maskormenacelogs | These changes ain't changing me

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These changes ain't changing me

WHO: Jacob Taylor and OPEN
WHERE: Around! Prompts for locations in Maurtia Falls and outside De Chima
WHEN: Set after the Road Not Taken plot, into early July
WHAT: Last month, Jacob was AU'd into a violent version of himself who tried to kill his friends. Fallout and recuperation ensue afterward.
WARNINGS: Talk of violence

A) Pevensie Farm

So, sometimes a person has a bad day. And other times, they have a day where they are magically transformed into a brainwashed terrorist who shoots a friend in the face, pulls a gun on their commanding officer, takes their roommate hostage, pistol-whips their kind-of ex to the floor, and then tries to kill another friend for good measure.

And sometimes, that person remembers every second of what their alternate self did.

After a day like that, staying around in the house one committed most of the aforementioned crimes at is not really an option. Which is what brings Jacob Taylor out to the farm Hawke stays at: a need for refuge and contemplation, a remote location where he can process what just happened. The good news for farm inhabitants is that Jacob is a great guest, attempted murder notwithstanding: clean, considerate, and happy to help out with farm chores despite the many bruises and abrasions on his body from fighting Kasumi and Garrus while under the influence.

If anything, Jacob seeks out chores that will let him use his body and ease his mind. The strenuous, outdoors activity is a good distraction from the memories he has, of bullets and hateful words aimed at his friends.

B) Helix training room

Jacob is off-duty as a RISE agent at the moment, but he still needs to exercise. After a week or so at the farm, he starts making the long trip to Maurtia Falls to put in lengthy, secluded workouts at the Helix base, usually after dark when fewer of his RISE colleagues are around. The crunches, laps, and push-ups he burns through help him to work out the anger and guilt which keeps rising up like bile within him in his quieter moments. In between the less violent exercises, he pummels the room's training bags with punches and kicks as though he could beat "Agent Taylor" out of his mind. He keeps at it until sweat drips from his limbs and stains his tank top.

It doesn't work.

C) Maurtia Falls bar

He has never been someone who drinks to forget or to run away, and he doesn't want to start now. Aside from how unproductive it would be, right now Jacob feels he doesn't deserve the kind of easy, blissful escape that alcohol can offer. Deep down, he knows that he failed, that what happened is still his responsibility, indoctrination and magic notwithstanding. He feels that it was him who put a hole through Joker's face: a different version of him, but a frighteningly plausible one, still containing recognizable facets of Jacob Taylor.

So Jacob drinks to think, and to relax, and to dull the claws of shame and pain that he feels scrabbling at his innards whenever he thinks about the look on Junpei's face when the gun came out. And if he has more than usual, and stays longer than normal, well, that just gives him more time to process.

D) Coming back to MF 001 (July 1st - onward)

Well. This is going to be awkward.

As he settles back into his government-assigned housing, Jacob is grateful to see that the signs of his- Agent Taylor's- rampage have mostly been covered up and repaired. Bullet holes have been removed from the walls, the slashes from Garrus' claws are gone from the tile, and there's no trace of Kasumi's blood on the floor. But it feels like traces of the violence linger in the air like a trail of smoke. Even the pet snake looks at him differently, suspiciously perhaps...

Jacob tells himself he's imagining things out of shame. It's a snake. It can't be judging him. He's doing enough of that himself.

5) Open prompt

[Anything you want!]

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Didn't matter how many miles or states away, Sally could feel the pull. Anger, pain, loathing. Like a hook sinking into her flesh and yanking. And there was just something about imPorts that made the tug all the sweeter to follow. To give in to that call Sally doesn't open a door, she doesn't take a cab. One minute Sally's in her hotel room, the next she's sitting on a lifting bench in some gym, watching a man attempt suicide through punching bag.

She doesn't say anything at first, instead announcing her presence by pulling out a cigarette from the pack in her leopard print coat and snapping open her lighter to light it.

If Jacob is looking for strenuous activity, Hawke's more than happy to provide it and not like that. Minds out of the gutter, folks. She doesn't mind having chores to do, not really, but when someone shows up looking to stay occupied, she's also more than happy to hand them all over onto Mr. Keeping Busy here. With the fight for getting the place upgraded with electricity either still in the works or only just recently agreed to, firewood for cooking is still definitely called for.

Firewood Hawke is going to avoid having to chop as long as she can.

Of course, she's also going to enjoy the view from the back porch. Not lounging, but leaning against the porch's wooden railing and watching from there. It isn't something she'll linger at forever, if only to avoid it being weird. Sooner or later, she calls over to him,

"You've been at that for awhile now! Are you sure you don't want some water or something?"

