# 🎠 JAKEY > -# he/him // 14 yrs // horse (large) > -# lvl 3 black soul His footsteps echo in the large cavern, and a collection of last words echo in his mind. *Run,* was his sister’s. *I’m fine,* was his beloved’s. And Pontia’s… what were they? *Love is eternal*, he thinks, but… She was afflicted, and he knows that the sickness takes the mind with it. What were Her last words before all of that, when She was fully conscious? Who the hell could even do this to Her? Jakey stops before the blue crystalline emblem, bows before it. *Tell me,* he prays, *what were your last words, before this delirium?* -# Activate **Requiem** - Through prayer, Jakey can divine a dead or Afflicted character’s last conscious words. # One Man’s Trash… (Open) Jakey sits near the mouth of the cavern, nosing through his saddle bags. There’s a pile of ~~junk~~ *fun trinkets* next to him. When you approach, he looks at you sheepishly. **“Oh, I’m just… organizing my things,”** he says. Then, after a moment, he pushes an item towards you. **“Here, a gift for you. Specially picked by me, Sir Jakey Goldstrom, famous for his fine taste.”** His smile is wry. He’s obviously just offloading his trash, but at least it seems like interesting trash… ```Roll 1d100 for a random item! These items have no in-game mechanical use and are for just for flavor and funsies. One roll per player. Feel free to RP in here too or trade with others :)``` “Um, a little, but it’s…” The words catch on his lips, like they sting to speak. “My fault. I’m sorry for yelling. You don’t have to apologize, I was being an asshole.” He closes his eyes. Really, she just looked like a gray horse back in Godcrest cave, but it’s been months since he’s seen another of his kind, of his age. Jakey briefly wonders if he would have the same delusion if he was a cat, since they seem common among the heirs. “Do… how much do you control what you look like to us?” He asks, softly. Then, gazing at the crystalline walls of the cavern, at his warped image, another thought comes to mind. “Little god,” he starts, gently. “What do *you* see when you look at your reflection?” # “Um, a little, but it’s…” The words catch on his lips, like they sting to speak. “My fault. I’m sorry for yelling. You don’t have to apologize, I was being an asshole.” He closes his eyes. Really, she just looked like a gray horse back in Godcrest cave, but it’s been months since he’s seen another of his kind, of his age. Jakey briefly wonders if he would have the same delusion if he was a cat, since they seem common among the heirs. “Do… how much do you control what you look like to us?” He asks, softly. Then, gazing at the crystalline walls of the cavern, at his warped image, another thought comes to mind. “Little god,” he starts, gently. “What do *you* see when you look at your reflection?” ## Cher Cher doesn’t say much as she lies there. Too lost in thought, it seems. That, or she’s content for a moment to have let her thoughts show themselves, and to not let these reflective halls turn her mad from loneliness. It’s a shame there’s no way to leave. The caverns are beautiful in their own way, but she’d kill for a little change of scenery. The silence starts to nibble at Cher, but as she raises her head to check on Jakey, she sees him nosing around in his bags. It’s clear to her that he’s looking for something…but she can hardly expect that he’d pull out the Gods-damned book. The book. Her book. No…*his.* Cher can’t even speak. She stares at Jakey, jaw open and eyes wide with shock, like her tongue’s been coated with molasses. A thousand emotions crash through her at the mere sight of the cover, and yet, she has not a single word to express them. Those pages are a testimony of her love to a man she thought she would spend her entire life with. Now, it was also a eulogy. Her family’s eulogy. **”You…”** she starts quietly, her expression frozen from shellshock. **”You have it. My book. I-”** She blinks as if only registering what he said, then shakes her head with a curl in her lip. **”…that’s not even close to what happened, Jakey. He had** ***everything*** **from the life he left behind in his draft, and he gave it to me.”** She looks up at Jakey, turning around to face him with a growing insistence. **”He had enemies. He left them all behind to be with me, and he trusted me enough to put his life in my paws. He thought I could pour my love onto those pages. Like I could stoke someone’s heart just by laying eyes on it. And I didn’t do enough.”** Her face crinkles for a moment, but she grits her teeth as she looks into his eyes. **”Listen to me. They found him because of that book, and they** ***killed*** **my family. How is that not my fault, Jakey? How would they have come if I hadn’t wrote it, and they wouldn’t have read it in the first place?”** ## jakey **“Cher.”** Jakey says, firmly. **“You feel guilty. I get it. Fucking hell, I *get* it, but it’s selfish bullshit, you’re making it all about *you*.”** He takes a shaky breath. His eyes are closed, brows furrowed as he recalls. **“My sister was killed, too. It was my fault, but… she would disagree, I think. And call me big-headed.”** Jakey doesn’t realize it, but his memories are being reconstructed in the shadows surrounding them, silent. There’s a herding dog, trotting happily alongside a five-years-younger Jakey. And if Cher were to focus, she could hear his thoughts as the scenes play out within the cavern. There are other figures present in the memory, but the features are hazy. They’re following the heavy footprints Jakey had left behind. He had inadvertently led her killers right to her. The shadows swirl as the scene abruptly changes. The dog is taking her last stand, blood dripping down her chest. She barks something towards Jakey and the others. Orders to run, while she bought them time. Sheppy could’ve fled—perhaps she *should’ve* fled—but she fought to the death to ensure her family’s safety. And of course he grieved. Of course he felt responsible. Of course he cried for days, sick to his stomach with heartache. But Sheppy would’ve hated all that. God, she would hate that so fucking much. *Lighten up, dickhead,* she’d often say to his chronic pessimism. And when he buried her, tears running down his face, Zhenya softly headbutted him with a smile, reminding him of the precious time they’d spent with her. *Lighten up, dickhead,* Zhenya had said. *She’d hate to see you ugly crying over her grave.* Jakey dismisses the shadowy memories with a bittersweet sigh before opening his eyes once more. His gaze falls on the book. Soft echos of whale song fill his mind. **“You can say it’s your fault all you want, I won’t stop you now.”** Jakey murmurs, voice low. He looks back at the cougar woman, his green eyes intense. **“But in his final thoughts, do you think he blamed you? And if he were to see you now, would he be happy that his death is also killing you?”**