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abhorrently) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2024-03-31 01:51 am
abhorrently) wrote in ph_logs2024-03-31 01:51 am
(open) and these thoughts are in my head
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.
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.
no subject
"A bit more auspicious a name!"
One would have to wonder what aspects their parents wanted their son to emulate, if it was Caesar. But king? That's good enough.
(It pricks at her, just a little, the common question she gets asked - where her own name came from. She hopes that somehow, it was born from something that would make sense if she could but remember it.)
"You must miss him terribly."
no subject
(Aw, Fever.)
For a moment, there's a depth of pain to César's expression before it softens. "... I do, but I believe I'll see him again. And I won't have to give up this place, so long as I can leave with something like my sending stone."
no subject
He could still talk to everyone, though.
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She just stares at him for a moment in time. Of all the things she's encountered - fighting a divine avatar among them - she wouldn't have expected those words out of his mouth.
"What...what kind of mage are you actually?"
Because it's sure not a fucking druid.
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Lacking a word, she just gestures around her head with her hands, as if she was conveying a rather large storm cloud.
"You're a daredevil, aren't you?"
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It's half a joke.
"Just - ugh, I'm going to get a headache if I think about this too much. The possibilities. The last beings capable of doing that sort of thing that I met weren't human in the slightest."
no subject
César chuckles warmly. "You say like not being human is a bad thing. There's a reason why I always try to say 'people'."
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"That would make me a bad thing, César."
Which, she is. But that's not what he's talking about.
no subject
César looks down at his own hand. "I use the word 'people' because 'human' excludes people like him. ... and, well, the one chimpanzee EVO that has human intelligence. Bobo Haha is a singular case as far as I know."
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Her face, if he looks up at it, is that awkwardness when you're not sure if you should apologize or not.
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Vulnerability incarnated, really. And if one was a sibling, that delicate, breakable creature fell to you to accept and defend.
"What's said about first impressions always influencing you, I think it could apply there too."
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"Far enough to know there was a gap, but close enough to want to bridge it."
At least, that's how she's choosing to see it.
no subject
César smiles softly. "We both want to bridge it. It's actually five years shorter now due to—" Elaborate shrug. "—science shenanigans that made me fast-forward in time. Which means Rex just sees me as old, not ancient."