Shards and Spears (Jackson LaCroix)

by **Dusk** on May 2nd, 2010, 1:08 am

Shards and Spears
Mid-Spring 510 AV

It wasn't often that someone sought out Jackson for a job - usually in Syliras, it was left to each man to find his own employment, or to ask around the Welcome Center for an odd job here or there. But this was a special circumstance, and so instead of having to ask around, the bartender at the Spinning Coin slipped Jackson a slip of paper with a location and time scrawled on it.

The address led to a set of suites on the edge of Stormhold Castle - which meant that the owner of said suites was more important than your average person. The outside suites were some of the more valuable, since they had real windows, with views of the outside and an abundance of sunshine which even the interior courtyards were missing. When he finally knocked on the proper door, it was pulled open a few inches, a blond woman peering out the crack at the stranger standing in the hallway. "Yes?" she said impatiently.

by **Jackson LaCroix** on May 3rd, 2010, 7:33 pm

The grain of wood felt smooth against Cross's finger as if it's edge had been long softened by the stone of a rare civility. Built to brace the savage hordes and migratory abominations, Stormhold Castle was the last and rumored best hope for a people on the verge of extermination. Despite it's appearance, the buoyancy of airflow here helped numb the idle asphyxiation of the minimalist dichotomy. The knock was surprisingly lighter then intended but not over compensated with another. He stood balanced on both heel and toe, weighted firmly in the balance of muscles triggered to advance ahead. The entryway laced his expectations but Jackson stood near the outline of hinges, waiting for a feminine voice to match the nondescript hand writing. He sniffed the ambiance subtly, partaking in the all the sensations that allowed him to make an initial appraisal. Swinging his head over on an even tilt to forge contact, the note passed between the protective crack that separated them. What a door hid.. The glint of stark weapons. The grip of chains. Vulnerability or malice.

The human`s form was silhouetted by a golden amber rim light, obscuring all but his outlining mass. "You dropped this." His left hand laid on the clef of the hard door, taunting the response.

by **Dusk** on May 3rd, 2010, 8:23 pm

The woman's eyes narrowed as she took the note, cobalt eyes glancing at his hand on the door. She sniffed as she recognized her own handwriting, and then her eyes roamed over his form. He looked like the sort who might be able to do what was needed.

After a few long moments she finally nodded, and pulled the door the rest of the way open, revealing a well-apportioned antechamber. "Please come in," she murmured, letting him inside and locking the door behind them. She waved for him to follow, and led him further into her suites.

The next room was laid out as social quarters with two chaise lounges and a table between them, refreshments laid out upon it. "I take it you're interested in employment?" she asked, eyebrows rising as she glanced nervously around the room, as if to make sure they were truly alone. "And that you're a bit less... delicate about how to carry it out?" she murmured, settling on the edge of one of the lounges and folding her hands in her lap as she turned her focus fully upon him.

by **Jackson LaCroix** on May 11th, 2010, 4:37 am

The distance between them widened as Jackson let the the female's turning body enter the room without him. He smiled softly like the edge of a sickle, watching, then stepped quietly into the apartment with a lit pulse. It was insulting but playfully so, like an appealing scar or birthmark that gave a face distinct visceral character. Picking up an heirloom, the man mislead to admire the triviality before placing it in the next room with a spin. When the blue eyed woman began to speak Cross moved gently towards the sound then around the rim of her chair like an uneasy breeze or unexpectedly swift sensation. The visitor paced behind this blond head, watching how the girl reacted to each subtle intrusion, while as she finished the question smoothly arrived to meet her sitting eyes.

"Delicate.."

The man spoke slow and even in a voice cut with ice.

"First." His foot moved to the edge of the lounge, pressing into a lush pillow.

"I'm not interested in you or your money."

He leaned down, angling his neck while leaving the gaze steady and live. Almost whispering.