Jacob is so absorbed by his punchicide that he doesn't notice Sally's presence for a good thirty seconds after she arrives. He just keeps working away at a bag that most definitely does not represent the face of his vicious alternate self, grunting as his fists fly.

It's only when he stops to catch his breath that he notices the smell of smoke in the room from Sally's cigarette. His first thought is fire. His second thought, when he turns his head and sees her on the bench, is what the hell.

"Where the hell did you come from?" He startles visibly, muscles tensing for fight or flight out of sheer reflex. The RISE sections of Helix don't get many unannounced visitors, on account of being a fortress and all, and Jacob's not really in a state to give polite hospitality at the moment.

As long as Jacob is on this farm, no one need fear any shortage of firewood. As an added bonus, Hawke and any other interested parties can help themselves to the sight of an exceptionally fit, brooding, sweaty man splitting wood outdoors for long periods of time, too absorbed in his thoughts to notice if he's being observed.

(Honestly, the way Jacob is right now, Hawke would be doing him a favour if she did want to provide activity like that. There's a fair amount of tension in there that could do with some releasing.)

She catches him in mid-swing when she calls out to him. Jacob freezes with the axe over his head, sets it down slowly, and straightens up, blinking. "Sorry, didn't catch that!" He calls back. He was too focused on thinking about chopping and not thinking about anything else to have heard Hawke.

"You tell me, honey."

The lighter has been tucked back away into an inner pocked tens of seconds ago, leaving Sally to lounge and inhale, exhale, and appreciate the sweat soaked form.

"Seems you've got sins to confess."

It's certainly the best added bonus there could ever be. Even so, with that in mind, the entire fiasco with Kasumi leaves Hawke cautious on a few very particular topics. Whether it'd be awkward, whether it'd be poor manners since he's a guest... but that's not something she'll dwell on right this second.

She waves him off, as if to say 'wait there', then disappears back into the house. From the back door, the kitchen isn't far, and the one thing they do manage to keep is an icebox. With ice, thanks to the friendly neighborhood mage. When she comes back out, it's with a glass of ice water, which gives her as good an excuse as any other to walk out across the yard to hold it out to him.

"I said, you're going to drop dead of the heat if you keep up like that. Here."

Okay, that isn't what she said, but the sentiment is close enough.

Jacob snorts, then rotates his body to face Sally full-on, giving her a suspicious look. She doesn't seem like a threat, but she sure as hell isn't any RISE agent he knows, either.

"You don't know me. And no offence, but if you're a priest, then I'm the President."

He gestures to her, ignoring for the moment the way she's 'appreciating' him... And ignoring the fact that the RISE gym is a no-smoking room. "Who are you?"

He stares at it for a second, as though remembering oh right, people need water to live, don't they. He abruptly becomes aware that he is actually deeply, intensely thirsty, and reaches out a grateful hand. "Thanks."

Jacob takes a long drink, chugging without regard for the pain the cold leaves in his throat. Then he pours a little over his head and neck for good measure, rinsing off the sweat. It feels good, and he sighs accordingly.

"Didn't realize how much I needed that, I guess."

It isn't an amused laugh, just a sharp sound, be hell. The man was right.

"God's no use to us down in the gutter. My name's Sally. I listen, not forgive. Or judge. That's why you called me over."

She scoots over and nods at the gym bench. Come sit with her. Or don't. At least she offered.

Jacob folds his arms, looking skeptical.

"I don't remember calling you at all, Sally."

But she seems harmless enough, and he does need to sit down after all that punching. So after a moment, he does come over and take a seat by her, keeping a distance just in case her visit is an exceptionally odd attempt to attack RISE.

All in all, that's very distracting to watch. Only rather than staring, Hawke stifles a laugh with a hand. It comes out as an amused snort instead and she has to turn to walk a step or two away before turning back.

"Sorry," because that's not a normal response to someone drinking a glass of water. "That was like something out of a... what? A drink commercial?"

She doesn't watch all that much television, but she's at least seen those.

Jacob snorts right back, then takes another drink before responding. He doesn't pour it on himself this time, though. Hawke doesn't need the extra ammunition.

"Maybe the commercials were made by people who chop a lot of wood," he speculates, shrugging. "Or maybe I've been watching too much TV." As though Jacob is some kind of a couch potato. Even when he broods, it involves an axe and lots of muscle power.

He takes one more drink, then sets the water down on a nearby stump and picks the axe back up, as though he's already set to resume chopping. "It's a really nice place here, isn't it?" He observes, looking around at the idyllic setting. "Peaceful. Quiet."

"Oh, that's not how it works."

