[Sodium_noir] At the Temple

[Jennie Teakle]

JOINT POST  Liz & Jennie

Temple of the Five Dragons

Jack, Christine
Enigma, Mage



Christine picks her way through the corridors of the Temple, past  
darkened quarters, until she spots a muted ball of light glowing  
through the translucent walls. Probably the right place, she reckons  
as she approaches. The sliding door to the dimly lit room is partly  
open and Christine can indeed see Jack, lying on one of the narrow  
futon-type bed rolls that are standard issue in these monkish cells.  
These are comfortable if no frills, as Christine has reason to know,  
having slept on one herself last night.  In fact, lingering on its  
threshold, she reflects that Jack's room could easily be hers or  
Aurora's for that matter. They are all identical. She wonders if Jack  
is sleeping. He lies unmoving, eyes closed, pale as death but from  
the slight rise and fall of the thin blanket, Christine knows he  
isn't actually dead. The air is infused with the antiseptic, rather  
bitter scent of healing herbs. Maybe the monks gave him something to  
help him sleep? Christine stands still, dressed for a party in  
borrowed finery, last night's mostly empty bottle of cheap vodka  
clutched tightly in one hand. She hesitates. Perhaps she should not  
disturb his much needed rest.

Jack’s eyes are still closed, more from savoring the feeling of  
renewed strength and an absence of pain, than a compulsion to sleep.   
Whatever herbs the monks had given him, they’d certainly freed him  
from any discomfort.  In fact, he felt quite pleasantly numb.  The  
monks had dressed his wounds, bathed him, and tucked him in for the  
night.  ‘Nice place’, Jack was thinking.  ‘I could get very  
comfortable here.’

And then the sound of footsteps and his nostrils detected her scent.   
Christine.

“You can come in.  I’m not sleeping.”

Jack opened his eyes, his gaze scanning her form, then came to rest  
on the bottle she held.  He squinted, trying to make out the label,  
though the shape of the container was enough to identify it.

“You’ve had a hell of a night, haven’t you?  Seems I’ve driven you to  
drink...”  A smirk played about his lips.  It was hard to tell if he  
was teasing.

“Sorry I can’t join you, but I haven’t been able to manage anything  
more than a bit of weak tea.”  A pause, and then Jack reached out a  
heavily bandaged hand, patting the floor next to his mattress.   
“C’mon, have a seat.  It’s safe enough.  I don’t even stink anymore.   
And I don’t bite, swear to God.”


Christine's expression remains wary as she stares at Jack. She has no  
idea why she chose to seek him out like this, at the expense of other  
obligations. But she did choose. Time to find out why, she thinks,  
giving herself a mental shove. She walks into Jack's room and  
carefully sits down on the floor beside him, just slightly out of reach.

"Not worried about your bite," she lies, avoiding his eye, fixing her  
stare on his clean white-bandaged hand. All she can really see are  
his fingertips and they can't tell her much about him and that's why  
she's here, right? From her pocket she pulls a small saki cup that's  
been ruining the line of her fancy jacket and unscrews the vodka  
bottle. She pours deftly, careful not to waste any - there really  
isn't much left.  She hazards a swift, assessing glance into Jack's  
face. It is haunted and still etched with marks left by pain but she  
can see that, minus death's clammy bloom, he is handsome.

"Yeah," she says conversationally, "I am having a hell of a week. Day  
before yesterday I was a legal assistant. Since then, I found out I'm  
a Seer and a telepath. I can see ghosts and tiny little demons too.  
And guess what? I'm scared, confused and way out of my depth,  
so . . . " She lifts her cup in a mocking toast to herself and downs  
the vodka shot. She pours another then slants Jack a look over the  
rim of her cup. "But things would have to get a damn sight worse  
before I contemplated taking a knife and carving magical symbols and  
shit into my own flesh." Christine manages to find Jack's enigmatic  
blue gaze and hold it pretty steadily. "So . . .  why did you?"




TBC






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