Smoke and Mirrors.
Smoke and mirrors, incense and bright colors. Jackson rubbed his eyes, and in a blurred reflection caught sight of a uniform that didn’t belong to him - saw bright purple eyes questioning the antique sword in his hand. Blinking quickly to clear the bizarre picture, he saddled up to the bar, unsure of exactly why he was in this remote location - a stranger in a very strange land.
That’s not entirely true.
He was, of course, after something. Always searching - it was how he had more or less started a career as a gentleman airship thief. While he looked for bounties, sometimes he searched on the right side of the law, other times, he acted from a place that wasn’t entirely legal.
Today he was in search of a jewel - actually not much more than a stone. It was said to hold magic properties. It would grant wishes, some promised. It would make you live forever, others told. It could connect lives in dangerous entanglements, others warned.
He had tracked the gem to this godforsaken place. Nodding to the man behind the bar, Jackson tapped the glass and held up three fingers, hoping to warm himself up from the inside. The ride in had been particularly brutal, and while the barkeep poured, Jackson attempted to brush ice from his unruly blonde beard. After knocking back the burning liquid, he turned around, taking a closer look at the room - realizing it was less a drinking establishment and more some sort of shrine. The potent drink began to take effect, softly blurring his tense muscles, allowing him to relax.
As the other patrons turned to look at the rather archaic stage that had been set up in the front of the room, Jackson assumed it would be rude to place his attention otherwise. Furthermore, it didn’t appear that many would want to speak about the location of the stone while the performance was taking place. In his travels, he’d seen dervishes, magicians and those who seemed to be able to bend the very elements around them. He wouldn’t mind a bit of distraction a moment's rest from his current journey.
The house lights dimmed and while Jackson kept a casual hand close to his holster, he relaxed further and watched a singular individual moved on stage. It was a she, make no nevermind about that. Dressed in an expensive skin hugging shade of scarlet (he knew those who produced such a dye), she moved in accompaniment to a stringed instrument he’d never heard of before, yet knew the melody of. Like many others in the room, he could not take his eyes from her. Towards the end of her act, she seamlessly integrated a set of stunning fans in her choreography, coming to a triumphant finish as she struck what he imagined to be an invisible foe.
With everyone clapping and shouting their approval, she bowed deeply and moved offstage.
Of all the things Jackson was expecting on this quest, she was not one of them.
Do not get distracted.
"Too late," he said to the empty glass and moving to where he'd seen her exit.
Photo by Anita Anti.