[ When the fires seem to all have been put out, when people's attentions seemed to turn from averting any number of crises to clean up, Jack takes a few minutes to gingerly lower himself into a seat next to one of the streetlamps remaining standing and relatively undamaged. He has expended a lot of energy over the last 24 hours, finding inventive ways for ice to beat out fire and he'd be proud of himself for that if he could keep his eyes reliably open.
Moving along with everyone else to pull through the rubble to get anyone trapped inside the collapsed buildings, sparing a few sharp raps upside the head for those trying to loot, though they were not his focus. He's smudged with ash, dirt and debris, and there are burns on his hands and bare feet. Yet the sharp eyed ones may catch patches of ugly purple bruising visible on his extremities underneath the layer of mud and grit, darkening almost to black at the tips of his fingers, colouring the thin tissue along his eyelids, the corners of his mouth, speckling pale cheeks like unwelcome freckles. The spirit had held nothing in reserve in the face of rescuing those who'd needed it, and now had no cold left to preserve himself.
Jack pulls his hood up over his head to block the sun from warming the back of his neck, knowing he needed to get somewhere cool -- ideally back to the freezer -- as soon as possible. But he'd be all right if he just took a moment to gather himself, he could spare a few more minutes to make sure no one else needed aid, Jack thought, and promptly passed out. ]
OPEN! cw: descriptions of bruising/lividity?
Moving along with everyone else to pull through the rubble to get anyone trapped inside the collapsed buildings, sparing a few sharp raps upside the head for those trying to loot, though they were not his focus. He's smudged with ash, dirt and debris, and there are burns on his hands and bare feet. Yet the sharp eyed ones may catch patches of ugly purple bruising visible on his extremities underneath the layer of mud and grit, darkening almost to black at the tips of his fingers, colouring the thin tissue along his eyelids, the corners of his mouth, speckling pale cheeks like unwelcome freckles. The spirit had held nothing in reserve in the face of rescuing those who'd needed it, and now had no cold left to preserve himself.
Jack pulls his hood up over his head to block the sun from warming the back of his neck, knowing he needed to get somewhere cool -- ideally back to the freezer -- as soon as possible. But he'd be all right if he just took a moment to gather himself, he could spare a few more minutes to make sure no one else needed aid, Jack thought, and promptly passed out. ]