Eeeeeeee! I'm so pleased with all the reviews I got! I apologize profusely for not updating in, like 4 months…but I had finals and then my high school took a trip up to the mountains, which was a blast, by the way.
Jak: I'm not sure I actually fit in that duffel bag of yours…you couldn't have smuggled me onto the bus instead?
Suta:Nonsense…:continues drawing Jak as chibi:
Jak:WHY do you draw me like that? That's not even what I look like!
Suta:Eh, it's for the fans…they say you're adorable like this
Jak:I hate fangirls
Suta:But not me, right?
Jak:I suppose :looks other way quickly:
Suta:locks Jak in closet: Anyways…I'll let you all be and read chapter three…aaaand, oh! I almost forgot…go check out my profile and click on the link to Deviantart(dot)com…it'll take you straight to my deviously deviant homepage and you can see my perty pictures –bounces about in overly hyper mood-
Jak:bangs on door…door falls off hinges:
Suta:Erm…I love you? Uhhh, very much…:shrinks:
Jak:rants about in rage:
Suta:OH! Yeah…almost forgot again…I got a review asking how you pronounce Smoake's name, well here ya go….Smo-wuk (the "o" is long, by the way)….Now I must go calm The Beast…. :attempts to subdue Jak:
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A soft light coaxed the sleeping blonde into consiousness and he slowly opened his eyes. He raised his head and looked down his front to see Smoake yawning and stretching on his chest, right next to the sleeping pile of orange fur.
Pushing Daxter off of him gently, he staggered out of bed. Smoake leapt to the floor and stared up at him as he made his way across the room, cold tile piercing his bare feet, and stood in front of the mirror, jaw awry as he surveyed his rather disheveled appearance.
His usually wind-blown hair stood up on odd places and clumps fell down into his eyes, the effect making him appear to be like a big golden crocadog puppy. His goggles had slipped from their usual perch around his forehead to hanging loosely around his neck.
His face showed the years of abuse that he had acquired while in the Haven City Prison, courtesy of Erol and Baron Praxis; this gave the impression that he was a golden crocadog puppy that had been kicked too many times. Cheeks and nose, rosy from the cold, contrasted with his sharpish features.
Yawning, he turned, nearly tripped over Smoake, and headed to the corner so he could slip on his mech shirt and begin layering his armor back on.
Smoake watched interestedly, his tail slowly twisting this way and that, like a must ready to pounce.
Daxter sat up on the bed, grabbed Jak's arm and scuttled up it as Jak passed the bed to slip through the door quietly, Smoake close at his metal heels.
Torn was asleep over his paper-filled desk, a small piece of green paper fluttered every time he exhaled.
Jak slipped out the door and into the foggy street. The fog would prevent anyone from catching a good look at Smoake for a good couple of hours, so Jak let him romp about his feet silently.
Hopping onto his jetboard, Jak let himself balance on the hovering metal board and stretch, his back arched in the cold air and stretched certain muscles in a way that woke him up. Leaning over, Jak caught Smoake by the tail and dragged him backwards so he could pick him 'round the belly.
Daxter, who didn't usually have anything to say until he was fully awake, grinned at this. A biting wind began to whip through his fur and chill him to the marrow as they gained speed.
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Jak let his weight fall backwards slightly and slowed his jetboard down to a crawl as he inhaled the scent of Haven Forest. Hopping off the machine, he tucked it behind his back as Smoake crouched, preparing to spring into the air. He flapped his wings awkwardly, sliding off Jak's shoulder sideways and batting his long ears in the process; but finally taking off into a clumsy flight to the nearest and lowest tree branch.
"Where're you gonna keep him?" Daxter hopped off Jak's shoulder-plate and walked a few steps off to the right, his ottsel feet crunching the near-frozen grass. He placed his paws on his hips and looked up at his best friend.
"He's gonna have to stay here, I suppose," Jak looked up at Smoake, who was attempting, and failing miserably, to pounce upon a bird, which hopped out of his way at the last possible second each time he pounced.
With a frustrated growl, Smoake finally caught the bird in a puff of agitated feathers.
Daxter grimaced, "Looks like he won't have any problem with food."
"Yeah," Jak answered absent-mindedly, he was staring intently at a vine that grew up and twisted itself around a tree to his left. The stalk of the plant was a lightning blue and the way it wrapped itself up the tree made it look as if the tree were alive with pulsing, blue veins. Small, black flowers bloomed here and there on the vine, like cups of death that held the plant's very existence.
"Jak? Hello?" Daxter jumped up Jak's arm, onto his shoulder and rapped on his friend's head sharply, "Anybody home? Haven City Forest to Jak!"
