 08:37:23 Versa| Think they can move backwards if the training isn't high enough for the level they're at |
08:37:19 Myth/Crowley/Grinch| It wanted bto restart the race. |
08:36:23 Leaf| My horse just moved backwards what the fuck? |
08:34:51 Storm| They are. He even has work tomorrow. Not my problem |
08:33:12 | I agree with Crowley. DUIs are serious. Let him think about the consequence of his actions. |
08:32:38 Storm| Second that I know of lately, first was when I was 8 or something. |
08:32:13 Storm| My old truck, not my current one lol |
08:32:12 | @Storm, is this the first time this has happened? |
08:32:07 Peep/sam| Storm egh, hope it all works out |
08:30:59 Storm My truck, unfortunately in his name, got home around 520 pm. Figured he was on his phone in the yard again
2 hours later go to look. He's not outside. Called for 2 hours before he just answered at 9. He got a DUI a mile from home and the neighbor, who rides a freaking bicycle. Picked the truck up but didn't tell me that dad was in jail. So now I'm awaiting to hear if he needs bail tonight which I'll have to pay and he will pay me back. |
08:30:58 Geek SINN
They often did fundraisers an' shit, but nobody really donated anything. With constant repairs to their emergency vehicles, lack of people willing to help maintain the grounds, and a shitty treasurer there, they had no choice. Nothig was working, and my grandmother HATES our FD, especially my godfather, who's the chief there. |
08:30:25 | Level 2 race up! Only need one more to complete this quest! |
08:29:14 SINN~ ISH/SH Breeder 08:28:57 Peep/sam Rip Myth
Storm, what's up? |
08:28:28 Storm| I am so done with my dad. -.- |
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Sage gave her a nod when she agreed to staying below....he was glad how important her mission was. A lot of people would have argued. They wanted to be part of the action, not just hide below deck. What they didn't understand was that may very well be the most important job out there. But she knew that...understood the gravity of their situation. He was certainly glad of that. When she turned to go below, he offered her a tense nod, face softening for a moment. "You too," he added softly, before looking back towards the horizon, and the ship they were now coming up upon. He could hear the men yelling, scrambling to ready the cannons and load their guns already. "Be ready," he called down to his men, wind whipping around the ships and the sea churning under them. His men responded with a yell, something that brought a fierce smile to Sage's face. They weren't much...just a raggatey crew of men doing their best to survive. But they were a good group...strong and determined. And he'd fight for them any day. Everything was tense, quiet, for a few moments, before both captains yelled to fire. Sage had called it slightly before the other, so the first round of bullets and arrows hit plenty of the other men. Their cannons plowed straight through the ships hull, another cannon shooting a chain connected by two cannon balls at the mast, breaking the main mast easily. It didn't come without consequences, plenty of his men also got hit in the process, and he handed the helm over to the person who mainly steered the ship, moving to fight with his men. He covered the few who'd gotten hit, making sure they could limp down to where the doctor and Jora were. They'd be alright. The enemy's weapons were advanced though, and more and more men fell. So, when the men jumped onto sage's own ship, he lept into the fray madly, killing anyone from the opposing side he came across. And it was only when a cannon blow hit near him, sending a chunk of a board into his gut, did he realize this wasn't a battle they could win without his powers. So, with his last bit of energy, he held a bloodied hand out towards the other ship, slowly curling his fingers. The men began to wriggle in pain, only pretty well explode a few seconds later as he forced all the water out of their body, and they all collapsed, dead, now just shrivelled hunks of dried out flesh. He slouched over then, pretty well passed out. He just had no energy left. It would have been taxing without being hit, and combined with the energy he'd pushed himself well past his limit. But they'd won. His men wer alive, the ship was mostly ok. That was all that mattered. |
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Jora had been crouched in the dimly lit space below deck, the rhythmic creak of the ship's timbers beneath her and the sounds of battle filtering faintly above. Her hands were steady as she worked, organizing supplies, checking weapons, and preparing for any injuries that might come down below. She wasn't one to panic. She understood the gravity of their mission better than most; there was no shame in being below deck if it meant keeping the rest of them alive. Her role was just as critical as any of the others. Sage had nodded in agreement, and she trusted that he knew it too, even though his focus was already shifting to the battle ahead. When she turned to go below, his voice, soft yet firm, reached her. *“You too.”