Wings Upon The Rook

Drinks & Rooks

London ran cold as night took over; the harsh labour of factories breaking the back of helpless children was still caught in the city's grasp. A revolution that changed the lives of everyday people but at what cost? The cost of lungs filled with pollution coming from the hands of children holding onto the thin thread of life. The cost of health as people line up to treat their wounds. The cost of a mothers tears sending their child into a death trap/ Underneath the bright ideas springing from brains of hope and the shine of polishes metal, comes the fumes from flames that burns the poor that come too close yet kills them of starvation when too far. The poor look up for hope yet the rich look down at the stacks of cash.

Jacob could no longer stare at his home that was covered in dirty, blood, swear and tears of those who fell under the hand of poverty. While he was on a mission, very little of poverty. While he was on a mission, very little was on his mind, looking and good and reachingh his goal was at the top of priorities. Outside of his work, a long trip to a pub was mandatory. How else could he forget the poor souls fighting for their lives against the flames of factories. Evie had tries to be the voice of reasons, a comforter, though he knew she felt the same wight of guilt hanging on her shoulders.

"I want to change London, I want to bring hope to her people." Jacob stared at the ceiling leaning back on a chair with a glass in hand.

"Once Starrick is out of control, I assure you, London will be brighter." Evie hesitantly placed her hand on her brothers shoulder, "But until then, we need to keep moving. Drinks won't fix anything."

"So what happens to the people? They pushed 'bout like sheep by the Blighters with no means of fighting back. You know that they couldn't care less about anyone but themselves and their bosses filled with cash. Brutes need to be taken down. If I can do something to stop them then you know damn well I will." Jacob stood and finished his drink with a slam on the table. Evie only sighed in defeat and joined him by his side. She felt worse knowing that he was right. Everything their father had trained to do meant to not let emotions compromise missions. But, damn her, he was actually right, for once.

-

Jacob cracked his head in thought for taking down the Blighters. He knew that he couldn't taken them all down by himself, no matter how good he was at fighting. That's it! He didn't need to do it by himself! He can make his own gang! Who better to join and be trained than the people of London? That way they can fight for themselves as well as help him along the way. Evie scoffed at the idea, of course she did. Being the sensible one meant no fun for him. But Jacob was ready to convince!

"The Rooks!" He exclaimed, what better name than-

"You're soul mark? Really?" Evie scrunched her nose at the idea/

He only scowled at her, obviously it was a great name. It was, in fact, his soul mark. The rook chess piece was placed upon his upper left arm, just below the shoulders. Though just to the left rested the bird with the same name. It warmed him to know a soft and sweet bird would hold onto a piece of such power. To Jacob it felt like a contrast between strength, emotionally and physically, as well as safety and peace. Perhaps his soulmate would try to find him once she hears of the gang, or he hears, either is fine; he's into both.

-

"Join me! Join the Rooks!" Jacob said with a fist in the air, a triumphant feeling took hold of him as he saw the people change uniform or cheer in agreement. He didn't forget to send Evie a smirk to show off.

-

More people joined everyday as Blighters fell. Sick men who gained coins from poor children were down without hesitation. This didn't go on without an affect on the public. The name spread with each area they hit and Jacob's Rooks grew. He should be happy, celebrating with his mates but Evie would have to upset him.

"I've been killing Starricks henchmen, what have you been doing?" Jacob pretended to look deep in thought, "Let's ask Henry shall we?"

Evie huffed, did he really need to mention him, "I've been cleaning up your mistakes! 'Too much haste is too little speed.'"

A growl escaped from his lips, "Don't you quote father at me..."

"That's Plato... And I'm sorry that this isn't something you can destroy! Father was right, he never approved of your methods!"

"Father is dead!" That was enough, he had enough, the constant mention of his father as well as never having true peace (even in good times) from his sister drove him mad.

It was time to plan for their next mission so he had no time to grieve on their argument, "I need a strong drink..."