(open.) i'll leave you as you were

[abhorrently]

Who: Fever (abhorrently) & open.
What: Trying to live life post Eligos's fall.
When: Latter half of April and beyond.
Where: Across Marrow Isle
Warning(s): Will be noted in thread headers.

(cirrus - driving.)

It's an impulse that leads her to fork over the Brass in Calloway's shop for the machine. She has no idea where it cam from and no guarantee that it won't explode, but it's a reckless indulgence that harms no one but herself. Carefully wheeling it to the borders of downtown, Fever's set herself to the task of learning how to drive it, sticking to Northwest Hollow for now if only to have more room to stop and go. It's not elegant, nor intuitive, and the furthest thing from graceful for her to keep getting jolted around, but progress is being made. The erratic sounds of stopping and starting are obvious, and the bright yellow an artificial presence near the fields.

Fever for her part keeps up a quiet commentary to herself, a ghostly blue hand on the scooter to help it stabilize. Or at least, keep it upright when she tumbles off for the first or fourth time. But with time, she manages to get the hang of it, driving to and fro with practiced ease. This is going to be a true and wonderful investment, and she laughs with unrestrained joy to go swiftly.

Except when it runs out of energy, and Fever lets out a frustrated shout. It was just getting good, after all.

(altocumulus - hot springs.)

With all the fuss and stress of the last few weeks, it's a relief to slide back into the hot springs and forget about it all for a while. The vehicle's offered an easier transport, and she's brought sustenance, and out here someone would have to call her sending stone to bother her about anything. The hot water's a relief to her body, and she periodically sinks down to relieve her neck.

Hearing anything or anyone else, she'll be back to being alert, but seeing a person, she'll simply wave in greeting, inviting them to share the waters. They aren't hers - they're for everyone, and frankly, she can be convinced to part with some of her bounty.

How people choose to take the waters is up to them, but if anyone starts getting squeamish or weird, she does have her clothes close enough to be able to throw them back on. It's merely a body, and everyone has them - Fever sees no point in raising a huge fuss over it.

(stratus - training.)

It might seem counterintuitive to train when previously she was so afraid of what her hands could do. But control is the byword, the key element of what she needs. Shore up the defenses, get back on her feet, and keep fighting. With Valdis gone, her swordplay is left to what Darcy can teach her and practicing with a dummy that she's tied to a scarecrow's stake. The practice rapier is a far cry from the golden one hidden in her belongings, but it's necessary. She won't go flaunting that to just anyone.

It's not hard to find her, with the half-shouts of a serious training session in the area the milita was using, working on using the blade and holding a spell in her off hand to be released when it feels like she can naturally let it fly. Or it's a whip, thin and sharp and cracking, being directed until wider swings are pulled down into precise movements. Afternoon moves to early evening, and she takes her breaks lying down on the ground, observing clouds overhead and letting her heart thump in her chest.

It feels right, sweating and refining her motions until nothing is wasted. If she's to be an assassin all her days, she'll remain as good of one as she can possibly be.

(orographic - wildcard.)

[for any and all ideas that don't match up to the prompts! let's go for it.]

Comments

cirrus

[raggedydamn]

Ragatha's seen her go down the road outside the farms once already, which, well, already raised some questions (they didn't have vehicles like that in this era, did they?), but she mostly decided to mind her own business and keep on with her work.

But when Fever tumbles off the bike, she comes up to her fence and calls over, "Oh, hey, are you okay?"

[abhorrently]

Hearing a voice, Fever pulls herself up, dust and dirt over her front. This has been an informative day, if not always the most elegant, and she absently tries to wipe some of it away. The doll woman is someone she hasn't met - she'd thought she'd glimpsed a figure in the farms, but had chalked it up to a scarecrow or the like. Huh. In a town where she's met people from all kinds of worlds, a doll one isn't that far fetched.

"How much of that did you see?"

Thankfully, the mage hand has kept the scooter from falling over quickly, lowering it to the ground so nothing breaks.

[raggedydamn]

"Uh— as little as you'd like me to have seen?" Ragatha half-jokes—really, tell her to pretend it never happened and she'd just do it, she's that kind of person. She considers climbing over the fence, but doesn't yet—the woman doesn't seem hurt, so...

