(open) and these thoughts are in my head

[abhorrently]

Who: Fever & open
What: Settling into the town in varied ways.
When: Second half of March/early part of April.
Where: Varied locations - see prompts.
Warning(s): Likely intrusive murder thoughts, others to be added should they arise.


work - town hall.
The newest clerk at Town Hall is a woman with a scar on her face and an eagerness to learn the system. Soon enough, she's figured things out, as if she'd been working there for months instead of the short time it really has been. Things flow easily, aided by both the strange item she'd retrieved from that one shop and what seems to be an innate understanding. But then again, if one can negotiate tactics midbattle, a job with paperwork and filing is practically nothing. So, if you need something, she's likely the one to dispense the forms or take them, working through the level of administration that all the new arrivals warranted.

Of course, it's not always business, and at the right time, someone might catch her at break, a novel from the library at hand and a dictionary close by as she needs to look up words. Some concepts and items are as of yet unknown to her, but she believes firmly with a bit of study, it can all be sorted.

training - "fight club."

When she joins the ranks of those sparring, talking her way into a day when the militia and the Enforcers are doing their training, it's really to satisfy her own desires for combat no matter what she tells them. Sure, she can go out in search of monsters, but that requires a companion and planning. This is more freeform, and fighting against someone else here lets her look at their capabilities. No magic to start with - best to be fair to all involved - and instead, Fever relies on a sturdier branch. Peter's not done with the staff yet, so this is the closest she can get. She fights with a clear joy in her movements, happy to test herself against anyone until either her opponent yields or someone outside calls the match.

That said, there are moments of downtime, where one has to catch their breath and drink water, where she's just leaning against the side observing or lightly applauding at the end of one spar. Catching a fighter's eye, they're offered an amused but restrained smile, and win, lose, or neither, it's clear something impressed her.

They're still never getting her to sign up with the Enforcers, though.

festival green - picnic.

Though she shies from the doll making, Fever can't deny the appeal of being able to picnic on the green, and waits until the event is over and dealt with before she takes her inspiration and heads outdoors. It's not perhaps the most ideal weather for it - clouds, the wind - but it's not so bad as to keep her from it. So here she is, with a simple lunch that's been ferried over and a blanket to sit on, trying to think about if she's ever done this before. Had reason to, really. But a passerby will interrupt her thoughts, and she'll raise her hand to get their attention.

"Does it seem like rain to you?"

Of course, there's enough room on the blanket for two, if you're feeling particularly sociable or are eyeing a free snack. Or, it can start to do as much as lightly rain, and she's not budging from where she is, considering it still fine weather.

wildcard.

Different idea? Throw it at me, I'm wide open for other scenarios. Will match the format of any tag-ins. Opt out post.

Comments

[blindwatchersees]

It does seem to be a bug. A caterpillar, to be specific, maybe two inches long. It's got a smooth body, no fuzz, and a fancy pattern down its back.

[abhorrently]

...Strange. Very strange. But she's reminded of the last time a strange bug wandered into her rooms, and she picks it up gently, turning the light on to see it more clearly rather than the grayscale of darkvision.

"Where did you come from...?"

It could be a coincidence. Or it could be a sign.

[blindwatchersees]

Turning on the light makes a huge difference. The little creature is the most vivid turquoise blue she's ever seen, and faintly iridescent. Its markings almost resemble a little tailcoat.

It seems a little confused to have been picked up, and it's looking around in the way a caterpillar usually does when it finds itself higher up than it was a moment ago.

[abhorrently]

Definitely leaning towards the idea of a sign, then. It's too distinctive to be something she picked up in the Paradesium.

Glancing around her apartment, she makes a quick decision, and puts it gently down on her pillow for now.

"I'll be right back."

She's got to dash out to go get leaves from somewhere, something. All she needs is to throw on her coat and go, since it's so early she won't be seen. But she'll be back swiftly enough, since she has a reason to hurry.

[blindwatchersees]

The caterpillar doesn't go anywhere. It just waits, in caterpillarly fashion.

[abhorrently]

When she comes back, she has a mix of wildflowers as well as leaves, a small bouquet in her hands and a few sticks. She has no idea how much a single strange caterpillar can and will eat, so a moderate amount seems okay. It can't live on her pillow, but perhaps on a side dresser, so it's still able to get sunlight but has room to simply be.

What she ends up with is nothing like a terrarium, but it's arranged enough so the little being can climb if it wishes, that food of its choice might be at hand, and when the sun rises, light will come in for it.

"There you go. More comfortable than my bed, I'm sure."

[blindwatchersees]

The caterpillar says nothing in response, which is fairly typical for a caterpillar. Instead, it begins to crawl, its little feet plodding along until it takes an interest in a particular plant and begins to happily munch. It carves little semicircles in the edge of the leaves and nibbles on some tender petals.

[abhorrently]

There's nothing else to do, so Fever lays back down in bed, watching it where it calmly eats and lives its little caterpillar life. There's hours still before she has to be truly awake and getting ready for work, and resting while watching the creature is better than tossing and turning with her dreams, after all.

For now, it's just quiet, as the sun slowly rises up and casts its rays through the curtains, peeking through to alight on the caterpillar. Pretty, she thinks, that color and that strange pattern.

[blindwatchersees]

It seems so untroubled, sitting there in the pile of green, eating its fill. It's so small, so delicate, so pretty...

There really is nothing terribly remarkable about it outside of its unusual markings and the association caterpillars in general have with a certain Daedric Prince...

[abhorrently]

It being unremarkable is why it's remarkable. Just an appearance of a little friend, without a worry in the world.

