on the soon to be "canon" bump

[spellblood.livejournal.com]

[Jacob knows all about musespace. Hell, technically he was born here. So, what has he made of this area? A flawless duplicate of the courtyard of The Academy of the Darker Arts. It's sunset, autumn, and he's taken a seat beside a fountain that looks like it hasn't been turned on since at least the summer before last. He's hunched over, head in his hands, still. Something is troubling him, that much is obvious.

But he does eventually look up, as do they all when they have something to say to the muser.]

Hey. ... I know you care, alright? I get it. Just stop putting it off. That could just... make it worse, I don't know. ... Hell, do you even know exactly what's happening? [Sigh.] Know what? Forget it. Do whatever.

[With a sigh, he stands. His little dragon is here, too, and she kicks off the stone she's perched on and lands on his outstretched arm. She chirps, as if trying to comfort him, and rubs her head against his shoulder.]

... Not your fault. All hers. As always.