Twisting Paths of the Dungeon, Somewhere, Thursday

[makemyownway.livejournal.com]

The pathways of the dungeon had changed overnight. Anyone who had stayed in a room beyond their welcome had found themselves booted out back onto the hallways that belonged to their camp and feeling pressed down by the sudden increase in gravity. The doors of yesterday had closed. Other doors had now opened.

And other routes.

[ pathways | gremlins | space battles | room of the past | flooded room | free space | strange vault | ooc NOTE: room doors not belonging to your camp will lock when you enter. so please designate whether you're from camp 1 or the joint camp 2/ camp 3 ]

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Re: An Aged Door

[bitten_notshy]

Jack must have lost Kaidan somehow. He glanced out over the plain, vainly searching for a door. A salty breeze stung his eyes as the light shifted, coalescing into a dim gas-lit office that seemed to have been elegantly decorated sometime around 1850 and left to fester for the 40 years since.

Jack didn't know why the very sight of the place had him nauseated until he saw the tall, fat, blond-haired vampire leaning on an empty corner of the desk. To be fair, he'd been much shorter the last time he saw it. Jaromir looked straight through Jack as he continued his conversation with a ragged woman. //He doesn't look five,// he said. //Promise you aren't just saying he's old enough to work to get rid of him?//

And then Jack knew exactly what he was seeing and wished very much he was anyplace else in the world.

//He is, he is,// the woman -- Jack's mother -- protested, and jabbed the little boy leaning against her legs in the back to encourage him to stand up straighter. Not that it made much difference, this child still could have passed for a slight three. //Next week he's five exactly. Look at the papers.//

Still sneering, Jaromir thumbed through a sheaf of parchment in his hand. //You're Jews,// he noted, and glanced over the boy. (The adult Jack's skin felt hot and tight.) //I wouldn't have known, so that's not a problem. Is his father living?//

//His father only comes home when the weather is bad and the bars all kick him out,// Jack's mother said bluntly. //If he were dead I'd at least have the money from selling his clothes.//

Jaromir huffed out a laugh. //And the boy himself -- is he smart? Well-behaved? A hard worker? I don't take child servants for charity, Pani Vrazda.//

//He's a good boy,// the woman answered, hands clenched on the shoulder of her son's thin jacket. //Bright as a penny. His sisters made a pet of him and he can be willful, but a good thump on the ear and he remembers he knows how to work.//

//Does he,// Jaromir said flatly, and leaned forward to talk to the boy. From 16 years and more away, Jack remembered his reek of damp wool and old blood. //Ready to earn your keep, little one?//

And, to Jack's horror, his child-self nodded. Nodded proudly, even, pleased to be a man and worth something. Jaromir pulled back but kept his eyes on the child -- as if I were good enough to eat, the grown Jack thought.

//My secretary has the money,// he said. // Argue about the rate and I won't take him on.//

Pani Vrazda shook her head. //He gets to eat and a warm place to sleep, and the rest of us will live through the winter because you have him,// she said, //What's a few kreuzen next to that?//

She hesitated before hugging Jan, patted his head instead. //You're grown now,// she said. //Work hard and mind your masters.//

And with that she was gone -- if there had been any further endearment, Jack didn't remember it. He turned away before he could see anything more; he knew what happened next.

He glanced about, hoping no one had witnessed his reverie.

[OOC: Open to Camp 1.]