[abhorrently]

"So, all of it."

She doesn't sound mad about it, though. It's just her pride more than anything, and that's usually broken to pieces halfway through any week. Getting up, she winces - that's definitely going to bruise - and works on lifting the scooter back up.

"Calloway told me this was a simple matter to learn to drive. Clearly, his version of simple and mine are not identical."

[raggedydamn]

Ragatha flashes a sheepish smile.

"Oh, that's where that came from!" She has heard of that strange store, by now, so that answers the question she wasn't at all planning to voice. "I suppose a salesman would downsell the difficulty to get a sale... I can't imagine something like that came cheap."

stratus

[ownperson]

South knows those sounds well enough. Out getting air, trying to burn some energy of her own (not really succeeding). She doesn't quite recognise the voice behind the shouts until she's close enough to see—ah, yep, Fever.

Knowing how it can get when you're in it, she doesn't immediately speak up, not wanting to throw her off her flow (or, y'know, jumpscare her with a weapon in her hand).

[abhorrently]

She's alert enough to know she's being approached, but dismisses the held spell before she turns. Sweat beads her brow, and her face cracks up into a smile.

"Hey, South."

Winding the whip back up in her hands is a reflex for the moment, before she crosses to go get some water from her things. The wooden dummy looks a bit patchwork by now, but it's still holding.

[ownperson]

South's, "Hey," comes out more of a grunt, paired with a nod of acknowledgement before she uncrosses her arms and drifts a bit closer. Her eyes flick between the whip and the dummy.

"You're fucking that thing up pretty good. Whip, huh?"

[abhorrently]

"For now. Got a sword for when I want to switch."

The practice rapier is with her things, and she nods in its direction. It's dull, but it can still leave marks on the wood.

"I'm figuring out how to get it to wrap around things - it seems to be all about how you move your wrist."

And hers will kill her tomorrow, but that's fine.

[ownperson]

South's eyes follow her nod to the rapier, then go back to her. "Makes sense, I guess. Is that really, like, dangerous in a real fuckin' fight? I mean, I guess it would sting like a bitch..."

You don't really get whips in the space future (or at least not in combat), what can she say.

altocumulus

[not_the_last]

There are audible footfalls approaching before anyone comes into view, and a rustling of the surrounding brush. Fever's got plenty of advance notice that someone's coming.

When Cassandra does step into view, she's wearing a broad sun hat and a loose linen robe over a bathing costume that could comfortably pass for street wear in a great many cultures, and carrying a large wicker basket and a towel folded over her arm.

[abhorrently]

She's greeted with a wave from where Fever is, hurriedly chewing the strawberry she has and swallowing so she can speak without her mouth full.

"Cassandra! What a surprise."

At present, she's deep enough that the water reaches her collarbones, warm and comforting on the bruises she gained learning to drive.

[not_the_last]

Cassandra looks surprised in turn, and pleased, to see her.

"Fever. Are you -- I beg your pardon, are you here for solitude or company? I'm happy to provide either one."

[abhorrently]

"I am here for whatever the day brings. You're welcome to join me. Do you want any strawberries?"

Fruit and the hot springs is practically a tradition, after two years of keeping it up. Sharing is also part of that.

[not_the_last]

"Oh, that sounds lovely. For after bathing?"

She sets down her basket, drapes the towel neatly over it, and crouches to start taking off her shoes.

Nimbostatus.

[psalmofseasons]

Eligos dies, and all of a sudden, it's all over. The castle vanishes, stone walls or red plush rooms or bone-filled mazes suddenly gone, replaced so abruptly by the streets and buildings of Pumpkin Hollow that it's jarring enough to throw one of one's step. The clock strikes three when it happens.

It's cold out. Despite the fact that it's mid-March, a light flurry of snow falls.

In the distance, there is weeping.