* His words lingered in the air, almost like a promise, and for a moment, the intensity of the moment seemed to soften. Her eyes flickered back to him, her heart feeling the weight of his unspoken gratitude. Jora wasn’t the sentimental type, but she could feel the unspoken bond between them—understanding and unbreakable. She didn’t need him to say much, just to know he trusted her to do her part, even when it meant staying in the shadows while the others fought above. The next few hours were chaos. The ship shook with the violent force of cannon fire, and every time the men above shouted, it felt as if the earth itself were splitting. But Jora had learned long ago how to block out the fear, how to drown out the panic that surged through her. There were things to be done. There was work to be done. It was only when a sharp cry cut through the din of battle, followed by hurried footsteps below deck, that Jora’s focus snapped fully into place. She didn’t need to ask. The screams from above said it all. She rushed to the wounded, her hands steady as she administered what little help she could—stitching wounds, binding broken limbs, all while her mind remained half up there, where Sage and his men were fighting tooth and nail to survive. The sounds of battle above had faded into a distant roar, but the knowledge that the worst had come, that men would be dying or already dead, gnawed at her. Then came the silence—the kind that presses heavy, that settles over you like a weight. It felt wrong. She couldn't help but glance toward the hatch, knowing that Sage, the one person she truly trusted to lead them through this madness, was out there. It felt like an eternity before the door swung open. It wasn’t Sage. It was one of the crew, covered in blood and breathing raggedly, a look of terror in his eyes. He hadn’t even had time to speak before Jora was moving—she didn’t need words to understand the message. They’d won… but at what cost? The ship lurched again, a violent jolt that sent her crashing against the wall, and the next moment she was on her feet, rushing to the deck. She could barely take in the chaos—the destroyed mast, the twisted wreckage—but her gaze immediately found Sage. He was slumped, barely conscious, his bloodied hand outstretched. She didn’t know what had happened, but she saw the aftermath—the enemy was no more. And Sage... Sage was done. She couldn’t tell if he was dead or alive, but there was no time to ponder. “Get him below deck,” she ordered. She moved quickly, scooping him into her arms with the help of another crewman, trying to ignore the blood, the destruction, the overwhelming weight of everything. As she worked, tending to Sage's wounds, her mind raced. They’d won—but there were too many things left unsaid. Too many things left to be done. And no matter what, she knew one thing for sure: it wasn't over. Not by a long shot. But they were alive. And that would have to be enough—for now. |
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Sage was only dimly aware of anything that happened after he'd slumped down to the ground. His vision was blurry, hearing going in and out. What he could hear was muffled, as if he were underwater. He fought to focus on on things.....how many casualties had there been? Who had died? Was the ship sinking? Or was it ok? Was Jora safe? He fought to open his eyes, to gather enough energy to look around and figure things out. He flinched slightly when someone grabbed him, but he recognized his first mates voice and relaxed. The man was older....but he did know what he was doing. He heard Jora after a moment too, dimly aware of her leaning over him, her hands on his body as they worked to staunch the heavy bleeding he knew was happening. He felt a cool rag slip over his forehead, along with the voice of his first mate, the dampness of the cloth cooling his body down and taking the fire that seemed to be within him and dimming it a bit. He probably had a fever. It wasn't the first time his powers had exhausted him ....the older man knew how to deal with that well enough. It was worrying though, especially knowing he also currently had part of the mast embedded in his gut. Or maybe they'd taken it out already, in which case he'd be bleeding even faster than before. The first mate had murmured a few words of explanation about the fever to Jora, making sure the cool cloth stayed on his brow while she worked. He helped where he could, of course, but she was faster. More efficient. So he let her do her job. Combined with the ships doctor, they managed to patch Sage up pretty well. He was unconscious by then, barely breathing and burning with fever . But he was alive. The crew would want to know. So, he made sure they were alright without him, then slipped away to manage the things that needed to be done. It was many hours later when sage finally stirred. His head pounded, and he really just felt like shit overall. His vision was still blurry, things swirling around a bit, and everythibg hurt his head. Hia shirt had gone...somewhere, but he had a bandage wrapped snugly around his torso. So he closed his eyes, but when he heard Jora nearby, he couldn't help but speak up. "How many casualties," he asked. He could barely speak...he wasnt even sure she could hear him. But he had to know, even if his whole body hurt like hell. |
