The taste of blood filled his mouth. Was this it? Was it worth it? Another brutal blow crushed against his jaw knocking loose a tooth, likely cracking a few more. He reached up and felt his jaw. He opened his mouth, moved it sideways - it ached, but it wasn't broken. He smiled a smile that more closely resembled a grimace. He quipped a remark meant to belittle his abuser, though it came out more as an invitation to continue the brutality. The attacker was more than happy to oblige.
The word "weak" echoed through his mind as his consciousness failed him. As darkness descended upon him, he found himself in another place - darkness falling there, too. The time was barely a few months in the past, and he stood outside a local nightspot called the Trainwreck Saloon. He passed through its threshold, his mind allowing for a palpable difference in the atmosphere, from the world outside and that indoors. Something inside pulled at him, tugged him to remain here, telling him that it was a place where he belonged, a place where he would visit time and again. It was so easy now, looking back.
Subsequent visits to the Trainwreck would introduce him to a parade of interesting, amazing beings that no Pulitzer-winning author could possible do justice. They would rage from the horrific to the unearthly noble, but for him, one face would stand out above all others. Marlo. It would be for her that he would come back to the bar time and time again, when bereft of any other reason.
When his senses came to him, he was alone, lying upon the warm earth of an Indian Summer day. Her face was burned into his eyelids. He got up slowly, a dull ache throbbing in his head. Once he'd gotten to his feet, the real pain began. It felt as though he'd been hit in the head numerous times by a hammer. Buko's strikes did feel a lot like that, come to think of it. It mattered little. He stumbled at first, but he used the unnatural strength in his blood to move back toward the place where she would be found. He smiled in a triumph his broken body almost refused to accept. The other had attempted to lay waste to him because he was special, because he had her favor. He stroke triumphantly, though battered and bruised toward her. Many asked, over the course of the evening what had happened. He made gests and shrugged the events off. Even to her, he made little mention of it. He took his medicine and accepted things as they were.
She respected that, and that took him deeper into her confidence, though she was not one to show it. He had to figure out. He gained her approval as well as a good many others'. He learned the ways of the Kindred, taking of their blood, growing in power as he grew among them. He served and did his damnedest to protect her, though he often found this to be an exercise in futility. She was every bit as stubborn and bull-headed as she. He exhibited similar traits, not listening, not following instructions. He did what was necessary, though, when it counted, and he continued to earn her respect and approval.
There came to be a night, the 13th of November in point of fact, where Jaxon, young charge and loyal ghoul to Marlo Chase would receive her immortal Kiss. The Embrace was given to him, and he joined the ranks of the Kindred, childe now to Marlo, not simply servant anymore. He could, and would enjoy all of the privileges that the experience of, perhaps multiple lifetimes, has to offer.
The new happiness was short-lived, however. As a ploy to harm both Jaxon and Marlo, an insidious Kindred kidnapped and rendered Jaxon immobile, thought dead until his rescue. Since then, Jaxon has gone about making alliances among the Kindred, including a brief interlude with a prominent Primogen's child.
Recent times have caught up with Jaxon, however. He's matured somewhat among the Kindred. Youthful angst has been replaced with experienced caution. He's assumed some of their traits, He has reputedly said that he is "becoming more Ventrue." Combining the air of caution with his now more refined palate, he continues to demonstrate skills, and to some extent, character, befitting that of a Prince's child. He speaks of his life as being akin to a cage. He shall soon have the keys. Will he leave it behind? If so, will he look back? The choice is yours, for Eternity, Jax.