jaxinthebox (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
jaxinthebox) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2026-03-28 08:19 pm
jaxinthebox) wrote in ph_logs2026-03-28 08:19 pm
[Closed] Well, well, look who's inside again
Who: Jax (jaxinthebox), Pomni (jeveuxpartir), & Ragatha (raggedydamn) (and potentially other CR!)
What:Reconnecting after the fall of King Eligos
When: The days following the incidents on March 15th
Where: Jax's townhouse, Downtown Hollow
Warning(s): Suicidal ideation, past gore, and everything that goes into that :)
If it weren't for the knocking at the door that echoes throughout his home, Jax still wouldn't have found a reason to pull himself out of the bed, even at the sun-shining hour of 3PM.
Maybe it isn't the most mature choice, to hide away in his house, or the "responsible" thing to do. Nor is it probably up there in the choices he could've made that might've been filed under "considerate of others." But considering that he got his skin ripped off, got impaled, and accepted his death all in the span of a few hours, then proceeded to have to claw his way desperately through bones and monsters and continued terrors.
Yeah, maybe he should've gotten in touch with the people who give a damn about him. But he distinctly did not do that.
In fact, the note on his door, left to potentially deter visitors, reads:
DIED.
COME BACK LATER.
But, when the knock comes, within a few minutes there's footsteps on the other side of the door nonetheless, and a familiar voice that pipes up. He sounds hazy with sleep, the way one might after a nap that was supposed to be twenty minutes turns into a three-hour one. (That's not entirely off, either, but does it count if you've been in and out of sleep for an entire afternoon?)
"So, can you not read, or are you here to try to do a seance or something? Because I'm not really feeling up to that kinda thing right now."
jaxinthebox), Pomni (jeveuxpartir), & Ragatha (raggedydamn) (and potentially other CR!)What:Reconnecting after the fall of King Eligos
When: The days following the incidents on March 15th
Where: Jax's townhouse, Downtown Hollow
Warning(s): Suicidal ideation, past gore, and everything that goes into that :)
If it weren't for the knocking at the door that echoes throughout his home, Jax still wouldn't have found a reason to pull himself out of the bed, even at the sun-shining hour of 3PM.
Maybe it isn't the most mature choice, to hide away in his house, or the "responsible" thing to do. Nor is it probably up there in the choices he could've made that might've been filed under "considerate of others." But considering that he got his skin ripped off, got impaled, and accepted his death all in the span of a few hours, then proceeded to have to claw his way desperately through bones and monsters and continued terrors.
Yeah, maybe he should've gotten in touch with the people who give a damn about him. But he distinctly did not do that.
In fact, the note on his door, left to potentially deter visitors, reads:
DIED.
COME BACK LATER.
But, when the knock comes, within a few minutes there's footsteps on the other side of the door nonetheless, and a familiar voice that pipes up. He sounds hazy with sleep, the way one might after a nap that was supposed to be twenty minutes turns into a three-hour one. (That's not entirely off, either, but does it count if you've been in and out of sleep for an entire afternoon?)
"So, can you not read, or are you here to try to do a seance or something? Because I'm not really feeling up to that kinda thing right now."
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She can feel him stiffening, though, she realizes. She's pushed too far, asked for too much. She eases off.
"...Sorry. I just... think about the kind of stuff, sometimes. People, memories... they're important to me." A beat. "Thank you for telling me."
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He draws in a breath, and lets out a slow one, turning his attention back to the wall across the room.
"Thinking about that kind of stuff's gonna make you go nuts. And nobody else bothers. Bet you could even ask Rags if she remembers half the people she saw come through, and she'll be able to tell you just a couple things at most. And they're right! Why bother?"
His tangent falls quiet when he catches himself, and he lets out a stressed breath through his teeth, before he readjusts his hold on her, settling a bit closer.
"...I dunno. I'm probably just overthinking because I'm tired, or drunk, or something."
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In reality, it's none of that, exactly, it's more... just... realization. Understanding Jax's mentality a lot better than she previously had, even with just that handful of words. He'd done some serious mental gymnastics to protect himself, and Pomni was already a little aware of that, but the extent has deepened substantially.
He's scared.
After a strange, silent moment, Pomni scoots up a little, so she can be the one whose head is on top, the spot where her nose would be pressed to his forehead. "I won't forget about you," Pomni reminds him, very softly so that no one in the world might dare hear. "And I won't leave you all alone again. I'll remember your friends with you, so that they can live in me, too. And I'll be here for you if you need me. Always. I promise."
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Always.
There's a gravity to that, one that he almost can't handle. His heart hammers in his chest. Gold eyes stare through her, pupils pin-pricked, as his mind races in circles at incomprehensible speeds.
His resolve collapses, like rotten beams of an abandoned home caving in.
Letting out a shuddering breath, he can't find the words. He's worried that, if he dared to try to find out if he still had a voice in him, that something about the mere idea of permanence in someone's mind, of someone in his life, might choke a sob out of him. So he doesn't; instead, he simply tucks his face further against her, looping his arms tighter around her.
He doesn't want to lose this. But at the same rate, isn't he just preparing her for something worse when the inevitable comes to pass?
What an unbelievable tangle this has all turned into.
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That's saying the absolute least of it, but it's better if some of these things stay in his head, even if it makes his skull feel like it threatens to split open. After some of the shit he's said today, the least he can do is keep some of it down for once.
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After a reluctant moment, he lets out a quiet sigh, curling up a bit where he lies. "...Thanks, Pomni. Probably should go ahead and knock out, right? Since we apparently need sleep now. It's messed up, if you ask me."
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"What? Naps are fun when they're optional, and you know I love b
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That's awfully close attention paid for a guy who takes great pains to make sure everybody knows he doesn't care what happens to the people around him.
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A beat. He tries to think. He can't come up with anything that would've caused that.
"How should I know?" Another beat. "What... does it smell like?"
smell game perplexing af
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Another beat.
"Stop smelling my forehead."
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Jax snorts, but settles back in, ears tipped back. He lets out a quiet, content breath; the jokes eased off the pressure of the difficult conversations significantly, even if he's certainly going to be dwelling tomorrow, and it's practically visible on him.
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