No deal

[st_artandstoke]

Jag twirled a flame between his fingers as he stalked through the hotel corridor to the suite he shared with Emma. He should've known better than to expect much from the bloody Fae, but he'd had to get out of this place if he could, and once he was out there, he'd had to hear out that offer of a deal, no matter how he felt about the Fae. He fucking hated how much he'd hoped, too, for a few precious seconds. He still felt whiplash from that rollercoaster of emotions, and he didn't know what to do with himself.

So he was headed back to his room to roll up a joint, and he'd smoke it by the fireplace. It wasn't long before he was lying on his back in the common room, smoking up, a fire crackling wood beside him, and fuck if it was summer. In a flimsy tank top and a pair of swim shorts, he'd survive. He was used to being too hot in summer anyway.

He was never giving up his fire.

Comments

[st_artandstoke]

Yeah, acquiring the deck had been a good move. Jag couldn't help the small smile playing on his lips, from the animation in her. "I'm glad you like it," he said, smile stretching a little, because he couldn't help it. "What's air tend to stand for again?"

More rambling, please, was the gist of his question.

[st_ackeddeck]

"Air is the mind. Thoughts and words and communication. Messages. Logic. And anxiety and fear, since those are a type of overthinking." Emma bit at the corner of her lip, mostly keeping the self-deprecation off her soft smile. "Sabine's very Queen of Swords. I'm more cups, so for me, air or swords are usually how I protect myself from feeling too much or too strongly. Focus on the rational, head protecting heart. That kind of thing."

Both literal and symbolic fire, on the other hand, wasn't something she'd embodied much, or really had in her life. Until Pyro. Until Jag. "Then there's fire... passion and will and the spark of creativity. If air is an idea, fire is what puts it in motion. It ties back into the court cards too. Pages are messengers, air. Knights are the ones who go out and fight, action, fire. So the Knight of Wands is fire of fire."

[st_artandstoke]

An armed figured took shape in the fire, swinging a sword at the surrounding flames before disappearing back into them. Feathers and fire still sounded like a good match - or maybe not good, but appropriate, at least in his case. He was definitely glad he'd got the deck. "What about Queen and King?"

[st_ackeddeck]

"Queens nurture and nourish, and embody feminine intuition - water. And kings are the stand your ground, deeply rooted, 'I am a rock' types - earth." But the explanation came almost by rote, falling back on familiar patter as her focus, still on the Knight of Wands tried to go distant, even though she'd been working not to read anything in the cards yet.

"Is this the only deal you made?" she asked, hesitantly, as she tried to make sense of the quick glimpse of vision.

[st_artandstoke]

Jag looked down at his hands, a glance and he was meeting Emma's eyes again, with a small, self-conscious smile and a shrug. "Yeah. There was... Sometimes prices are too high?"

Which he should have expected, because bloody fairies.

[st_ackeddeck]

That she could believe. Most fairies would try to get the better of any mortals they dealt with. Regardless of what they were offering.

"Do I even want to ask?" Which was probably as much 'do you want to talk about it?' as recognizing the dangers in her curiosity.

[st_artandstoke]

Turned out Jag couldn't keep holding her gaze, in the end, and he wrapped his arms around a bent knee, turning to the fire. "This one wanker said they'd send me home in exchange for my fire."

He didn't know where the shame came from. From considering it, or from turning it down? His eyes burned, and he rubbed his fingers over them, swallowing back the tears building a lump in his throat.

[st_ackeddeck]

Home.

Emma hadn't even considered that the fae might be able to under whatever magic in the inn had brought and kept them here.

She scooted closer and wrapped her arm around his shoulders, wanting to ease the hurt whatever little bit she could. As much as she wanted Jag to be able to go home, not at the cost of his fire. She couldn't imagine losing his fire not breaking him even worse than being trapped here was doing.

It started her thinking, though. The fairy had made an offer, so they might be open to negotiations, a counteroffer, one that wouldn't be so devastating.

[st_artandstoke]

Jag leaned sideways against her, then gave in and turned to wrap himself around her more. With that brief flare of hope and the impossible choice that he'd been offered, he couldn't help but close his eyes and imagine that it was his Emma holding him. He craved the simplicity of her embrace, rather than the complications tangled in his friendship with this one.

[st_ackeddeck]

Emma held him, her thoughts mirroring his without her knowing. She didn't say anything; words wouldn't help here, not as much as simply being there. She sat there, curled around him, and made a decision.

If it was in her power to get Jag home, she would do it. Herself too, if possible, but definitely him, even though losing him would hurt, especially if she remained stuck at the inn.