Jaques

Prologue

Lewdon doesn't really remember Before.

He remembers back when there were colors. Back when there was music and parties and people to wait on him hand and foot. He doesn't remember thinking that was unusual, or different, because he doesn't remember people who weren't like him. Commoners weren't exactly a part of the daily life of a six-year-old, after all. He remembers some terrifying blue Thing stealing him away from his friends and his home but mostly all his toys, and dumping him here on this Faranth-forsaken rock. The Thing haunts his nightmares for turns afterward, rising up out of seas that boil around it, devouring the camp and everything they've tried to create there: the pale imitations of Life as it was.

Lewdon grows up and Lewdon gets married, but things--they don't really get better. Someday when his parents are old and dead, he finds himself in charge of the little island, and the despair of it all makes him want to throw himself into the sea to meet the dragons. He's a superstitious sort, and he encourages the islanders to thank the sea. He's never quite sure what's real, what's not. Are the dragons there watching, in the sea, overhead, waiting to destroy his home again?

Lewdon isn't sure anymore. He remembers softness, and warmth. He remembers his mother telling him they'll have their revenge. The Blood always do. He remembers that, but all he knows is the Island.

Description

It's something in his mouth, wide with cupid's-bow lips always faintly quirked, that makes any expression of Jaques into a smirk, as though he knows some secret something: a look matched in intelligent, dark eyes. He's handsome enough but not particularly remarkable otherwise: his nose is straight, his skin tanned and jaw stubbled, wavy brown hair kept short and swept to the side.

He's of thoroughly average height and a compact build, not plagued by the gawky lankness that afflicts many his age. It gives Jaques something of a sartorial edge, or as much of one as the exiles can muster. Though his clothes are still old and stillhand-me-downs, they're somewhat better quality than most of what the exiles have, and he wears them well.

Background

Jaques is the son of the exiles' leader Cason, with three older sisters and one younger brother. This makes him Tomaeran's first cousin, and of course related to pretty much all the other Bloods on the island thanks to that whole inbred thing they're starting to have going on. This also means that he's the obvious choice for heir, not that you'd know it. By all accounts, he's a quiet, withdrawn sort who leaves the day-to-day runnings of things to his father and his younger brother, who's more than eager to prove himself the superior of the two boys.

When he was seventeen, Jaques was married off to a girl a couple of turns younger than he was. While he and Evie are not closely related, they were close friends growing up, especially once her parents were killed in the Pass and Jaques' parents half-adopted her. That relationship, plus their young ages, has made the marriage more just awkward than unhappy, as both try to live up to what they're expected but fail in ways they don't even really understand. They're more strangers than friends these days.

Jaques mostly seems embarrassed by the prestige his bloodline gains him. He works hard but never too hard. He learns his lessons well, but never too well. He's friendly but... well, you get the drift. He's thoroughly mediocre in pretty much all respects, and some figure if he had his way his whole lineage would just be forgotten. It earns him the condemnation of a certain breed of Blood, who think he's slumming it and disgracing his ancestors--and the ire of a certain breed of commoner, who thinks he's slumming it and making a mockery of their genuine effort.

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