11-30-2013, 08:15 AM
Jensen was no lawyer, but he had to agree with Jon. Everything about his case was all circumstantial. "I won't say anything else without you present, but I don't hold against the Custodians. They were only doing their job, and things do look bad. I swear to you, though, I'd no sooner hurt my own children."
He looked to hands now withdrawn to his lap. Guilt waged a war inside, fighting against the power's ecstasy. If he didn't let go of one, the clashing wave of each would soon rip his mind apart, but he could no sooner release the guilt than free his own soul from the cage trapping it. Experience made him let go of the light. He'd waged this battle before, and as Jon said, it was easy to lose oneself to it.
So he released the light and the shadows held at bay collapsed around his soul. The transitions were always unnerving, a blind man suddenly seeing the sun and the subsequent eclipse of all light on the planet: both impossible, yet, both known to him off and on for four years.
He steadied himself with a deep breath. "I am resting easy, Jon."
He met the man's gaze. Jensen was tired, sure, and drawn from the stresses of the past few days - or, more accurately, the stresses of the last four years. Eh, technically, the last fourteen years - but there was a glimmer of trust. It was a hard one-eighty to suddenly trust himself around strangers when he wanted nothing but to keep all of them at bay.
"I do have somewhere to go,"
he reflected upon the loft and both the gift and frontlines it represented: a front row view of the apocalypse. Jensen wasn't born to be a shield for anyone else, but he intended to try nonetheless.
"But there's something else. I'm here illegally. My visa expired three months ago. If I'm not going to prison, I fear they will deport me back to the US. I can't go."
He shook his head, frowning. He Jon spoken with Jessika in person? How much did he know? Could Jon feel the heat in Jensen's eyes? He had to stay. "I have to stay here, Jon."
He took a breath. He'd told himself he would tell Jon every ounce of unbelievable truth. The man deserved to know they were in the epicenter of the coming war.
He started to explain, but the door opened without preamble and another stranger entered. He was a middle aged man with silvery hair and a hard gaze that softened apologetically for the interruption. This was no Custody police officer in a long coat cloaked from his shoulders. He wore tactical, utility style clothes beneath and shoes built for long nights on his feet.
"I apologize for the interruption,"
he quickly closed the door behind him and entered fully. He offered to shake hands with Jon and Jensen. "My name is Ömer Indyk, and I am from the Medical Examiner's office. May I sit?"
He pulled a chair next to Jon and showed them both images of the three bodies that arrived in the ME's office that evening. Just seeing them and Jensen's breath drew tight in his lungs. They were hollowed and collapsed: just sacks of skeleton seemingly drained for burial, but never refilled with embalming fluid. Their throats were likewise ripped open.
Ömer went on. "Again, I apologize. But as you can tell, these are highly unusual bodies, and I have a few questions. Such as..."
his gaze ricocheted off Jon and landed on Jensen, seeking a flicker of hesitation or other sign of withholding the truth. Jensen cringed, glad Jon was present. Did this new conversation count as 'testimony'? "Did you see anyone .... unusual ... in the area shortly before the gunfire? Someone perhaps ... highly out of place? Maybe an incredibly attractive young woman? Or a seemingly ... innocent ... old lady?"
Jensen was speechless. "Uhh-"
he started, but a look from Jon and he swallowed what he might have said. But, yeah. Ömer was pretty spot on. That's exactly what had happened. How did he know?
((FYI: The presence of someone from the medical examiner's office is a GM instruction from Ascendancy.))
He looked to hands now withdrawn to his lap. Guilt waged a war inside, fighting against the power's ecstasy. If he didn't let go of one, the clashing wave of each would soon rip his mind apart, but he could no sooner release the guilt than free his own soul from the cage trapping it. Experience made him let go of the light. He'd waged this battle before, and as Jon said, it was easy to lose oneself to it.
So he released the light and the shadows held at bay collapsed around his soul. The transitions were always unnerving, a blind man suddenly seeing the sun and the subsequent eclipse of all light on the planet: both impossible, yet, both known to him off and on for four years.
He steadied himself with a deep breath. "I am resting easy, Jon."
He met the man's gaze. Jensen was tired, sure, and drawn from the stresses of the past few days - or, more accurately, the stresses of the last four years. Eh, technically, the last fourteen years - but there was a glimmer of trust. It was a hard one-eighty to suddenly trust himself around strangers when he wanted nothing but to keep all of them at bay.
"I do have somewhere to go,"
he reflected upon the loft and both the gift and frontlines it represented: a front row view of the apocalypse. Jensen wasn't born to be a shield for anyone else, but he intended to try nonetheless.
"But there's something else. I'm here illegally. My visa expired three months ago. If I'm not going to prison, I fear they will deport me back to the US. I can't go."
He shook his head, frowning. He Jon spoken with Jessika in person? How much did he know? Could Jon feel the heat in Jensen's eyes? He had to stay. "I have to stay here, Jon."
He took a breath. He'd told himself he would tell Jon every ounce of unbelievable truth. The man deserved to know they were in the epicenter of the coming war.
He started to explain, but the door opened without preamble and another stranger entered. He was a middle aged man with silvery hair and a hard gaze that softened apologetically for the interruption. This was no Custody police officer in a long coat cloaked from his shoulders. He wore tactical, utility style clothes beneath and shoes built for long nights on his feet.
"I apologize for the interruption,"
he quickly closed the door behind him and entered fully. He offered to shake hands with Jon and Jensen. "My name is Ömer Indyk, and I am from the Medical Examiner's office. May I sit?"
He pulled a chair next to Jon and showed them both images of the three bodies that arrived in the ME's office that evening. Just seeing them and Jensen's breath drew tight in his lungs. They were hollowed and collapsed: just sacks of skeleton seemingly drained for burial, but never refilled with embalming fluid. Their throats were likewise ripped open.
Ömer went on. "Again, I apologize. But as you can tell, these are highly unusual bodies, and I have a few questions. Such as..."
his gaze ricocheted off Jon and landed on Jensen, seeking a flicker of hesitation or other sign of withholding the truth. Jensen cringed, glad Jon was present. Did this new conversation count as 'testimony'? "Did you see anyone .... unusual ... in the area shortly before the gunfire? Someone perhaps ... highly out of place? Maybe an incredibly attractive young woman? Or a seemingly ... innocent ... old lady?"
Jensen was speechless. "Uhh-"
he started, but a look from Jon and he swallowed what he might have said. But, yeah. Ömer was pretty spot on. That's exactly what had happened. How did he know?
((FYI: The presence of someone from the medical examiner's office is a GM instruction from Ascendancy.))