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Seeing the pink light ahead stops him in his tracks, and with him the Moonshiner stirs.
He was only taking a look around the area—it had taken a while for him(them?) to unlock the gate and his body was starting to wear down. This doesn’t mean that Jake wanted to take a break, but he believes the nilentity now tied to him would say otherwise. It makes him uncomfortable, in some odd, distant way how much it cares as if they knew eachother, but he knows that it protects him so he stays quiet.
Be careful. It whispers in his ear and thinks in his mind. That is not who you think it is. (He knows. He knows.)
He’s learnt that if he wants something the Moonshiner cannot interject. Or perhaps won’t. He doesn’t know how deep the strings bind them together, but so far they haven’t done anything noteworthy aside from gently (metaphorically)push him toward a certain area or a solution. In time, he might learn. Not today—and he has to mention, the concept of today, because he knows that’s not how it works in this place—and not for a while longer.
He marches and sits down on the bench where that familiar figure sits. He’s only seen it once in that video, but he has it ingrained in his head. A far-away part of himself never left those months nor that hospital room. Another piece of him that he has forced himself to leave behind.
“Just let me have this. I’m aware.” He hisses toward the thing in his head before turning to the other.
If asked to describe it, he’d say Rebecca’s flame of her nilform looks like a controlled wildfire. He knows that it’s contradictory; but nothing else can describe it in the same manner. Now that he’s really looking, the twin flames sprouting from the middle top of her torso vaguely follow the concept of two wings, reaching just below the gap between the seat and the back.
She doesn’t hesitate in turning to him in return, eyeing him up even without an actual face.
“You look like you’ve been through hell.” Rebecca—no, he shouldn’t call this disguise that. He’s well aware this is another one of that thing’s tricks to get him to give. Giving it her name would be insulting to her. Her snorts at his current dilemma echo in his head. Would Rebecca instantly recognize him if she ever found him like this, the way it does right now?
He hums. If he knew less, he’d question why he came up to this disguise and bother speaking to it.
He’s already getting sentimental and it’s barely the beginning of the journey. He can’t feel anything coming from Moonshiner and he briefly considers the thought of them already giving up on telling him off on his less-than intelligent decision-making.
“I know you’re just making a pit stop before continuing,” The other figure speaks up again, lifting up both her hands palms facing him. “So why not make it an actual rest? You won’t get a chance like this again.”
Jake shifts in thought. She hovers her hands towards his fur but a hiss is more than enough to get her to back off. Her hands lay in her lap, waiting. “I know you don’t typically do this—” Never, he wants to interject. “—but it’s good for you, and you’re… Not clean, to put it kindly.” Scratching at the back of his neck reveals—oh, yeah, that’s pretty bad huh.
He doesn’t hiss this time when her hands come up near his neck, but he still bristles. It’d be so easy for her to bring her hands around his neck and squeeze, if he can even die here. What could the Moonshiner do against a physical threat that’s stronger than him?
Instead, she just… slowly begins running her hands down the fur surrounding it, scratching and pulling with her fingers. She clearly does not know what she’s doing.
“You can’t clean anything if you’re dry.”
She glances towards the body of water a few feet from them. Normally, he’d say to just use spit, but…
The water in his fur, not to mention the drops falling into his jacket, create an odd feeling for him. She guides him to lower his shoulders (since when were they so tense?) while combing through the lower parts.
He’s only just noticed that neither of them have any actual fingernails when she’s holding up one arm closer to her to get to the grit. He did ask her if she wanted to move closer to the water, but all she did was reassure him that she was fine like this and that he needs the comfortable seat. The bench isn’t comfortable in the slightest.
The fingers combing through his fur aren't soothing yet he still untenses, the flame coming from the other being doing nothing for his permanent shivering state. She makes an off-handed comment about his back not moving from its’ perfectly straight state that he ignores, focusing on how the wet fingers press against each strand.
Even if he still believes it does nothing for him, he does feel different after she finishes (after looking through each individual hair several times, he notes. She's stalling.) her… thing. He knows what it is but he would rather not say it into existence.
Once he stands up, shaking the drops of water still lingering on him, her wings puff out.
“Leaving so soon?”
When Jake makes no effort to reply, she just crosses her legs—propping up her hands together as to signify that if she had a head she would be resting it on her hand right now—and waves with her free hand. He turns toward the lake again and does not look back to her. He knows she's already gone. Did that thing have fun toying with him?
Just keep going. He doesn't know if that's the Moonshiner's thought process or his own anymore.
There are people waiting for him.