[abhorrently]

Back to Pumpkin Hollow. Back into the place they never left, where all the death wrought at her hands didn't stick, and she should be grateful, but all she feels is misery. It doesn't change that she proved who she was, who she is. Blood stains her nightgown, her hands, streaked across her face, unable to be cleaned away by tears or wiping on fabric- and now it's cold again. Not the same hateful cold of the dungeons - the freezing water that had tried to kill her - but winter's cold. Cold enough for snow to fall in March, and Fever for a moment is so stunned by the change that she's startled.

Eligos is dead, and his spell is broken. And someone is crying, and Fever finds her feet moving, going in the direction of the sound. No shoes, but it doesn't matter - her feet will move over stone and earth regardless, heedless of the feeling or the exhaustion in her limbs from the emotional and physical strain of the last number of hours. She has to go to whoever it is.

Onwards she goes, through the snow.

[psalmofseasons]

The source of the sound is a pair of familiar women.

Well, one of them. The other is trying to console her. Bare against the chill, freckled arms wrap around a black silhouette, brown antlers floating adrift in a mound of orange curls. Serranai only looks up when she sees Fever coming.

"Oh, thank the stars," she says, coming over and reaching for Fever's hands. Darling niece. If there's blood on those hands, Serranai doesn't seem to mind it. "Your mama's so worried about you, love."

[abhorrently]

There is, but her aunt's hands taking hers makes her think about it less, putting aside trifling matters of the bloodstains for the more important one that her mother is weeping, and it makes Fever want to cry as well. She'll take a deep breath, and try to focus on what's important.

"What's happened to her?"

Despite it all, she can manage to ask that.

[psalmofseasons]

"You, luv, she's worried after you," Serranai insists. "I've not been able to say a single word to console her. She needs to be with you now."

cirrus

[thetombkeeper]

There's a much louder rumbling coming from nearby by the time Fever's little joyride comes to an end from the lack of energy. While he generally sticks to the south edge of town, Marik's decided to explore the northern roads this time — and that's when he spots the very bright yellow Vespa.

What the boy approaches on is loud, even with the fuel conversion. It looks a metal blue and silver horse of some kind to those unfamiliar with motorcycles. Rather than a helmet for protection, he's opted for goggles. He doesn't have access to his dorky helmet here.

The tomb keeper kills the engine, allowing the both of them a moment for their hearing to adjust before he speaks. Marik's grinning, clearly pleased to see someone else take the dive in getting a vehicle besides himself.

"Get that from Calloway's?"

[abhorrently]

The machine's sound heralds the arrival of another soul to witness her defeat. Okay, it's not that bad, but looking up, she watches the blue and silver vehicle coming nearer and nearer, trying to figure it out. It's not the same as hers, but it has something similar about it. Artificial beasts covering the land with wheel and force.

As he gets nearer, Fever vaguely recognizes him. Fall's Promise is a place she sometimes walks for her own peace, and he's been around enough months that she's glimpsed him here and there. What was his name again?

The engine stops, and she's glad for the second - it means she's not shouting to be heard.

"Indeed. Recently, as it happens - he promised me it would be a simple matter to drive."

The unspoken implication is that it isn't.

[thetombkeeper]

Likewise, now that he's closer, he recognizes Fever. The holiday for the goddess of death. Wasn't she leading it? He doesn't remember that night very well but Marik knows he's seen her around given both frequent the graveyard.

The boy can't help but laugh at her remark. Not so much at Fever but Calloway being awful with his descriptions.

"It is simple once you've learned how to handle it. The weight distribution is a little weird with Vespas because they're so bottom heavy."

He pulls his goggles down to rest around his neck.

"You need any help with it? Motorized vehicles are a passion of mine."

[abhorrently]

Fever mouths the word Vespa after he says it, clearly new to the concept. So, the beast's name is Vespa now?

"It'd be quite appreciated. I can't figure out why it's suddenly deciding to not move."

If Calloway sold her a defective machine...well, that'd be on her for buying weird and eccentric machines, after the time she was sold something that looked exactly like dog food. But she's hopeful there's a fix to it.

[thetombkeeper]

Marik puts his kickstand down and climbs off of his bike, walking over to inspect the scooter.

"How long have you been driving it around?" He asks as he looks for a fuel tank. Doesn't seem like there is one... The teen purses his lips slightly. Electric, maybe...?