And of course, how caterpillars and butterflies make her think of him, of the little altar she has set up. Of the knife that isn't there, a vague and fuzzy almost dream of him blowing away in the wind. Of how it felt to be hugged and held for a moment, his pride a tangible thing, so much more than she suspects she ever had.

She closes her eyes against the sun, tucking her arm under her pillow. She misses him. Friend, companion, ally. One who saw her mind, and did not make it hurt any more for it. And the title she's been so reluctant to hand over, for how stained and tarnished the word is in her own past. If anyone deserved it, it might be him, though she fears, she'll always fear that something will surge up and snatch it back by blood-right.

I miss you, she thinks. Yes, he's not gone. One cannot destroy a concept, a god, so easily. But she misses his voice in her head, and the surety of a presence. The apartment is quiet, and she can miss him privately, the ache of a misaligned wound that will always come back when the weather changes.

[blindwatchersees]

Her new roommate does little to disturb her thoughts, making no sound aside from very teeny teeny tiny little crunching sounds.

[abhorrently]

The tiniest little crunches, a murmur in the background of her mind.

Here, she is alone. Here, she is safe. No existence that needs saving. Only her own stumbling along a tangled path, no guide nor compass save instinct. In some ways, like tracing the Weave in her own body and utilizing it, having to trust herself to know what needs doing.

Light, Phil had called it. She remembers his words, has gone over them time and again. (...rivers of it, like a third circulation besides arteries and nerves, with its own source besides the heart and the brain, like a star in the middle...)

So soft, it could be naught but a breath between sleep and waking, invested with the same care that she had given to words whispered in his embrace. Testing it. Seeing if it hurts to say it still.

"...father."

[blindwatchersees]

... to trust herself to know what needs doing.

And that is why her visitor is a caterpillar and nothing more. Simplicity is what she needs right now. Not the splendor of a god or the mischief of a jester, but the space to simply be and grow. To feel out her life, her place, her words.

Once the little creature has eaten all that it can, it burrows into the remaining plant matter to sleep.

[abhorrently]

When it comes time to actually leave for work, she bids the caterpillar a soft see you later, feeling it weird to just depart with none of it. Throughout work, she occasionally thinks on it, wondering again where it might have come from. Wondering what it's trying to tell her.

So when she gets back, she has the urge to announce she's returned - silly, she tells herself, but she goes to her room anyway. Would it still be there, happy among the plants?

[blindwatchersees]

The little creature is back to munching. It’s actually quite impressive how much such a small insect can pack away; the volume of plant matter has noticeably diminished. There do seem to be certain plants it prefers, too.

[abhorrently]

"Guess I didn't realize how much you needed to eat..."

She'll have to feed it very regularly until what happens is to happen, whether it just gets bigger or makes it to butterflyhood. There's a glimmer of excitement in her at the possibility - at getting to firsthand watch the growth and change until it comes out in the world.

[blindwatchersees]

It plods away from the plants and rears up in her direction. It seems to be trying to get a better look at her.

[abhorrently]

"Hey now, I said I'd be back later."

Drawing near to it, she crouches some near the caterpillar so she can look at it closer, fondness in her voice. No one else is there. Why not dote on it?

"I'm right here. When I have to go away, I'll tell you, all right? Like when I have to go get you more food, or go to work, or I've decided to step out."

[blindwatchersees]

It inches closer, then rears up again. Its eyespots make it look like it's laughing while it's sitting up like this, though it looks almost somber when it's low to the ground.

[abhorrently]

Very, very gently, she raises a finger to touch it. Is this what having a pet is like?

"...You came to me, so I'll keep you safe. Until you grow and change and gain your wings."

Until it doesn't need her shelter anymore.

[blindwatchersees]

Its skin feels strange and soft. It moves to climb onto her finger, with some uncertainty in its movements.

[abhorrently]

"It's okay. I won't let you fall."

Lifting it gently, she brings it closer to her body, where it could crawl on her shoulder if wished. Otherwise, they can just stay close.

"Come on. I'll show you the rest of the place and not just this room."

It can come on a tour of the rest of the rooms - the little spaces where she dwells. Hall, kitchen, living room with a brief detour to her personal altar, then out onto the balcony so it can get the full experience.

[blindwatchersees]

The caterpillar seems to prefer her hand, specifically whichever part is the highest. When her hand is flat, it favors the warmth of her palm.

It doesn't give any indication that it's getting anything out of the tour, but it definitely has at least some interest in its surroundings.

[abhorrently]

She finds a happiness in nurturing it over the days to come. Plants for it to eat, a clean environment to be in, sometimes just putting it in her hand on a nice day and taking it on the balcony - she's no insect expert, but she wants it to have some fresh air. A trip to Ava's, at one point, where they can marvel over life growing and changing and what they lacked before. The rains are beginning to fall, spring turning more and more, and she waits for the spike of hateful agony that will come into her, demand she injure the little beast.

Perhaps it is too small for the urges to notice. The worst thing she'll think is that she could eat it, bright as beetles and shades of sweets it is, but that would mean she was alone in the apartment, and there's no telling what might happen to her, anyway. The last time she ate strange bugs...

Regardless, it is safe, and it can grow, and she watches its progress with eager eyes. It exists, and she asks nothing else of it.

[blindwatchersees]

And it grows quickly, fat and happy and healthy. Clearly what Fever's doing for it seems to be correct.

However, a day comes when it suddenly loses interest in the plants she brings, but it still seems hungry. That night, Fever's dreams are intruded upon by a vision of purple, fragrant mushrooms, surrounded by the recognizable features of Paradesium.