( open ) you cut me deep

[winscenario]

Who: James T. Kirk & you!
What: Finding out about his blood magic spell (blood telepathy) + Odin's compulsive honesty curse
When: Early/mid April
Where: Around
Rating: PG? Just a bit of blood but not expecting anything more.


I ▹ BLOOD MAGIC

Jim should have figured they wouldn't come back from that cave entirely unaffected. The last time he died he ended up with a soreness in his shoulder and down his side that has never quite vanished, sometimes even prickling and feeling a little numb, so when he actually can't sense anything different in him for days after they come back, it starts to feel like something is just strange or off.

It starts with vague dreams, at first; he can hear droplets fall, something dripping, dripping... it's not until the third night that he notices that the droplets are dark red, thick, pooling on the ground, spattering around. Then he begins to hear voices. Unintelligible words, and it's his voice reaching out, calling, the whispers and the sound of the falling blood drops growing louder and louder, almost deafening, until everything goes still and quiet and all he can hear is his own voice:

Listen to me.

He doesn't know what compels him to try this in the morning, but he does: he goes out to the field at the farm, and he takes out a sharp knife and nicks himself on the finger with it. There's a prickle of pain and he hisses, but instead of focusing on that, he closes his eyes and thinks of a specific person, someone he knows, and reaches out with his mind.

The message is short. A test, just to see if it really does what he thinks it should or not. Somewhere in the city, someone should be getting Jim's voice ringing in their head...

This is Jim Kirk. I'm at the farmland in Sigyn's district. If you can hear this message, please come meet me here.

II ▹ COMPELLED TRUTHS

Like many others, Jim doesn't escape Odin's curse. He's not a secretive person by nature, however, nor does he tend to lie, so he doesn't worry much that he might say something he doesn't want to. However, depending on what hour of the day someone runs into him, he may be feeling less or more frustrated with the curse that compels him to speak the truth, even when unasked or unprompted.

On the other hand, he might instead run into someone else who's affected. He won't use that to his own personal gain, though he might tease just a bit if he's comfortable with the person... But he won't be mean, really.

((ooc: for this prompt, basically feel free to write up your own starter as you think might best suit the compelled truth curse! I'm open to anything at all.))

Comments

[trafficreport]

"Sure." Hey, Jet doesn't think he's going anywhere anytime soon. He's died once already and he hasn't woken up anywhere else, and he has some new blood magic to sort out anyway. "Do scouting. Sentinel work. Other than that, I'm free."

Which is not very free at all, but you know, details. He'll make time if he has to.

[winscenario]

"Same. Sentinel," he gestures to himself, smiling. "So who knows, maybe we'll run into each other in the meantime."

Should make it even easier for them to find a day when they both might be free. For now, he gestures at the bike. "Anyway, feel free to poke around. Just don't take anything apart," he jokes. Well, mostly-- one can never be too sure.

[trafficreport]

Oh, c'mon. Who is he - Ghoul? Kobra? He's not about to mess with anyone's gear without knowing full well what he's doing. He's got a fair grasp of auto-mechanics in a pinch, but that's no excuse to go about taking people's equipment apart.

"Hell no," he says. There's something almost like a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, muted as it is. "Look forward to working with you."

[winscenario]

Well, he doesn't know either of them, and he barely knows Jet too, so-- no harm in making sure, is there? Especially since this bike is pretty special to him, and even if it weren't, finding parts around here is pretty tough.

"Likewise," he smiles, giving the guy a gentle pat on the shoulder. Jet's free to stick around for as long as he likes, but for now Jim's heading inside to clean his cut and bandage it properly, rather than just bleed all over the place.

[trafficreport]

The contact takes him off guard, or at least, something close enough to it. There's a flicker of uncertainty in his expression, a tension that suggests he wasn't expecting to be touched. Nothing personal; he just doesn't expect that level of familiarity unless it's from very specific people.

He relaxes quick.

He tosses Jim a nod, and then he's heading out. Much as he'd like to stick around, he's got his own ground to cover.