The flood has wrapped its foamy lips around Shaman, and only the Core is safe.
But how safe? muses Jasper. He imagines that he can hear the distinct beating against the stone walls as the water attempts to breach the safe-house. People are huddled together, pushing away the cold and the dark as they sit, grouped, around a fire. The flames cast furtive shadows across the faces and walls; Jasper pulls and pushes at these shadows, twisting them and turning them and making them into recognisable creatures – fanged predators and brutish birds and mythical beats from stories past – before blinking them back to the gloom. His powers meld together sometimes – he isn’t sure whether he just used his illusionism or simply manipulated the darkness, or if it was a combination of the two.
He is bored; he wants to leave. He wants Sadie, too, which gives him a cool shiver down his spine; he has never so desperately wanted to be near anyone or anything before, bar Iodine. But with his sister, it is different – she is the only one who really can understand him. She knows what he has been through, and she has been through it herself. She is different to him though; they are almost like fairy and familiar, two halves of a soul. He is the darkness whilst she is the light.
He can hear her now, chatting animatedly to Draco, Poppy nowhere to be seen. Jasper smirks; he doesn’t need to be telepathic to understand that he and his sister are hardly Poppy’s favourite people, though Penguin doesn’t mind them too much. No matter, though. One day the likes of her will be crawling at his feet, begging him to save them.
He will just laugh, bitterly.
He turns, now, away from the dancing flames and the haunting echo of voices. He hisses, sending out weak thoughts of hatred and distrust; he hopes to affect as many people as he can, but he doesn’t know if it will work. Though he has been practicing with Ellie, she can only feel his attempts when she is quite close. He doesn’t care, just sending out the emotions cheers him up. Rolling his shoulders, he sits, staring at the wall, imagining what the Shore’s looks like now that it has been flooded. He sighs, glad that there was only a little of his stuff there. He doesn’t own much – he feels sorry for Iodine, who is missing Flo and her favourite cuddly bear. He wants it back for her; he imagines one up but someone laughs and the illusion dissipates. He snarls.
He doesn’t like this much company.
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