Jacqueline trailed behind Morgan at a leisurely pace, vaguely aware of the young woman's presence- or rather, forcing herself to disregard the redhead. Morgan held an air about her that was nearly impossible to block out unless one was truly attempting to ignore her, and Jackie found it fairly agitating that she could not simply overlook the girl and focus on the more important matters at hand. As a result of her silent fury, she'd managed to lag even farther behind. Then again, it wasn't as if that really mattered. The museum they'd taken refuge in had been built virtually in the middle of what had once been a large, thriving city and was now flat and barren. Somewhere like Manhattan, she figured, but not as central a location. New York had been a major target the day the bombs fell, much like all focal cities in the United States had been, so this one couldn't have been of much importance. Today, however, it was considered a town of healthy proportion- what was left of it, anyways. Time had taken its toll on this forgotten land as well, and most of the buildings had been reduced to rusting skeletons and mountains of rubble. Vehicles that lined the sidewalks and barricaded the streets had been rendered inoperable by both natural causes and years of neglect. The little remaining brick and concrete had ultimately fallen victim to the overgrown roots of what had formerly been domesticated brush but was now no more than black, dead weight. Jacqueline assumed that the plants had grown healthily for a time, covering anything and everything in its path, then died after all its resources had run out. The symbolism was unnerving.
It wasn't long before the pair stepped over the city limits into a more rural area. The houses were, surprisingly, in much better condition than the buildings in the city had been. Jacqueline found it ironic that what appeared to be strong and built to last had crumbled, while the more humble, modest structures had survived, more or less. Then again, the word "modest" didn't seem to suit all of the homes. Most of them near the city were very large, almost regal. However, the farther they wandered, the smaller the homes became. Why they hadn't stopped to explore the bigger houses was beside Jacqueline, but Morgan seemed to know where she was going. Her strut was determined, too fast and sure for this journey to have been nothing more than a whim. She arched an eyebrow as she considered the things Morgan could have been planning. The woman was obviously capable of many things, so why did she need anyone's help? She continued pondering these thoughts long after Morgan disappeared around a corner. Jacqueline quickened her pace subconsciously, not daring to fall too much farther behind, for she was almost certain that it would be impossible to find Morgan among the maze of homes.
Jacqueline shivered and adjusted her crimson windbreaker as she rounded the corner, teeth chattering. Though it was well after noon, the sun was obscured by thick clouds. Not only did that make for an eerie overshadow, but the lack of sunlight made everything a few degrees colder than it should have been at midday. Jackie glanced upward, scanning the sky for any sign that the cloud cover would dissipate soon, and grumbled incoherently when she noted that the gray seemed to stretch on forever. How lovely, she thought bitterly, frowning. The day would be as dull and dreary as it would have been if she'd decided to stay underground. After a few moments of sulking, her gaze leveled with her surroundings once more. It didn't take long for her to realize that Morgan had disappeared. Jackie's first thought was to call out to the girl. But she'd have to admit to Morgan that she had somehow managed to fall so far behind that she'd gotten herself lost, and that was one thing the blond would not do. Besides, there were only six homes in the small cul-de-sac. Finding the young woman wouldn't prove to be too difficult.
Plink! Her first step forward had knocked a small pebble into an coffee can in the middle of the street. The sound, however minuscule, made Jackie flinch and she laughed once anxiously. Her nerves never got the best of her, even at the worst of times, but today she was particularly jittery. Perhaps it was because this was the first time she'd been outdoors in a while. Or perhaps it was even because she was alone. Whatever the cause, she didn't like it and scolded herself silently as she began walking. Her strides were long and quick, and she reached the nearest house within mere moments. The front steps had collapsed and the wooden porch didn't seem sturdy in the least. A sensible human being would have taken note of that and moved on to the next home. Despite Jackie's aversion to the woman, she knew that Morgan was quite a sensible person and would not have risked such danger, so she scurried across the crunchy lawn to the next home. It was rather large and its condition was nothing short of sustained. The past few years had definitely had an impact on the building, but Jacqueline still thought it was pretty. The steps were made of stone on this one, and the porch concrete. The flaky wooden walls were a light shade of pastel green and the black-shingled roof had sunken slightly. Dark green shutters hung at awkward angles from the windows, but Jackie figured that it was once a very wonderful home. Whoever owned it had even built an old-fashioned well in the front yard.