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Jora's fingers had been working with the bandages, her mind focused on the methodical task of making sure everything was secure. She couldn’t let herself think of anything else. But when she heard Sage’s raspy voice—weak, faint—calling out to her, she froze. *How many casualties?* It was a simple question. A necessary one. But it stopped her heart for a moment. She had hoped, for his sake, that he wouldn't ask, at least not yet. The fear that he might not be ready for the answer—that it might push him back down into the dark, fragile state he'd just come out of—pricked at her chest. But he’d asked. And there was no denying him the truth. She gently set the bandage aside and leaned closer, her voice soft, but steady. “We lost a few,” she began, carefully choosing her words, "but we’re alive, Sage. The ship’s still afloat. The crew… they’re holding together. The mast… we’ve patched the worst of it up. You’re the one who needs to rest now." Her hands hovered near him, unsure whether to keep tending to him or let him rest. But she could see the glimmer of strength in his eyes, even if it was faint. “You’ve done your part,” she added, her voice softening, "Now it’s time for you to let us take care of you." She couldn’t keep the concern out of her voice, but she kept her tone level—his pride wouldn’t accept too much sympathy. Still, there was something raw in her chest, a depth of emotion she couldn't ignore, even as she kept her face calm and composed. The pain he was in, the toll his powers had taken on him... *she couldn’t lose him*. Jora let the silence settle between them, hoping that he could hear her as much as she could hear him. |
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Sage was relieved when she responsed to the question. It wasn't a direct response...but he also wasn't sure how long he'd been out for. That first night was the most critical. More men may yet pass through the next day or so. Or, he could have been out for a few days, and everyone else was alright by then. He wasn't sure. But...they'd lost a few. Men had died. He'd known it would happen, of course, but it still pulled a heavy breath from him. He wanted to ask who, but she didn't know any names. He'd have to ask later, when his first mate came back. So, he nodded slightly in response to her question, taking a deep breath and moving to gingerly touch the bandages, in an attempt to figure out what exactly had happened. How bad it really was. He knew he'd taken a pretty solid hit, he just wasn't sure quite how bad it was. He couldn't tell much at the moment either, but given how much it hurt and the amount of bandages he had wound around his torso, it had to be a pretty nasty wound. "Then things are alright? Jase's taking care of things?" He felt about ready to pass out again, but he needed to know. Naming the first mate would assure him the man was alive, and ok. And that there was someone in charge while he was down here. He felt bad he couldn't be up there with them, reassuring them. Helping those who needed it. Burying those who didn't make it. The last part hurt the worst...he doubted he'd be able to make it all the way upstairs to give them that last honor. To settle them gently into the waves, using the currents to bring them gently to a place where their bones could rest in peace. His ears twitched slightly when he heard her step closer to his bed, and he opened his eyes to turn his head as much as he could to look at her. He knew she'd be worried....he was probably hurt worse than he'd realized. He probably still had a nasty fever too...those could last for days as well. "I'm alright," he noted quietly, moving to feel around to pat her hand weakly before closing his eyes again. He was probably concussed, if the dim light from the single window on each end of the ship hurt his head so much. That wasn't very surprising. But he appreciated to know that she cared. How hard she'd worked to help him, and his crew members. They'd certainly needed her today. |
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Jora watched Sage carefully, his words and the slight movement of his hands telling her more than he probably meant to. He wasn’t alright—not in any real sense of the word. The fact that he was even asking about Jase, about the state of the ship, when he clearly wasn’t in a condition to move... it was something between stubbornness and duty. He always had a way of bearing the weight of his crew on his shoulders, even when his body couldn’t carry him any longer. The pain was obvious. She saw it in the way his face twisted slightly when he moved, and the way he tried to touch the bandages. His body was clearly fighting against him, and yet he still sought reassurance about the crew. About Jase. About everything else but himself. He didn’t want to think of the death, the men they’d lost. She knew that. He was strong—stronger than most men she’d ever known—but he wasn’t invincible. She moved closer when she heard him stir, and the moment his gaze met hers, she could see the exhaustion in his eyes. Even now, he was struggling to stay awake. *Not a good sign*, she thought. His body was speaking to her louder than any words could. She kept quiet for a moment, watching him, feeling the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he labored to stay conscious. She almost didn’t want to tell him, afraid of what it might cost him, but she knew the question was coming. He’d want to know about Jase, about the crew. It was his way. "Jase is doing fine," she said softly, watching him nod, and then leaning in closer to keep her voice low and steady. "As fine as any of us can be right now. We’ve lost men, Sage... but there’s still hope." She saw him flinch slightly at the words. He hadn’t asked who, hadn’t asked to hear the names, and she wasn’t going to tell him if he didn’t. His focus was on keeping the rest of them together, even in the face of their losses. Her heart ached for him, watching his hand reach out weakly for hers. She let him take it, giving a small squeeze in return. "You’re not alone in this," she murmured, watching his eyes flutter closed. She’d been there, pulling them all through the worst of it. And now it was her turn to help him. He might not have wanted to admit it, but he needed rest. *More than you know,* she thought quietly, brushing a strand of hair out of his face before stepping back. He’d fought hard to keep his crew together, to keep them alive. But even the strongest captains needed someone to steady the wheel when their hands grew too weak to hold it. The room grew quieter then, the steady creaking of the ship, the muffled sounds of the others working on deck. She couldn’t help but wonder how long it would take before Sage was ready to carry the weight of it all again. And when he was, she'd be right there beside him, just as she always had. |
