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tell me what I should be seeing
IP: 86.3.232.251
Posted on May 16, 2010 at 09:24:32 PM by Jensen & Kopa

Jensen & Kopa
rulers and guardians of the vista mountain

He had started that day the same way as he always did, with a hot shower in the bathroom of his home. It had seemed empty recently, since he had been forced to throw Kopa out in order to avoid being eaten by his own familiar. Jensen would never admit it but he missed the lion, if you had ever seen them together you would have thought that the fairy would have been glad to see the back of his companion, and in truth, up until it had actually happened, Jensen had believed the same. It really was an example of, be careful what you wish for. Even in Kopa’s absence however, the morning routine had not altered all that much, Jensen would get up, pick out the clothes he intended to wear for the rest of the day and lay them out on the chair by the bathroom door. Then he would turn on the shower and spend the next ten minutes or so avoiding looking down at the left side of his body which was covered in thick black, tribal-like designs and each time they came into view, the hazel eyes refused to see them.

Making a cup of coffee, Jensen stood by the window looking out over the snow covered mountainside around him, now dressed in a pair of black jeans and a navy-blue t-shirt which fitted his muscular arms. The content of the mug warmed his hands and the world seemed to have fallen into a tranquil lull, and for the first time it what felt like months, the sound of a baby’s crying did not fill the corridors which linked each of the mountain homes to one another. Since Prophet had been born and Blake had been around with Joanna more and more, Jensen had begun, and completed, a diplomatic retreat, doing what he was so skilled at doing and, turning away from the things he did not like to think about, pretending that they were not happening and did not exist.

This fake winter which had descended over them had made the already icy mountain air even colder, Jensen’s hazel eyes watched as the steam rose from his cup and spread out through the air. He was deep in thought, that all consuming brooding silence, signified by the furrowed brow and the stillness of his muscular body, eyes staring out but seeing nothing. He was remembering, remembering another cold winter where everything had begun to fall apart. The year they had been forced to ask the village people to take them into their homes so that they did not freeze to death in the frost, the year when he had met her, the year he had fallen in love and been beaten for it. They had broken his jaw, his wrist, his ribs, and as if to serve as a constant reminder to his folly, every time that the weather was frozen, those old injuries would ache, having been healed and set by a rough handed military surgeon.

He had been raised by an army, that was the long and the short of it, and almost everything about him was some unwanted memento of that life, when could he have ever been other than what he was? Perhaps it was these thoughts which stopped him from hearing Phoenix shouts and the racket that she was making as the woman hammered on the wooden doors. Jensen had not detected the roar of the water as it broke upon the land with a renewed fury, did not hear the rush of liquid which spilled into the outer homes through any gaps it could find. He was too haunted by the ghosts who would always keep him, refused to let him go, and it was not until the door burst open to reveal a rather wet looking Phoenix that they were pushed into a temporary retreat, temporarily releasing their hold on his mind, and waiting for the next time that he was alone. Shaman’s doing what-now?” was all that Jensen managed to say, before he felt Phoenix’s fingers close tightly around his wrist and began to pull him towards the nearest staircase, with remarkable strength given their difference in size and build.

“Phoenix!” he said as she let go of him and began to look around her room, “We are half way up a mountain, how on earth can the flood waters get all the way up here?” The words had not been out of his mouth for long before a small trickle of water began to seep under the door and onto the waiting floor boards at an alarming rate. Soon he found himself very glad that he was wearing his usual pair of thick soled, army-issue boots, as anything less substantial would have left him with thoroughly wet socks. “You want us to escape…” Jensen said, turning to face the black-haired woman, his hazel eyes incredulous, “on top of a wardrobe, inside which is a rabid fox with a particular taste for fingers and toes?” As she insisted further, fixing him with one of her more furious looks which told him to shut up and do what he was told, he finally moved to help move the item of furniture, apparently you do” he muttered, lying it down on top of the steadily rising water.

It was then that phoenix announced that it needed to be outside, and Jensen was just about to protest that, he might be strong but there was no way he was carrying such a large chunk of wood down a flight of stair when, out of the corner of his eye he spotted the water level just outside the window. “Oh” he said, striding across the room, suddenly acutely aware of his heart beating hard against his ribs, and folding his fingers around the sash of the window pane. It was easier said than done to open it, the force of the water fighting him the way, but with a final groan of exhortation, the thing shot upwards and water began to pour into the room in a frenzy. Acting quickly he helped Phoenix to lift the thing up and push it out of the open space and on top of the water like a raft, all amusement he had had at the situation moments before now fully expelled from his mind. Jensen helped Phoenix out of the window, struggling at the same time to keep the cupboard steady as she did so, as the torrent of water was proving to be very turbulent indeed. Finally, climbing onto the window sill itself, he pushed off from the remains of their home with his right foot, throwing himself on top of their make-shift boat, and folding his fingers around its edge in order to keep himself in place.

The pair of faeries, found themselves being swept along at an alarming speed, Jensen had not expected it to be quite so powerful. They were tossed about like toys and rag dolls, and he found himself growing more and more light headed, as if he had been spinning around repeatedly for hours, and felt the familiar sensation of nausea threatening to over take him. If the mountain was flooded, Jensen found himself thinking, then what about the other low-land territories, were they completely submerged? And then, he though finally before coherent thought left him, what about Kopa?








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