RP: Lies I Told Myself
Date: November 18, 2004
Characters: Jack Sloper, Roger Davies
Location: Five Alarm (Midday)
Status: Private
Summary: Everyone has their demons.
Completion: Complete
Jack slid onto the nearest stool after purchasing his pint of butterbeer (three down since he’d been back, and the novelty still hadn’t worn off), relaxing into his chair as he set the glass down on the table. He liked this pub, he’d decided. The Staff were friendly; the atmosphere was easy…and there was just something about wizarding bars. Maybe it was the magic surrounding him; it was almost palpable to someone who’d been removed from it for so long. Maybe it was simply being back where you truly belonged. He didn’t think he’d ever know, but for now, where he was, he was content to sit for a while.
In truth, he had mixed feelings about seeing Roger again. The two of them had formed a sort of camaraderie during their time fighting together during the war, a kind of bond that only conflict creates. It went beyond amicability and into an almost fraternal sort of link, but without the attached intimacy. During the battle and the slaughter, and the constant aggression it had been comforting, but now…
He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what questions to ask. How could you articulate anything about what they’d experienced? How could you put into words how you felt after something like…well, after what he was sure they’d all been through? Diction, syntax, vocabulary…they all seemed terribly inadequate in facing this task.
But there were other demons that haunted Jack Sloper. Things he’d rather stay hidden, but had consigned himself to face when he’d decided to re-engage with this world.
He supposed that this was one of those testing times.
And so, taking another draught of his butterbeer, the sensation strangely muted this time round, he sat back and waited.
Characters: Jack Sloper, Roger Davies
Location: Five Alarm (Midday)
Status: Private
Summary: Everyone has their demons.
Completion: Complete
Jack slid onto the nearest stool after purchasing his pint of butterbeer (three down since he’d been back, and the novelty still hadn’t worn off), relaxing into his chair as he set the glass down on the table. He liked this pub, he’d decided. The Staff were friendly; the atmosphere was easy…and there was just something about wizarding bars. Maybe it was the magic surrounding him; it was almost palpable to someone who’d been removed from it for so long. Maybe it was simply being back where you truly belonged. He didn’t think he’d ever know, but for now, where he was, he was content to sit for a while.
In truth, he had mixed feelings about seeing Roger again. The two of them had formed a sort of camaraderie during their time fighting together during the war, a kind of bond that only conflict creates. It went beyond amicability and into an almost fraternal sort of link, but without the attached intimacy. During the battle and the slaughter, and the constant aggression it had been comforting, but now…
He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what questions to ask. How could you articulate anything about what they’d experienced? How could you put into words how you felt after something like…well, after what he was sure they’d all been through? Diction, syntax, vocabulary…they all seemed terribly inadequate in facing this task.
But there were other demons that haunted Jack Sloper. Things he’d rather stay hidden, but had consigned himself to face when he’d decided to re-engage with this world.
He supposed that this was one of those testing times.
And so, taking another draught of his butterbeer, the sensation strangely muted this time round, he sat back and waited.