I dare you to move;

[survivorking]

Who? shadesofeco and survivorking
What? Jak is trying to murder his liver. Damas is tired of watching his son do this to himself. B|
When? Tonight
Where? Sergei's
Rating PG-13 and up

Comments

[shadesofeco]

[Jak's there, in a booth tucked away in a corner. A long empty glass sits beside him, and his chin rests on his chest. He's not quite asleep, and he stirs when he hears footsteps, sitting up straighter as he sees Damas.

This isn't exactly the kind of place he expected to see his father.]

[shadesofeco]

Are you done?

[It's a stupid answer. An angry, bitter, knee-jerk response.]

If you're looking for who's responsible, go find Erol.

Things were FINE before he threw me in prison.

[Jak's just drunk enough that actually talking -- well, yelling -- about what's bothering him seems like a good idea. And for once, he's not blaming Praxis first.]

[survivorking]

I will let you know when I have finished, Jak.

[Damas' glare takes a turn for the dangerous, his voice a low, angry snarl.]

There are more demons at work here than Erol, and enough of them are in your head. You are going to kill yourself unless you help yourself.

['Cause Damas is certain Jak won't let him help at all.

He's not done, but he takes a pause, waiting for a retort. If it doesn't come, he'll continue. He's curious to see what Jak will let slip-- or if he'll say anything at all.]

[shadesofeco]

[Surprisingly, Jak still has the energy to fight back, and his eyes are darker than usual. He's never talked back to Damas before, never dared say anything out of line.

But that was when Damas was a king, the fierce leader who saved Jak and Daxter's lives and could just as easily end them by casting them back out into the Wasteland. Now it's different, now Damas is closer, he's family. Except that Jak doesn't really know what to do with that. And if he's not sure, he'll do what he usually does; fight it.]

You don't know what this is about!

[Except his voice cracks and takes away from how threatening a traumatized, pissed off, drunk nineteen year old could possibly sound.]

[survivorking]

That is because you choose to hide it so well! If you wish to stow it away within yourself and let it devour you, that is your choice. Those of use who care for you and your well-being will persist. Make no mistake of that; we are here for you-- I am here for you, whether you want us or not.

[Damas says this with absolute finality. Argue against him, Jak, he dares you.]

[shadesofeco]

[Jak has nothing to say to that. What can he say to it?

Of course he doesn't want to tell anyone. It's humiliating, embarrassing, and his own goddamn fault for not fighting back hard enough and asserting himself. For not saving his friends again. It makes him angry, scared, it drives him forward to get revenge. Too much has happened, all of it locked up inside and now his outlets have been taken away.

It's a lot harder to deal with all that trauma when there isn't a world to save to distract him.

Scowling, Jak rubs his forearm across his face. There was just the smallest hint of a tear before he covered it up. When he lowers his arm, it's gone.

What the hell kind of warrior cries?]

[survivorking]

[The king settles back, taking a breath to steady himself. He saw that, Jak, and you would be surprised what kids of warriors cry-- your father, for instance. Though, not at this moment.

He says nothing for the longest time, unable to allow himself to speak until he's sure Jak won't storm out. The fact that he remains here says something.]

The question is, ultimately, whether or not you will allow my help.

[shadesofeco]

[Jak doesn't trust his voice just yet. He absolutely refuses to cry in front of Damas. In front of his father. He won't disrespect him like that.

Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and lets it out. These constant mood swings are getting old and fast.]

[survivorking]

It is your choice, Jak.

[And he will sit here until you make it.]

[shadesofeco]

[Jak links his fingers and rests his elbows on the table, leaning his forehead against his hands.

He'll be waiting a while. In fact it's several minutes before Jak finally answers, looking up over his hands.]

I trust you.

[survivorking]

[Good to know. The old king falls back to his habit of searching Jak's eyes. His son's voice sounded alien in this silence. Damas searches for something else to say, having exhausted his eloquence quota for the evening.]

I will be there for you, any time you need me.

[shadesofeco]

[It's about all Jak has left in him, too. He's tired now, not just physically from lack of sleep. Just in general. Tired of this boat, tired of carrying all this emotional dead weight. Tired of that look.

The sentiment does make things a little less daunting though, and Jak's expression softens just slightly before he scrubs a hand through his hair.

You'll have to forgive him, Damas. He's not sure how much he believes that, all things considered. It is a nice thought though.]

[survivorking]

[Damas nods, understanding something unsaid. He stands back up, hands curling to that position behind his back, his king facade going back up.]

You should rest, Jak.

[Sleep somewhere other than a bar, tonight.]

[shadesofeco]

[If he sleeps at all.

Jak glances at him and then nods.

He's got a lot to think about.]