Jack was grungy from holding the deer as it died, with blood clinging to his arms and hands. In the gloom, he followed the spatter trail to its source.
Linea was curled up tight in her bedroll, with body language that just oozed "go away." Jack doubted very much that she was responsible for the slaying for numerous reason, not the least of which being that her dagger was not really her style; she was more the archer and long-range type, favoring her blade only for when close quarters were necessary. (and the deer would likely not have been necessary.)
That just left Dixie, sitting in the dying firelight.
Jack approached, and did his best to make a pleasant greeting. As he got nearer, he could see blood on her hands. He was not about to pass judgement just yet-- People respond to stress and unfamiliar situations very differently than he was used to, and it was out of character for her to behave overtly maliciously. Moreso, people tended to be rather cavalier about the lives or wellbeing of wild animals to begin with. Things like this would probably be unavoidable, and this would probably not be the last such occurrence.
He took a seat near the fire, just off to her left side. He really was rather bad at this.. All the subtle ways one could pile blame, damnation, or otherwise inadvertently imply something you did not actually intend were things Jack hated about talking. He much preferred the company of animals, where there were no such ambiguities, or potential for simple communication to go so sideways, so quickly.
He took a deep breath, and just went for the direct approach.
"Why'd ya kill the deer?" he asked.
"It happened so fast." she responded. "I saw it charging through toward Linea, and I just--- I just wanted to keep Linea from getting trampled, you know?"
"I un'erstand.." he said while nodding, then hunching up closer to the fire. It was always a sad thing for him to be in contact with a dying animal. It always felt like part of him was dying too, and it left him feeling very melancholy.
"You alright Jack?" she asked, noticing his brooding body posture.
Once more, the subtleties of verbal communication were unpleasant to wrangle with, and he yet again went with the direct approach.
".. I wuz wit' 'er when she died." he intoned solemnly. "Uh Helped 'er have a calm, good, death."
"Oh Shit-- I'm Sorry Jack, are you alright?" responded Dixie, connecting some of the dots, and realizing that he had been communicating with the deer as it died.
"I'ull be fine." he muttered, then sat silent for what seemed an uncomfortable bit of time. "Uh learned wha' tit t'was as they was runnin' from." he offered, breaking the awkward silence.
"What was it?"
"E'res some big.. big mouth'd critter.. as can snap up a full grown deer, or bigger, in one bite. It et one o' 'er friends right in fron' o' er. Lunged up outta da water, and just like 'at, they's gone. Thing comes out at night, an picks off th' thangs as venture too near, then comes out an' moves about on land, eatin' what'er it can run down, afore headin' back ta da water afore mornin... She and all em others, was running from it, tryin ta get away from bein' et... ... Deer don' see too good.. Not like people does no how. I cain't tell ya more an she could show me. No idea what it is-- Jus...."
Jack's voice trailed away as he battled his pent back emotions about this whole ordeal.
"Jus so much is.. WRONG.. with 'is 'ere fores'. So may lives.. Made ta suffer, or jus' snuff'd out without rhyme nor reason.... Shouldn't be like dis..."
The awkward silence returned, then Jack stood up, punctuating the almost palpable gloom he was broadcasting with his candor and odd language.
"Be sure ta let the oth's know what I said... Don't wanna have non-o-ya gets et like at. "
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Topic: Mystville [Game Thread] (Read 119779 times)