"Tell me what you want."

by **Dusk** on May 11th, 2010, 6:58 am

She blinked at that response, and swallowed harshly as if she seemed to realize that she'd let a cobra into her home and asked him to join her for tea. Small hands fluttered in her lap, but her gaze didn't waver from him, something stubborn and determined lighting her eyes.

"If you're not interested in... me," she said, swallowing again as her voice wavered just slightly, "or my money, then I must ask why you're here. Money is all I'm offering," she added more firmly, as if to make that point clear. It took nearly all her strength to keep from reaching for the dagger she had hidden in the folds of her skirt, more to comfort her than because she thought she had any chance of using it effectively.

by **Jackson LaCroix** on May 11th, 2010, 6:58 pm

He didn't move. Didn't speak. The sound of breathing caught along the windpipe evaporated like humidity from boiling water. His skin's climate stayed cool amidst the moisture, livid in healthy color.

"You got my attention. Now tell me what is so important that needs it."

LaCroix's mouth opened quietly, running his words across her cheekbone like the test of warming skin.

Tension pulled his composure in like the drop of first rain, awaiting the storm and the allowance within. Wordless thunder or the strike of force. Moving upward like a caterpillar blooming to the antumbra of an eclipse or the ecstatic rush of wax to the lapping sun.

by **Dusk** on May 15th, 2010, 9:28 pm

The tension she sensed in him made her throat convulse and her hands shake, and before she could stop herself the woman shot to her feet and circled behind the couch to put it between the two of them.

"You are here because the man I contacted sent you," she said, voice shaking and strained as she folded on hand into her skirt and felt for the handle of the dagger hidden there. "Do not think to intimidate me! You will work for me, and I'll not have you..."

Panic had threaded her voice, and anger born of desperation, bitter and thick on her tongue. But even as she worked herself up to what would surely be a gorgeous rage, the air of the room suddenly went chill. Ice cold, as if Morwen herself had exhaled her glacial breath into the air. The woman shivered, her mouth closing with a snap as she gripped the back of the couch, and for a moment it looked as if a breeze touched a single tendril of her blond hair.

Then it dissipated, and left the woman panting and trembling, eyes slammed shut. Another few breaths, and she got herself under control.

"There is a girl," she said quietly, forcing her eyes open and gazing down at him. "She holds the key to something I need. You will take her to one of the ruins in the Wildlands and help her retrieve it, then bring it back to me."

by **Jackson LaCroix** on May 18th, 2010, 12:25 am

Wider came the smile and with it more casual the candor. Emotional resonance blinked below the surface but remained on the lounge. He stood, stretched both shoulders to the neck then turned his back to the female, pandering over the table of food while letting the quality of the moment distill between the poise into a shrill luxury. The kind of cold measure that tipped the border between sharp carnality and the undercurrent of an inescapable provocation; clung like drenched hair to lips. The drink was heady and filled with potential, black berries, wine and sugar. It made him hungry.
He cleaned his teeth.

"What is your name."

The question broke the tempo of this game or simply acknowledged the swirling curls of it's structure collected to overflow. Never brushed static or simply finding the laughing divide of taken ground. It could have meant more.

by **Dusk** on May 18th, 2010, 3:56 am

Dull blue eyes rose to peruse the length of his back, and she loosened her grip on the dagger. She wondered idly if he'd spend the whole night rearrange her baubles and drinking her wine, and why in the gods' names her contact sent her this man.

"Dynan," she murmured, sighing a little as she pressed the back of her hand to her cheeks, first one and then the other. "My name is Dynan. What's yours?"

by **Jackson LaCroix** on May 25th, 2010, 12:46 am

He finished drinking from the goblet.

"Cross."

Turning around, the man re-made eye contact. His features were youthful but cold. Frozen as a fire bright within a solid bastion of ice.

"Specifics of the task, or are these mizas suppose to thrill on faith alone Dynan." He stood near the table, a fair distance from her, watching the woman's body tilt. Many people dared similar aliases to LaCroix or worse, shame they were laughing at a mirror. Lucky for her.. he was just himself. The one and only.