  as  that  smile  grew  more  fondly,  not  yet  moving  to  meet  her  gaze.  ❛  𝚊𝚗𝚍  𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚑?  𝚗𝚘...  ❜  he  spoke,  his  thumb  caressing  slowly.  back  and  forth,  over  her  hand.  ❛  𝚝𝚘  𝚋𝚎  𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚝...  𝚒  𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝  𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔  𝚊  𝚍𝚊𝚢'𝚜  𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚎  𝚋𝚢  𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎  𝚒  𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗'𝚝  𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚍  𝚢𝚘𝚞.  𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛  𝚒'𝚟𝚎  𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗  𝚒𝚝...  𝚊𝚍𝚖𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚍  𝚒𝚝  𝚘𝚛  𝚗𝚘𝚝.  ❜  he  raised  his  gaze  now,  in  hopes  of  catching  the  glimpse  he  wanted  into  her  eyes.  

@wariver

Jacob would be lying if the hint of excitement in Sokanon's tone didn't spark a need to know what so brightened her often reserved countenance, letting her lead him through the dust and the crowds into the cool shade of a shop. A warm smile soon tugs at his lips, "I'm touched you remembered... Thank you."

He marvels at the workmanship of the stitching and lining before he steps in and changes behind a screen. Once dressed, he swaggers out to show her and turns a little, feeling more confident already.