[Jacob exhales a rueful sigh. Eagle vision is useful, but it isn’t infallible—he ought to know. He’d seen Attaway as green, until he found out her true allegiances. Roth, too.]
They do, but—it’s not hard for the wrong people to slip through anyway. It depends on the intent, I suppose you could say. [If that sounds like an inexact way of putting it, yeah, Jacob has never tried to explain the eagle’s gift to anyone else before.] You just—know what people’s hurts are, right? So you’d know what they’re like already, a bit.
For myself—I can see if they mean me or my people any harm, and not much else beyond that. And an enemy can slip past that, if they don’t want to hurt me at that moment.
[And then blindside him with just how far they’re willing to go for their vendettas, how low they’re willing to sink. Then, and only then, would it shade into red—after the betrayal, after all that’s left to do is the work of an Assassin.
He cannot forget that pain. Or any other pains. Call him a masochist, but pain is a part of living—take that away, the happiness rings hollow. So he shakes his head.]
I’d prefer not to forget. Easier to learn from your mistakes if you remember them and their fallout. [He likes this kid, and all, but…the thought of letting him rip out even the painful memories makes Jacob’s skin crawl.
Pivoting away from the bit about memories:] The broken sky? This I have to hear about. What could possibly break the bloody sky?
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They do, but—it’s not hard for the wrong people to slip through anyway. It depends on the intent, I suppose you could say. [If that sounds like an inexact way of putting it, yeah, Jacob has never tried to explain the eagle’s gift to anyone else before.] You just—know what people’s hurts are, right? So you’d know what they’re like already, a bit.
For myself—I can see if they mean me or my people any harm, and not much else beyond that. And an enemy can slip past that, if they don’t want to hurt me at that moment.
[And then blindside him with just how far they’re willing to go for their vendettas, how low they’re willing to sink. Then, and only then, would it shade into red—after the betrayal, after all that’s left to do is the work of an Assassin.
He cannot forget that pain. Or any other pains. Call him a masochist, but pain is a part of living—take that away, the happiness rings hollow. So he shakes his head.]
I’d prefer not to forget. Easier to learn from your mistakes if you remember them and their fallout. [He likes this kid, and all, but…the thought of letting him rip out even the painful memories makes Jacob’s skin crawl.
Pivoting away from the bit about memories:] The broken sky? This I have to hear about. What could possibly break the bloody sky?