"Ouch, I'm here, I'm here…" Jak pulled his head away from Daxter's knocking knuckles and pretended to not be spacing out. Pretended to not be lost in his own mind; pretended that he wasn't brooding on dark thoughts; pretended to not be scared of what the future held; pretended to not be afraid that the next mission would be his last, that each passing second wasn't something he had to struggle through.
Up above, Smoake glanced down and watched them, his tail hanging loosely over the branch.
"No, you're not," Daxter stated plainly as he stared into his friend's deep, oceanic eyes, "Jak? Come on buddy, what's up? It's just me, Daxter…remember? Remember the one who you told everything about? The one who you blabbered on about this and that, the cool bird you saw, how cute you thought Kiera was, where you wanted to go, if you were hurting or not. And all without ever saying a single word? Jaaak, talk to me."
"It's...nothing," Jak looked down and stared at his boots like a seven year old caught in the act of taking the cookie from the jar.
"Uh huh," Daxter flicked his ear playfully and when this still didn't illicit a response from Jak, he added, "Is it when…in the prison?"
The very sentence came out of Daxter's mouth abstractedly, but Jak followed his train of thought, as he always did.
Jak slowly let his gaze wander up and into the ottsel's light blue eyes. He took a deep breath, "Yeah."
It was spoken softly, but still managed to hold all the meaning in the world.
Smoake blinked overhead and leapt down from his perch to land on Jak's shoulder. Jak jumped violently and leapt to the side erratically as if to dodge a metalhead attack and hit his shoulder on the tree with the strange vine heavily.
He growled as his injured arm hit the trunk. Daxter sent a heavy glare to Smoake, who returned the glare carefully and wrapped himself around Jak's neck. A thrumming sound soonbegan to emanate from Smoake.
Jak didn't get up from where he sat against the tree and Daxter didn't coax him out of his reverie. He just curled up in Jak's lap and tried to keep him from slipping too far into his thoughts. Every once in a while he'd a comment to Jak to make sure he didn't lose himself in his mind.
Smoake seemed to feel that the best thing he could do at the time was to keep thrumming and soothing Jak with his soft music.
•Jaaaaaaak• Smoake sang to him over and over, recoiling briefly whenever he brushed too close to Dark's conscience.
After an hour of this show of silent support from Smoake and not-so-silent Daxter, Jak finally had the strength to get up and leave.
"Thanks," was all Jak could manage, but sometimes less is much, much more.
Smoake obediently picked a spot in the tree that he could nest in and stayed behind while Jak and Daxter zoomed off on the former's jetboard toward whatever mission an angry Torn may have in mind to throw at them.
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The following three weeks showed just how different Smoake was from the other animals that inhabited Haven City, and most certainly from the crude metalheads.
He ran through a growth spurt that had his body tripling it's size; Smoake's back was level with Jak's chin. His white scales grew from a dull, blank white to a dazzling sheen of white scales that, when caught in certain light, radiated a transparent flurry of color. The webbing on his wings went from a leathery, murky black to a pure black color that looked to be an almost midnight blue when held up against the light. His claws acquired a deadly gleam to them and started to form a serrated edge on the inside curve. His clear, black eyes gained the experienced look of a hunter.
The almost daily visits from Jak and Daxter broadened his vocabulary so that he no longer had to revert to simple words to try and make them understand, but could talk with each of them without having to think about it beforehand. His frustration at having to remain hidden grew with each passing day. And he made sure that his only contact to whatever was happening outside of Haven Forest knew about it.
•Jak! I can't stay here forever…someone's going to stumble upon me sooner or later. And I can't stand the thought of you going out on all these missions and coming back with injuries that could've been prevented if I had been there. The hate you feel for the Baron is strong and since I am linked with you mentally, whether you like it or not, my own hate seed for the Baron is growing.•
•Torn wants you hidden until absolutely necessary…he sees you as a valuable tool to the Underground but apparently he's waiting until…until…well I don't know what he's waiting for, but if he's lead this rebellion against the Baron for this long, he must have a good reason for not using such a good weapon just yet•
•So now I'm a weapon? A dead, cold gun that can go into storage until it's needed?• Smoake twisted his neck around to look at Jak, who was sitting on his back while Smoake meandered through the forest. As had become one of their customary rituals whenever he and Daxter came to see Smoake.
•I didn't say that• Jak patted the tip of Smoake's nose.
Daxter piped up •Torn's just a big ass is all…can't stand having someone show him up in the area of tactics•
Smoake grinned toothily, his fangs glinting in the dappled patches of light before twisting his head back around and continuing to walk again.
•All we can do right now is wait then…• Smoake sighed, once again losing the rather becomingrepetitive argument.
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Soooooo :twiddles toes:
How was it? I know I didn't really get anywhere storyline-wise, but I wanted to establish where Smoake is staying and his growth spurt and stuff...and I stayed up 'til 11:00 on a schoolnight to write this chapter for you guys, so review damnit! 3 to all my supporters and former reviewers!