The Outlanders

All of This, For What?

JACKIE

Sometimes I wish Lane would just shut up. There are times when his mouth would run, and it'd be the best thing in the world, but there are also days, and instances, when he should really learn to just keep his words to himself. Noriel had done a spectacular job keeping the interrogation between Outlanders and Unwanted short and sweet. At least until Lane brought up the fact that I'm actually Cirris, and that we're not from Laethora, but another place called Earth, which has of course, unsurprisingly lead to the extension of the conversation, as if the ride from where we were, all the way to the obelisk wasn't long enough. Beyond the caravan, are rhinos who's horns extend far longer than the length of an ordinary one's, and these rhinos are used as mounts by other Unwanted scouts, although the individual who seems to be their leader, at least by the way he's the one doing all the talking, chose to sit inside with us. His look is completely rugged, but somehow he doesn't smell as bad as how I imagine someone stuck in the Underhell for years would. Mars, Sezarina, and Noriel, have gone quiet, all the while this guy is asking all the questions, when this entire time, the only thing I've wanted to know is what his name is. If anything, he's asked about a hundred, and we haven't had our chance to retaliate. There doesn't seem to be an end in sight.

So I take the initiative to put their conversation on a momentary halt. "Sorry, we didn't even catch your name." He blinks my way, and my entire body tenses up. "I'm just curious, you've... you've asked us so many questions, I thought it's only fair that we get to ask one from you."

"Jett." He responds, his voice aged, but battle-hardened, seeming like the kind of individual you would always want on your side. "People 'round here call me Jett. It's not my real name, but having lived here for years, you start to lose your identity." It takes longer sentences for me to figure out that he has this near-southern drawl when he speaks.

"That must be horrible." I tell him, soon after I dig into the crevices of my own mind. It's a struggle that I've been dealing with since arriving in this world, but having to deal with it for years on end? It must be difficult. More than what I have to go through currently. Jett doesn't display sadness in his green irises, only a hunger to survive. He's told us that the reason for attacking us --and the caravan-- is because Harv's Goods is one of many Ghoullarian trade wagons that scatter the entirety of the Underhell, selling medicinal and gastronomical goods. To them, terrorizing these caravans is of strict necessity in order to live the hellish wasteland.

"For the first few months, sure." There's a slight shrug made by his shoulders. "Eventually, life just becomes about surviving. Doesn't matter who you are, what matters is that you breathe. That your people are fed." The male rummages through the lower end of the shelves, fishing out a sizable cigar, wedging it between tiers of his teeth. He strips one of the labels off of the jars, and swipes it across the wooden wall, immediately causing a spark. The flame is pressed on one end of the cigar, and he takes two solid puffs from it. Everyone simply watches him work. When he finishes, he stops and leans on the door frame, fully expecting more questions to come his way.

"How long have you been down here?" The second to speak up is Noriel, I expected his curiosity to get the better of him, despite the fact that he preferred to stay quiet most times.

Jett inhales more of the smoke, nearly burning through half the cigar in on go. It doesn't smell like anything anyone smoked back home, it doesn't reek of tobacco, instead smells of an orchestra of herbs. Minty, yet still bold. "Nearly thirty years." He pulls the stick from his mouth, inspecting it a few times before propping it back. "I was a child when Kohrladin recruited me."

"You're Kohrlannian?" Sezarina asks, her voice gone hoarse and weak, and even further evidenced by the pale color she's taken on. Lane takes notice of it, side-eyeing her from across the quarter. I'm unable to focus on it for too long, since Jett begins to reveal more history.