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Sage waited for the girl's answer, hoping the ship was functioning alright and the rest of the crew was ok, and Jase was in charge. That would certainly be good news to hear. Especially admist all the chaos and destruction the battle had come with. It always came with death, he knew....he'd become accustomed to loosing men. But it still stung. If he had done anything differently, could he have saved them? Could he have used his powers sooner, and less of them would have died? Would he be out of this mess? The sad thing was, he'd gotten more rest hurt already than he had in probably a solid week, and he was a bit grateful for the rest. Someone else could worry about making the hard decisions for a while, if only for a few days. Part of him felt guilty about thinking that way....and he did want to make sure they were all ok. But the ship was still floating, and moving as normal.The sounds coming from above were the same as they always were, with the crew cleaning up and Jase's voice rising among the clamor. And they wouldn't have been followed...the enemy was all dead. So...he could rest, right? That was ok, wasn't it? He nodded when she explained everything was alright, letting out a heavy breath and relaxing again. It was only a small nod, given the fact that everything was hurting, but it was acceptance that he could do nothing more but do his best to heal, so he could get back out there. He didn't like it....laying down here and resting while they patched the ship up, some with injuries felt just wrong. Granted if they were working their injures would be minor....but still. He felt bad about it. But he knew if he tried to do anything he'd probably open his stomach up and bleed out or something. That wouldn't help anyone. He couldn't stay awake any longer though, and his eye fluttered closed and his head lolled to the side slightly, hand still limply in Jora's. He had to admit, it was nice to know she was the one that was there caring for him. She wouldn't sugar coat things...she'd tell him what was going on, or anything that happened around the ship. If he was getting worse...which was a worry. Infection was common, especially in deep wounds like that, as ships weren't exactly the cleanest thing on the planet. Or...the ocean? He wasn't even sure anymore. He didn't especially care, either. He didn't wake again until the next day....or at least, what he assumed to be the next day, since there was a full stream of light coming in through the window. He felt better than the last time...his vision was clearer and his head didn't pound quite so much. His hearing was a little better. That was all relitively normal....sense came back completely within a few days after exerting his power like that. He wondered if he still had a fever. He glanced around for Jora then, wondering where she'd gone. He dimly remembered her being there before....he wasn't crazy right? No, he saw her after a moment, though his hair fell in his face again and he attempted to shove it to the side, but it just fell back over his nose. He attempted to move it more, which sent a nasty feeling through his entire torso, and he let out a string of nasty curses he'd picked up from sailors and pirates over the years he'd been on a boat. He couldv'e gone on for a while, but he lost his breath pretty quickly. He wouldv'e cursed about that too, exept now he was wheezing so all he could manage was a furious "dammit," and flopped his head down, hair moving with each breath. "Hair tie," he sort of managed to wheeze out after a moment. He was really just asking if she had one....his hair was driving him nuts. He wasn't sure he could put it up, but he sure as hell was gonna try, because this was rediculous. |
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Jora watched as Sage stirred, his disheveled hair falling in his face again. A soft smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, but she didn’t let it show too clearly. He looked a bit better—his color was returning, the fever easing, but his discomfort was still obvious. She could see it in the way he tried to move, the way his chest tightened with each failed attempt to fix his hair. She'd seen him like this before—tired, wounded, but stubborn as hell. It was part of what made him who he was, but it also meant that sometimes, she'd have to be the one to hold him back, keep him from pushing himself too soon. But that was a battle for later. Right now, she couldn’t help but find it endearing, in a way, that he was trying to get his hair out of his face even when he could barely breathe. "Hair tie?" he wheezed, and Jora blinked, quickly reaching for the small leather strap she kept tucked in her pocket. She didn’t even think about it; it was one of the little things she'd learned to keep on hand. She'd always known he'd need it at some point, even if he never admitted it. “Hold