Welcome to Gaia! ::

Domestic

"Pffffhah. Wish someone had recorded that s**t," Jack lamented. He leaned his head back and over the top of the chair, wincing as it bit into his skin but needing the stretch. At least they were starting to warm up quicker this way; he couldn't say he didn't enjoy her proximity, however entangled their circumstances were. "Thinking of getting any more?"

"Aren't mermaids already naked?" he pointed out, though he was smiling himself. Both ideas sounded right up her alley. "If you get struck by the urge for tats again, I wanna be there to record it for posterity, alright?"

At Chel's question, he paused and closed his eyes in thought. For a moment he thought she meant the marking at his neck, but his hair had gotten so long now that he was pretty sure nobody had been able to see it. "Shoulder. It's a phylogenetic tree," he explained. "A diagram of the evolutionary relationships between numerous species based on their taxa and genomic—" He stopped and made a face at himself, then tried again. "It's a map attempting to show how closely related species are. A real one doesn't look like that, it's more abstract and complicated and obviously a lot larger. There's problems with the concept, though, it doesn't account for limitations like hybrids—" He had to stop himself again.

"Been thinking about getting it removed, honestly. It's kind of a stupid looking tattoo in retrospect."

Domestic

"I'd be erasing the stupid nineteen year old asshat part," he retorted, but he shifted a little uncomfortably because she was right: it did used to mean something. Now it was a relic stamped on his shoulder he didn't have a meaningful memory for.

"It's called a tree because it branches out like one; it's better drawn if you kept to one kingdom, I guess." Pulling the hand out of his pocket, he directed Chel's finger towards the Animalia section since it was the largest and went from the outside in, roughly approximating the mark as they went from the inside out. "I found the design online one night and figured why not. I was drunk and bored, it looked cool, and a friend was offering to pay for it like an early birthday gift. Seemed like a good idea at the time, and I guess..."

He let her go and pocketed his hand again. "I guess I liked thinking everything was connected somehow," he finished in a mumble, like it was a thought to be embarrassed about.

Domestic

He shushed her when the laugh got too loud, darting glances at the assembled tents. It was easy to forget there were other people there, asleep or not. "He'd be right to," Jack said, yawning. "Alcohol thins your blood, makes it easier to bleed out, means it could ******** up the design. Any tattoo artist worth his ink wouldn't do anything if they think you're drunk anyway. So you'll either have to get good at hiding it, settle for a shady place, or face it like a man. Mind you, I waited so I didn't look smashed when I went in.

"But...no. Nothing disconnected. The inverse, really." The way his mouth tugged to one side was a sign that he wasn't willing or ready to talk about it. It was almost funny that Chel mentioned having something she wanted: he mocked his tattoo, she mocked her scar. But they both wanted something that could last, even if the options were very different in meaning.

Jack glanced at her. "So what you're saying is," he said slowly, the tug turning into a lopsided smile of his own, "you don't want anything to do with a shaved p***y?"

Domestic

The chair scooted back half an inch as Jack tried to sit up, chuckling. The more Chel buried herself against him, the more he kept slipping against the fabric of the seat—but he wasn't complaining one bit about it.

"You can if you want," he told her, making no motion to pick up the pad as his hands were just starting to get warm. "There's nothing special there, just some association words. Still haven't cracked the song writing process secret."

Domestic

The first page front and back were unrelated notes to the mission: something about the Haunted House and its theorized sentience as well as what the ghosts it spawned insinuated.

The second page front and back had notes about Zhuolu (history, not legend it said next to the word) gathered from the travel book as well as a few pertinent details learned from Chel and Jordan's stories. Ancient reapers? was circled next to aiding humans, meddling, or caught in the war? actual demon present.

The third page had sporadic words: stars, night, vastness, space, light, and numbers. That was all he had managed to write down as far as song lyrics were concerned. There was also a doodle of a few stars in the margin, no doubt from boredom.

"I don't think so," he answered, mildly surprised she knew such trivia. "What'd they say?"

Domestic

"Huh." Turning thoughtful, Jack closed his eyes and considered the information for a while, the sound of Chel's music turning into a faint buzz in the background. Between getting cozy and having a fairly busy day, he could have fallen asleep like this had his brain not been buzzing. (He missed this, he realized, he missed meaningful contact. Fake girlfriend or not, Hanna wasn't fulfilling these social obligations, and the only thing more annoying than his admitting it was the ease Chel kept reminding him.)

"Here's my take on that: why give anything else the spotlight? If you have to blame something for a mistake you made, you also have to let them take credit for what you do right. It's pretty much like saying you're not in control of your life." And he could never abide by that willingly. "Greeks and Romans, they believed the gods were present in everything—not just a part of life, but a way of life. Those ********, smart as they were, thought everything centered around divine beings. But you know what I think they got right? Letting their gods be as human as them."

The more he talked, the less he had to think about her face being so close that all he'd have to do is turn—

He opened his eyes and kept them skyward as if his answer was being read in the stars. "They pulled the same s**t we do: they cheated, they lied, they fought over incredibly petty s**t and got jealous. Is it really bad to think god and man are the same, then? That we can't be just as smart, just as powerful, and just as ******** stupid? No god ever apologized for being who they were. Why should we?"

Domestic

The hum of approval along with a close lipped smile made him catlike again, intensified when he closed his eyes and slightly tilted his head into her fingers; he was a little helpless against the sensation, just like he had been the time she spent the night over. Part vampire, part god. He was as content with the description as he had been with coffee ice cream. "As someone who is cursed with awesome," he all but purred, "I can say you've got a point." It was just that his was obviously superior.

Somewhere in the back of his head, Owain was chiding him for letting this go on if he wasn't intending to do anything in the end. It was half-hearted, though, easy to ignore.

"Hah~ Nice one," he said in appreciation of the joke. "I guess you could even call me a Jack of all trades." He cracked an eye open to look at her, grinning a little at his own joke in turn. "You know, I'll be honest: it feels like every time we meet, you surprise me just a little bit more."