fever. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
abhorrently) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2026-04-09 02:15 pm
abhorrently) wrote in ph_logs2026-04-09 02:15 pm
(open.) i'll leave you as you were
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.]
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.]