For Everything There Is A Season

[Jacky]

I wake up when a raindrop splashes right onto my nose though. I snap my eyes open and look up to the sky, where there's.. roof. A leaking roof. I locate myself in Ana's shack and I sit up, looking around.
I spot Ana soon enough. It's sorta dark by now, but her silouette moves swiftly from one end of the room to another where she puts down a pot to keep the floor from getting wet. Soon the room gets illimunated slightly as a cloud disappears from in front of the moon, sending rays of light through the only window the house has.
She didn't notice me waking, and for a long instant I watch her. I just watch her as she moves around - her clothes now doing little to disguise her feminine forms due to their wetness. Her hair has come lose from her braid and seems more unruly than ever.
I force myself to snap out of this before she'd realize my observations (and would therefore probably kick me out).
Instead I get outta the bed, making my state of conciousness known to her. The bed's one of the most dry places, she tactfully chose it's location. "Dye need help with tha'?" I speak up.

[Hannah]

My head snaps up when I hear him. "Uh.." I look around at the mass of pots and stuff that is standing on the floor to make sure it won't get too wet. ".. yes." I nod then and continue before it gets even worse

[Jacky]

I help her out with trying to capture all the water that comes in from the leaks, and I put a plank against the hole in the window. Eventually we did a fairly good job in making sure we won't drown here tonight. The stove is still burning slightly, and I shove some of the wood in the corner of the shack that was still dry into it to heat up the place a little. A glance towards Ana tells me that she must be freezing by now. We're both wet, but she's wearing considerably less than myself.

[Hannah]

I shiver a bit, being cold indeed, but I don't have any clean shirts anymore so I kinda don't knwo what to do now..
I look around and bite on my lip, making sure not to look at Jack.

[Jacky]

I was wearing my long coat all along, so my shirt stayed considerably dry.. safe for the front where the coat didn't cover it. I hesitate, looking over to Ana. She's sure as hell gonna be sick this way.
Since when do I care?
I don't, of course.

Nonetheless, I shake of my coat and dump it aside, and I draw my shirt off over my head. I chuck it over to Ana who catches it just in time. "Put that on, I don't wanna sleep next to someone who's gonna be coughin' in me ear all the time." I make up an excuse for this act of generosity.

[Hannah]

I watch his chest for a moment before I blink "Thanks.." I mumble and look at the shirt in my hands.
I look at him and raise an eyebrow. "... turn around"

[Jacky]

I roll my eyes but turn around, crossing my arms over my chest as I wait for her to be done. This is the first time that Ana sees me back bare. It is, in fact, a contrast with all the boyish innuedos and teasing that I often let into..
With no hint of the usual innocence of a seventeen-year-old, it's fairly muscular surface is a pattern of scars and tattoos. On my right shoulderblade a ink-black Jolly Roger is grinning grimly. There's a sentence under it, curved slightly around the picture, saying: 'vita incerta, mors certissima'.
Below the tattoo the skin is roughened, showing stripes that are pale in comparison to the otherwise tan colour of my skin. The remains of whiplashes, from left to right, crossing eachother in indifferent ways. Some have basically faded, others look more recent still..

[Hannah]

I quickly turn around aswell when he does so and change the shirts, when I am done, I turn around and tild my head to the side when I see his back. ".." I am speachless for a moment but then finally speak up. "What does it say?" I ask him curiously and walk over to him, running my hand over one of the skary, looking at the tattoo.

[Jacky]

I feel a bolt run down my spine when she suddenly touches my skin like that, but I straighten my back to ignore it. Vita incerta, mors certissima, the words are printed in my mind. I don't turn around to face her as I answer, letting her run her fingers along the lenght of one of the scars. "Life's not certain. Death is."
I still don't turn. Maybe it's better not to face her now. I'm not ashamed of my scars, but neither are they something to be proud of. My thoughts about them are simple: they're stories from the past and they're oughta stay in the past.

[Hannah]

I let my finger run down the next scary, very slowly, barely touching his skin. The scares fascinate me somehow.. I didn't expect him to have any like these for sure.
"Intresting.." I mumble, stepping a bit closer now.