Fic: Jenka is alone.
This is post-canon Jenka backstory for theskytides.
Agatha sent the Boys and Jenka out to search for Bill and Barry. Jenka suggested they would have a better chance of finding them if they went separately instead of all together, and Agatha agreed. Jenka was not happy alone, but too stubborn to do anything else. She spent years in the Badlands trying to drown her feelings in violence before finally deciding to look for her companions again.
Title: They Aren't Here
Characters: Jenka
Warnings: loneliness
Wordcount: 400
That had been much too close, Jenka thought, trying to bandage a bleeding gash across her back. It was awkward work, by herself. A gust of wind blew some of the ever-present stinging Badland dust into the wound, and she gritted her teeth, pouring more of her small store of water over her back to wash it off before trying the bandage again. She was long out of battle-draught.
She finally managed to at least slow the bleeding, but instead of going back into the tent or heating up some food, she sat on the stony ground, unable to stop thinking about the recent fight. What was wrong with her? She shouldn't have had that much trouble with a fangworm, even if it was an old one. It was just... Damn it. She had gotten dangerously used to some things. Just because she'd been fighting alongside them for a few decades did not mean she should expect them to always be there.
She made herself roll backward before jumping to her feet, the feeling of the rocks digging into her wound matching her angry mood. What was she, a child day-dreaming about her imaginary friends? Maybe she needed to find something else to kill before she was tired enough to stop this pointless thinking and go to sleep. For now, she put a chunk of meat over the fire and started sharpening her sword, just to have something to do.
Killing was the only thing that helped, recently. Jenka knew she wasn't fulfilling her orders by lingering here in the Badlands, but she didn't know what else to do. She was not going to ask the Mistress for a favor because she bloody missed them. Miss Agatha would probably let her do whatever she wanted, but that wasn't the point! For this kind of request, any of the old Masters would have her flogged and kept in solitary confinement until she howled of loneliness.
Instead, she was doing it to herself.
Pathetic, that's what it was. She laughed at herself sharply, but even her voice sounded tired. She'd been having this conversation with herself almost every night, and it never got anywhere.
Hearing the far-off but unmistakable shriek of a harpy, Jenka got to her feet with a mirthless grin and started walking towards the sound, her movements only slightly stiff due to her newest injury. Her eyes were changing already, the pupils narrowing to slits as the welcome oblivion of the hunt came over her mind. Yes, something else to kill. That would help.
Agatha sent the Boys and Jenka out to search for Bill and Barry. Jenka suggested they would have a better chance of finding them if they went separately instead of all together, and Agatha agreed. Jenka was not happy alone, but too stubborn to do anything else. She spent years in the Badlands trying to drown her feelings in violence before finally deciding to look for her companions again.
Title: They Aren't Here
Characters: Jenka
Warnings: loneliness
Wordcount: 400
That had been much too close, Jenka thought, trying to bandage a bleeding gash across her back. It was awkward work, by herself. A gust of wind blew some of the ever-present stinging Badland dust into the wound, and she gritted her teeth, pouring more of her small store of water over her back to wash it off before trying the bandage again. She was long out of battle-draught.
She finally managed to at least slow the bleeding, but instead of going back into the tent or heating up some food, she sat on the stony ground, unable to stop thinking about the recent fight. What was wrong with her? She shouldn't have had that much trouble with a fangworm, even if it was an old one. It was just... Damn it. She had gotten dangerously used to some things. Just because she'd been fighting alongside them for a few decades did not mean she should expect them to always be there.
She made herself roll backward before jumping to her feet, the feeling of the rocks digging into her wound matching her angry mood. What was she, a child day-dreaming about her imaginary friends? Maybe she needed to find something else to kill before she was tired enough to stop this pointless thinking and go to sleep. For now, she put a chunk of meat over the fire and started sharpening her sword, just to have something to do.
Killing was the only thing that helped, recently. Jenka knew she wasn't fulfilling her orders by lingering here in the Badlands, but she didn't know what else to do. She was not going to ask the Mistress for a favor because she bloody missed them. Miss Agatha would probably let her do whatever she wanted, but that wasn't the point! For this kind of request, any of the old Masters would have her flogged and kept in solitary confinement until she howled of loneliness.
Instead, she was doing it to herself.
Pathetic, that's what it was. She laughed at herself sharply, but even her voice sounded tired. She'd been having this conversation with herself almost every night, and it never got anywhere.
Hearing the far-off but unmistakable shriek of a harpy, Jenka got to her feet with a mirthless grin and started walking towards the sound, her movements only slightly stiff due to her newest injury. Her eyes were changing already, the pupils narrowing to slits as the welcome oblivion of the hunt came over her mind. Yes, something else to kill. That would help.