She might be a ghost of fear and pain, but she was raised semi-right. Sally offers over a cigarette as she continues.

"Tell me what happened. No secret runs away from me, I promise."

"At least it isn't as bad as the shower ones, where they're all slowly shaking their hair back and forth instead of doing the smart thing and getting a towel."

At least Hawke finds what TV commercials she does catch really damn amusing. It's also a less broody topic to dwell on, which she imagines he probably needs right now. Though, when he brings up the farm, she pauses to look around them, silently wondering where the dogs are if he thinks it's peaceful.

But... well, he's not wrong.

She gives her head a small shake and idly hooks her thumbs into the pockets of her jeans, for lack of anything better to do with them.

"It really is. Maybe a little too quiet. Did I ever tell you I grew up in the countryside? Of Ferelden, of course. Not exactly like this. Close, though."

It helps that Jacob really likes dogs, regardless of how much barking they might currently be doing. Hawke's topic change is appreciated, though. Anything that doesn't involve brooding or dehydrating himself through chores is a plus, at this point.

"I don't think you did." Jacob shakes his head. "Honestly, I always pictured you as a city person. Kirkwall, right?"

Jacob declines the cigarette with a raised hand. His body is a sweaty temple, okay.

"I just met you. Sorry if I don't spill my guts right off the bat."

He pauses while something roils inside of him, aching for release. She's here for a reason, and it's not as though the chaos of the last month is a secret or anything...

"I did some things I regret. Except maybe it wasn't me that did them. More like a... part of me. Does that make sense?"

He'll be surprised if it does. It doesn't make much sense to him right now, and it's his life.

"Kirkwall was the first and only city I ever spent time in, actually," Hawke says as much with a light laugh, like there's something about that she finds funny. In a sense, there is. All that time out in Lothering and it turned out she was happier in a city all along.

"But I grew up in Ferelden and Kirkwall isn't a Fereldan city at all. Out in the Bannorn, which is basically farmlands. Lots of space, that sort of thing."

It's good to hear Hawke laugh. At least one of them has to do it, and Jacob's not up for that particular duty right now.

"So I guess being here is kind of like coming home for you," He ventures. He has never spent much time in the countryside personally, but after being here for a few days, he can definitely appreciate the appeal. There's something special in being able to see all the way to the horizon when the Sun sets, without any buildings or vehicles in the way. "Is that why you moved out here?"

"Once upon a time, a little part of me killed the two people I loved most. Some things, some parts of us, we use whatever we can to push down for a reason."

There's no judgement, not even a real hint of some ulterior motive. Not like she gives enough of a shit about the people in this world to black mail them. That was saved for those near and dear to her black, dead heart.

"Tell me. I like details."

Jacob leans back on the bench, bracing himself on one arm, and crosses the other over his lap as he scrutinizes Sally once more. He's not going to give her details- he's still not sure that he shouldn't be expelling her from Helix as an intruder. But there's something different about her that dissuades him from just shutting her down outright. The fact that she just admitted involvement in two deaths might be part of it.

"I like details too. How about you tell me your story first?" He proposes. He wants to know about the parts of her that she's pushing down before he thinks about showing any of his own.

"Not really," Hawke admits. It might be like home in some ways, but some differences are just too vast. "While I don't mind the peace and quiet, cities still have their own draw. I moved because the former residents were sent back home and Lucy was alone out here."

"Aw, honey. I need a little more to whet my appetite for you before you get the whole sad story. Not that the current get up isn't helping."

She leans in, cigarette held to the side, to place a hand against his shoulder if he lets her. There's alcohol on her breath and he's...firm. Makes her reconsider the demand.

"Just a tiny, little bit."

What the hell. Jacob shies away from her touch and the smell of booze. Then he stands up from the bench and reaches for his towel, starts wiping the post-punching sweat off his body. If Sally is here for a show, the theatre is closed.

"Are you here to listen or are you here to look?" He asks, back to her as he rubs down his shoulders and arms. "And 'both' isn't an option, Sally." And if she wants to do the first, she'll have to share something to convince him she's worth trusting with his assorted issues.

"That makes sense. It's a big farm to live on all by yourself."

Jacob nods with approval. He doesn't know Lucy much personally outside of visiting her clinic once, but she did earn his vote during the election debate through her answers on security De Chima policy. And she has very graciously allowed a space marine with Regrets to crash at her farm, which is nice of her. "Are you two close?"

She tuts, but leans back against the weight-bearing metal arm of the bench, a scowl on her face. Typical. Want a shoulder to cry on, but no giving a girl her choice in payback. Men.

"Fine. My ears are all yours. Do what you want."

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These changes ain't changing me

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