Summary: A set of drabbles centered around the lives of Jak, Daxter, Keira, and Samos. Pre-TPL setting. Possible pairings may vary.
DISCLAIMER: Jak and Daxter belongs to Naughty Dog as well as its characters. I own nothing.
Green
The greatest part about Sandover was that on exquisitely colorless days in which the clouds of Rock Village migrated to the neighboring villages, nobody really paid any attention to anything. Not that they would, anyway; the Sculptor performed an artistic melodrama to his muse every afternoon, the Mayor paced over trivial things, the Fisherman cackled and contaminated the air with his radioactive stench, and the Bird Lady cooed over birds.
And Daxter knew this- that each and every one of the villager rarely ever acknowledged his presence- and he took advantage of this. He was the only child in the entire village, and it got lonely most of the time without a single playful soul willing to listen to his sarcastic jokes and exaggerated stories. The only exciting thing to do, really, was to curb the boredom of a reckless "adventurer" by tipping a group of yakows or venturing out to the edge of the Forbidden Jungle. No wonder the villagers called him a nuisance.
Yet on this particular day, Daxter was not feeling up to recklessly adventuring or annoying the locals. He wasn't up to kicking the sand at Sentinel Beach or napping the in Fisherman's boat. Today, Daxter was feeling rather upset, his long ears drooping down to his shoulders with a pang in his stomach and reeked of gloom. It wasn't like him to be so down, nor did he understand it.
Maybe it was because the sky did not match his colorful, warm hair. Maybe it was because he was still pissed that his mother and father left him to explore the exotic structure of Precursor architecture in Rock Village, yet they never returned. Yes. That had to be the problem.
With the villagers at work to protect themselves from the incoming storm, Daxter shuffled past the beach and the village and made his way towards the trial of rocks that led to the Forbidden Jungle. He'd never been to the jungle before, as he had been told to stay far away from the eerie place, but if he was going to be upset what better place to go to than a creepy old jungle to scare him out of his skin? It seemed like a perfectly reasonable option, despite being scared out of his wits to even go near the place.
Yet anger and curiousity transcended over his fear, and Daxter continued. The young boy treaded over the soft green grass that tickled his feet and the warm sand that slid between the nooks of his toes, off to his supposed doom. Daxter wasn't one to enjoy the solitude, but this was the only exception. He snuck past the Farmer, uttering something incomprehensible in his sleep, and climbed onto one ledge after another that led to the entrance of the Forbidden Jungle. He knew this was a bad idea, but frankly, he didn't care. If his parents wanted to look at some old Precursor crap, why didn't they go take a short trip over to the jungle to scope out the place?
Daxter had seen painting of the jungle that the Sculptor and put on display, but never had he stood before the rickety bridge that hung over the waterfall below. The trees covered thick with vines and a blanket of ivy, Lurker snakes hanging from above searching for any vulnerable snacks. The stream was even worse, abundant with poisonous piranhas that most likely thirsted for his blood, and the massive shaved logs that could shank him to the other side of the island if he wasn't careful. Daxter gulped, stepping cautiously over to the next plank, get flinched when the bridge began to rock. The latter took in a shaky breath, taking another step forward, yet the plank fell from under him, and he yelped as he foot lay hanging above the gap of sand. He couldn't do it. It was too frightening to venture over there, let alone walk over an unstable bridge where he could possible fall to his death only to be devoured by piranhas.
Daxter gripped onto the rope railing for support so hard his knuckles turned white, the shaking of his knees causing the bridge to rock even more, and he squeezed his eyes shut in shame. Moving his hand downward, still gripping onto the rope, he slowly slid down until he was at a crouching position, letting his legs fall loosely over the bridge gap once he knew he was secure. Then again, secure was an understatement of all understatements.
Then, with a quivering lip, he began to cry. He began to cry so violently that the bridge began to shake again and he couldn't even tell what was rain and what were his own tears. He didn't know why he was crying- if it was because of grief or fear or even a mixture of both. The latter just sat and cried until his cries turning into hiccups and the saltiness of his tears began to sting his eyes.
"Get ahold of yourself, Daxter," he told himself, mopping away the tears with the sleeve of his tunic. "Ya can't be an adventurer if yer cryin' all the damn dirty time. Yer a wimp if ya can't handle a simple Lurker fish or a couple 'a spikes. Now get up and be a man."
But he didn't get up. He remained glued to the bridge and let the rain cascade down his face and soak his clothes to the last drop. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that today wasn't the kind of gloomy day to grow a pair and go out adventuring to elude his personal problems. That, and that he was for certain that he detested the color green for that simple fact.
(A/N) I tried to write a drabble and this happened. I don't even know I'm what I'm trying to do here but oh well now I have a new headcanon as to why Daxter is opposed to Samos (if he really even is). Jak will probably be next as far as drabbles go in this little series. Hope you enjoyed! ^^ -V