[ The skip isn't built particularly solidly, and it crunches into the shore, splintering apart into driftwood. It's not the only thing fragmenting; from where he's landed with a mouthful of sand, Jesper can hear the sound of explosions, feel the metal without looking. When he rolls to his feet in a cloud of peppery grey sand, it's with his guns out and at the ready — like that's going to do anything.
He looks back. Beyond the chaos on the beach, beyond the breakers, beyond the point where the water is so far away that it tricks the eye into believing it's still, he strains for a sign of the world he just came from. There's nothing but the horizon. The engine fire spilling thick smoke in a long upwards column to mar the blue sky isn't anything like the smog-grey of Ketterdam as it had vibrated apart.
There's a ringing in his ears and Jesper shakes himself out of his panicked daze, sheathes his pearl-handled pistols, runs back towards the wreckage of the skip, even though he had already realized he was alone in those shocking milliseconds before impact. Even if Wylan or Kaz isn't lying injured amidst the wreckage, his craft wasn't the only one. Maybe he can make himself useful. ]
☆ fairgrounds
[ Now this, this is far more his element, even if he can't help thinking the whole fair looks like it was designed by someone who'd read about these kinds of places but never really experienced them. A jumble of things to do, and most of them more wholesome than the kinds of entertainment Jesper was used to.
Or — maybe not quite so wholesome. ]
You've got to be kidding me.
[ As he stares at the phallic food being sold by one vendor, unable to stop the corners of his mouth twitching up. He orders one, of course.
Still, gambling's gambling, and he's drawn to the kinds of attractions that have lit up signs and rows of large plush animals. Turns out his luck's no better when it comes to spinning this wheel than the black-and-red Mekker's wheel in the casinos back home, and he can't quite get the trick of dropping light little balls into the open mouths of clowns, but the ring toss, oh. The same unconscious talent that makes him a precision marksman guides every skipping, skidding ring across the bottles to hang upon the brightly colored ones.
Which is how gangly, brightly-dressed Jesper comes to be navigating this fair with a large purple squid-like plush in his arms, tentacles so long they're nearly dragging in the dirt. ]
☆ notes (( feel free to set your reply in the middle of any of these scenes! or interrupt them with your own calamity! or just 'choose your own adventure' it up, though you may have to hold my hand, i'm still familiarizing myself with the game's setting and tone. c: if you need to check something or chat, i have disco or you can pp fsociety ))
(( also, jesper is: tall, dark-skinned with grey eyes, late teens, pansexual, he/him, with a londonish south africanish blur of an accent. ))
jesper fahey / six of crows duology
[ The skip isn't built particularly solidly, and it crunches into the shore, splintering apart into driftwood. It's not the only thing fragmenting; from where he's landed with a mouthful of sand, Jesper can hear the sound of explosions, feel the metal without looking. When he rolls to his feet in a cloud of peppery grey sand, it's with his guns out and at the ready — like that's going to do anything.
He looks back. Beyond the chaos on the beach, beyond the breakers, beyond the point where the water is so far away that it tricks the eye into believing it's still, he strains for a sign of the world he just came from. There's nothing but the horizon. The engine fire spilling thick smoke in a long upwards column to mar the blue sky isn't anything like the smog-grey of Ketterdam as it had vibrated apart.
There's a ringing in his ears and Jesper shakes himself out of his panicked daze, sheathes his pearl-handled pistols, runs back towards the wreckage of the skip, even though he had already realized he was alone in those shocking milliseconds before impact. Even if Wylan or Kaz isn't lying injured amidst the wreckage, his craft wasn't the only one. Maybe he can make himself useful. ]
☆ fairgrounds
[ Now this, this is far more his element, even if he can't help thinking the whole fair looks like it was designed by someone who'd read about these kinds of places but never really experienced them. A jumble of things to do, and most of them more wholesome than the kinds of entertainment Jesper was used to.
Or — maybe not quite so wholesome. ]
You've got to be kidding me.
[ As he stares at the phallic food being sold by one vendor, unable to stop the corners of his mouth twitching up. He orders one, of course.
Still, gambling's gambling, and he's drawn to the kinds of attractions that have lit up signs and rows of large plush animals. Turns out his luck's no better when it comes to spinning this wheel than the black-and-red Mekker's wheel in the casinos back home, and he can't quite get the trick of dropping light little balls into the open mouths of clowns, but the ring toss, oh. The same unconscious talent that makes him a precision marksman guides every skipping, skidding ring across the bottles to hang upon the brightly colored ones.
Which is how gangly, brightly-dressed Jesper comes to be navigating this fair with a large purple squid-like plush in his arms, tentacles so long they're nearly dragging in the dirt. ]
☆ notes
(( feel free to set your reply in the middle of any of these scenes! or interrupt them with your own calamity! or just 'choose your own adventure' it up, though you may have to hold my hand, i'm still familiarizing myself with the game's setting and tone. c: if you need to check something or chat, i have disco or you can pp
(( also, jesper is: tall, dark-skinned with grey eyes, late teens, pansexual, he/him, with a londonish south africanish blur of an accent. ))