on,” she said, voice gentle, but firm. She leaned over him carefully, not wanting to make his pain worse, and tucked the hair tie around his head before gently pulling his hair back. "Better?" she asked, her eyes scanning his face for any signs of pain as she worked. It felt like the most natural thing to do, taking care of him like this, even when he was a pain in the ass and tried to hide it. She didn't mind. After everything they'd been through, he'd earned this much. “Don’t push yourself," she added quietly, still sorting through his hair, keeping him as comfortable as she could while he recovered. "You need rest, Sage. I’ll handle everything else." There was a certain calmness in her tone, but the underlying concern was always there. She wasn’t about to let him make things worse for himself. She could see the guilt in his eyes—she knew it all too well—but it didn’t mean he had to carry it alone. |
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Sage heard the girl wandering closer to her, and did his best to turn his head towards her as she moved, in an attempt to see her. Maybe it was stupid, but he just felt better when he could see her. Safer. More secure. No one was going to try and attack them that was on the ship, and there weren't any ships on the horizon so there really was no reason to worry about anything....but still, he just felt better knowing she was there. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he also sort of didn't care why. His head hurt too much when he tried to think. So screw that. He offered her a tired but thankful grin when she worked at his hair for a moment, nodding slightly and letting out a huff of air, slowly catching his breath back. "Thanks," he muttered quietly. It did feel much better without the stuff falling all over his face. Sometimes he did wonder why he kept it so long....but keeping it trimmed and all that was also such a pain in the ass he figured it was better to just tie it back and be done with it. Plus it covered his ears up, and he often had some form of a lock pick in there somewhere, so that was handy too. Her words drew him back to the present, and he wrinkled his nose slightly. "Not much I can do but try to get better," he noted. Of course, when she said rest, he sort of groaned, a whine of "but that's so fucking boring," coming from his mouth, all the while his body betrayed him at the mention of sleep and was trying to pull him under again. "How long have I been knocked out anyway," he asked after a moment, speech sort of slurring as he grew more tired, but stubborn enough to stay awake at least a few more minutes. He still had questions, things he needed to know. "And I wanna keep part of that plank," he added, nearly passed out by then. But he did sort of want the plank....it had buried itself in his gut and he'd survived....it could make a nice decoration or tool or...something. He wasn't quite sure. But he didn't want to just toss it away either. Or maybe he'd just gone plain nuts and he'd have to rethink that decision later. Oh well. He didn't much care. |
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Jora could hear the quiet rustle of Sage shifting, feel the weight of his tired gaze following her movements, even if he couldn't quite focus. She tried not to smirk at the way he seemed to gravitate toward her presence, even in his delirium. He wasn’t usually the type to openly admit needing anyone—hell, she wasn’t sure he ever *did* admit it—but there it was. It wasn’t so much about making him feel better, as it was just... keeping him grounded, keeping him here. She didn’t mind, though. Not one bit. When he muttered thanks, she gave him a brief, soft nod and kept working through his hair, pulling strands back from his face. It wasn’t much—certainly not what she’d normally do for someone—but it seemed to help. It was the little things, right? His voice, though quiet and laced with exhaustion, still had that edge to it, that sharpness she recognized. She couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth as he whined about resting. “Boring, yeah. But you’ll survive,” she replied dryly, glancing down at him. She didn’t even need to hear him to know he was fighting sleep. She was used to his stubbornness by now. Still, the question about how long he'd been out caught her off guard. She hesitated for a second, her fingers stilling in his hair, then replied, “About two days.” Her voice was quiet but steady, the usual sharpness replaced by something softer, something she didn't show often. But she didn’t mind letting that part out with him. Sage wasn’t so much a *friend* as he was... well, something else, and she’d never quite figured out what. But he was important, more important than she'd ever really let on. And then his rambling about the plank made her laugh softly—surprised, but amused all the same. “You’re nuts,” she muttered, more to herself than to him, but it wasn’t like she hadn’t expected it. She wasn’t sure if he was serious, but that was Sage for you. He survived a damn plank through his gut and came out of it with ridiculous ideas about souvenirs. She sighed, finally easing a bit of tension from his scalp before dropping her hands to his shoulders, as if to steady him. “I’ll let you keep the damn plank if you promise me you won’t try to use it as a weapon or something dumb like that,” she said with a half-grin, still working to keep him present. He wasn’t out yet, but he was close. “And you’d better rest... or I’m gonna make you regret it.” |
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