Cold Blows the Wind

[Skraal]

((Jacob Lang continued from Ocean Man))

The sun had completed its descent beyond the horizon by the time Jacob came to a stop by particularly ominous looking dead tree. Maybe it had been struck by lightning or something - it definitely looked like something had messed it up a while back. Maybe there was some interesting story behind it, but at the moment, Jacob wasn't really much in the mood for speculating on it. His lungs burned as he took a seat by its blackened trunk, leaning back and looking up into the darkened sky.

"Fuck."

He brought a hand to his mouth, chewing nervously on a thumbnail as his mind returned to the image of his blade sticking out of Spike's chest. That... was not how he had wanted things to go. The knife was just supposed to keep them from touching him, a sharp metal approximation of whatever authority figure's name he would usually invoke when things started to get physical. Alright, maybe he had pulled it out a little too early, but, like, what was he supposed to do, not show off his cool new toy? How could he have known it would shoot out so easily, or that someone would jump out an startle him like that?

A sigh forced its way out of his mouth as his hand dropped limply to the ground. Whatever excuse he could pull out right now, the fact remained that the one damn person in this class who was actually willing to trust him with no questions asked was likely lying dead on that beach right now, and it was his weapon that did it. He knew how this was going to go, as soon as that announcement came out tomorrow morning everyone would know what he had done, and they'd probably have even more of a reason to kill him than they would have had already. He was screwed.

Jacob slipped the empty knife handle out of his pocket, turning it over in his hands. Without the blade, it was basically a paperweight. You'd think that something like this would come with refills, like blades for a razor, but no, they had only given him one shot. What a joke. One kill in, and he was defenceless. Maybe he could, like, hit someone over the head with it, but at that point he might as well just use a rock. Unless...

He scrambled to his feet, shoving the handle back where it had come from. Knife blades didn't just disappear when they hit someone... maybe it was still back there. The other two had probably already left by now, and given how chaotic things had been over there, there was a good chance that it had been left behind. He had to move quick though, even if they hadn't taken it, there was a good chance someone else might pass by, and if they saw him over at the scene of the crime, well... to say it would go badly was a bit of an understatement.

Forcing himself to ignore his aching muscles, Jacob began to trudge back in the direction from which he came, doing his best to keep his mind away from the disquieting realization that he had been much more worried about the potential consequences for his actions than he had been guilty about actually fucking killing somebody.

((Jacob Lang continued in Buckingham Green))