"To hell with Morgan," Jacqueline muttered, ascending the stairs. She half expected them to cave simply because in this day and age nothing was as sure as it seemed. But they remained steady underfoot and she couldn't help but smile as she reached for the doorknob. She was cut short, however, when the scarf around her neck snagged a fractured post on the porch railing. It pulled tight then unwound itself from around her neck. A gust of wind caught the lightweight material and before she even knew exactly what she was doing, Jacqueline was sprinting across the lawn, arms outstretched, chasing the scarf as if it was actually of any value. She laughed at herself as she ran, this time out of amusement rather than fear, and the sound, however rare, was relieving. So relieving, in fact, that she continued to laugh long after the humor of the situation had dwindled. Even when the scarf finally landed high in a the branches of a tree, she smiled, too invigorated to frown. The tree was one of the few plants still alive. It was very large, with branches close to the ground, and very few orange and red leaves still clung to them. Her scarf would be easy to find. Grunting, Jackie jumped upward, catching a branch in her fingers, and pulled herself to sit atop it. From there, she stood, using the branch for support and continued hoisting herself upward with a skill acquired from years of a childhood spent outdoors. It took no time at all for her to reach the scarf- in fact, it was almost too easy. The thrill of climbing trees just wasn't as tangible as it had been all those years ago.
Unamused, Jacqueline dropped from branch to branch until she was a safe distance from the ground, then stayed perched a lower limb, one leg hanging over. Her back rested uncomfortably against the rough bark of the trunk and she sighed, twiddling her thumbs. Jackie no longer had the desire nor the strength to search for Morgan. She was perfectly content to lounge in the tree. If Morgan needed Jackie, she'd come find her. That remained her train of thought- until she saw the dragon. How she hadn't seen it before was baffling; It was impossible to miss. Each beat of its wings made a horrible ripping sound as it tore through the air. The sound was audible even at a distance- like the roar of an airplane, but unsteady and pulsing. It accelerated at a surprising rate, and Jacqueline gauged that it would arrive before she could reach the ground. Now, Jacqueline was no Abrahm. She didn't know anything about dragons, nor had she ever cared to learn of them. But it didn't take a genius to know that they were feral creatures. The way Jackie saw it, either the dragon wouldn't see her and would simply pass overhead, or it would see her, and she'd die. Needless to say, the latter option wasn't too appealing. But the closer the dragon got, the more evident it became that it had seen Jacqueline and intended on approaching her. She stood unsteadily, pressing her body against the trunk. There was no grand scheme to escape, no last-resort combat. There was only fear as the creature landed, and nothing more. A cloud of dust erupted from the dry lawn on which it had landed, and after a few moments, a man stepped forth.
Jacqueline cocked her head to the side and gaped as the dirt settled. The dragon's head was bowed, almost as if in reverence to the man as he passed the creature's enormous head. He was an intimidating figure, the man, with a tall frame and an aura that made him seem untouchable. His gaze scanned the horizon and locked when he noticed Jackie's figure amidst the branches of her hideout. "Hello," he called, walking briskly towards the tree. "I'd like a word, if you will." Whether his abrupt and distant halt was due to respect for one's space or fear of the strange, young, bleach-blond woman, Jacqueline wasn't sure. But he'd been polite, a feature seldom witnessed in this new age, and she decided to honor his small request. He didn't appear to be dangerous, unless you took into consideration the dragon that loomed in his shadow, and she figured that if push came to shove she could out run him, simply because he was quite mature in his years. Nevertheless, she was wary of all possible dangers as she dismounted the tree and stepped forward. The man stretched his hand forward as she neared. "Dominic Reynolds," he said sternly, with an expression that could have either been dominance or apathy. Perhaps a combination of the two.
"Jackie." That was all she felt she needed to say to the man, all she could muster under his tight stare. The rough scrape of worn soles against concrete broke her gaze from Dominic's and, for the first time in the three year's they'd been acquainted, she was more than relieved to see Morgan. Behind her was a smaller male covered in white dust and debris. She studied the figure for a few moments, then shook her head, suddenly aware that the redhead had spoken. "Oh- er, this is Dominic." Jackie muttered, jabbing a thumb over her shoulder. "He," she paused to make air quotes with her fingers, "'would like a word with us'." A series of sarcastic remarks and snide insults came to mind but she held her tongue. Now was obviously not the time for such useless quarreling.
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