𝖈𝖎𝖗𝖎 𝔬𝔣 𝔠𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔞 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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meadowlarklogs2018-09-14 03:24 pm
persists) wrote in meadowlarklogs2018-09-14 03:24 pm
Entry tags:
— open log
WHO: ciri and u
WHERE: all over
WHEN: doesn't matter
WHAT: being dumb
NOTES OR WARNINGS: self harm, technically...
one — the club scene
[ There's something she's learned from Dandelion and his associates quite some time ago — loose lips are more useful than you'd imagine. A bit ... vulgar, but when information is so important, finding those willing to offer it was crucial.
Ciri knows best — how drunkards and sloshes spill their hearts out to a pretty girl. She gets an outfit with a hood, one masking the ugly scar ripping up the side of her face. With the limited freedom she has, she hopes to interweave in the kinetic crowd of the club she finds herself in.
It's raw, it's gritty — the sound of high-pitched electronica nothing more than a foreign sound to the woman. She must admit, even when she traveled to other worlds... she still finds the change fascinating. It's no simple string or drum. It's faster than that, more precise and quickened. Ciri likes it.
For now, she plans to take things easy — hang outside among some of the lingerers who instead rev engines of their hoverbikes, showing off the latest equipment and hardware installed. The music spills out to them as people pass by, let in by bouncers. Ciri'll head in too eventually, but...
Luckily, she asked you to tag along. ]
They're beautiful. [ She says in a slight trance, sighing at the craftsmanship of the vehicles. ] The silver, the iridescent glimmer to its paint — they practically sparkle like stars...
---
two — the safehouse scene
[ A few bad hangovers later, Ciri is back in the safehouse kitchen with little to no privacy. It's not as if she cared at this point — she has a place to sleep, bathe, and come back to. It's something.
Ciri's keeping to herself, seemingly deep in thought as she stands over the sink of the kitchen. She had just cut something up for lunch — but as she holds the blade to her palm, it seems... there's something off.
With a quick slice, anyone can hear Ciri wince and recoil, immediately grasping at the fresh cut wound that drips blood down the drain. ]
Come on — come on. Glow —
[ She's mumbling to herself while bleeding, nbd. ]
---
three — the house-hunting scene
Yeah?! This place rivals a pig pen — to hell with you too! No one in rags can afford the riches you demand!
[ A dramatic kick sends a trashcan bumbling down a flight of stairs, followed closely by the totally not suspicious Ciri. It seems that the girl was looking at possible housing — places to rest her head, but even unsavory places have their price. Prices she can't afford. A few hotheaded comments and she makes an enemy with a possible landlord, but Ciri is too prideful to be here now.
Whether she asked to meet up or your paths cross, it's hard to ignore the trashcan rolling down the street. ]
WHERE: all over
WHEN: doesn't matter
WHAT: being dumb
NOTES OR WARNINGS: self harm, technically...
one — the club scene
[ There's something she's learned from Dandelion and his associates quite some time ago — loose lips are more useful than you'd imagine. A bit ... vulgar, but when information is so important, finding those willing to offer it was crucial.
Ciri knows best — how drunkards and sloshes spill their hearts out to a pretty girl. She gets an outfit with a hood, one masking the ugly scar ripping up the side of her face. With the limited freedom she has, she hopes to interweave in the kinetic crowd of the club she finds herself in.
It's raw, it's gritty — the sound of high-pitched electronica nothing more than a foreign sound to the woman. She must admit, even when she traveled to other worlds... she still finds the change fascinating. It's no simple string or drum. It's faster than that, more precise and quickened. Ciri likes it.
For now, she plans to take things easy — hang outside among some of the lingerers who instead rev engines of their hoverbikes, showing off the latest equipment and hardware installed. The music spills out to them as people pass by, let in by bouncers. Ciri'll head in too eventually, but...
Luckily, she asked you to tag along. ]
They're beautiful. [ She says in a slight trance, sighing at the craftsmanship of the vehicles. ] The silver, the iridescent glimmer to its paint — they practically sparkle like stars...
---
two — the safehouse scene
[ A few bad hangovers later, Ciri is back in the safehouse kitchen with little to no privacy. It's not as if she cared at this point — she has a place to sleep, bathe, and come back to. It's something.
Ciri's keeping to herself, seemingly deep in thought as she stands over the sink of the kitchen. She had just cut something up for lunch — but as she holds the blade to her palm, it seems... there's something off.
With a quick slice, anyone can hear Ciri wince and recoil, immediately grasping at the fresh cut wound that drips blood down the drain. ]
Come on — come on. Glow —
[ She's mumbling to herself while bleeding, nbd. ]
---
three — the house-hunting scene
Yeah?! This place rivals a pig pen — to hell with you too! No one in rags can afford the riches you demand!
[ A dramatic kick sends a trashcan bumbling down a flight of stairs, followed closely by the totally not suspicious Ciri. It seems that the girl was looking at possible housing — places to rest her head, but even unsavory places have their price. Prices she can't afford. A few hotheaded comments and she makes an enemy with a possible landlord, but Ciri is too prideful to be here now.
Whether she asked to meet up or your paths cross, it's hard to ignore the trashcan rolling down the street. ]
no subject
So I've been told.
[ She tries to distract him. ]
Why are you so keen on this? It may not be life-threatening, but you're going out of your way... when you needn't.
no subject
If you know what you're doing — what you're capable of — you can help someone later. [ said as if it's the most logical explanation. His voice softens. ] And change is, well, it's a bit shit, isn't it?
[ Ah, there, a knife that's much less intimidating than Ciri's own, though still sharp. He waits to retrieve it, turning a thoughtful look on Ciri. ]
I wouldn't want to deal with it my own, so. [ With that, he picks up the knife and joins her by the sink. ] Budge up.
no subject
[ GOD, SHE'S STILL GLARING!! ]
A prick. Nothing more.
no subject
He washes the knife (because, man, that'd be a stupid way to go) and does as instructed. Just a prick to his pointer finger, well, more the size of a paper cut. It'd be hard to observe the healing effects otherwise. No wince, but he bites the inside of his cheek. ]
[ holding out his hand. ] Go on then.
no subject
Anyways.
The paper-thin cut was visible — making her ball her palm together tightly into a fist. If it was to work — wasn't it more beneficial to really get the blood going? She sees red, not mint green as she had when she healed Keith. So... she's not very optimistic here. The distance closes between them, her eyes nervous and darting between his visage and down to his hand. Gently, despite how rough her demeanor and features may be, she takes is hand.
Nothing at first, simply his warmth. Her palm presses to his digit, fingers wrapping firmly against him. There's an awkwardness, as she looks away to try and hide the inquisitive expression on her face.
She doesn't like this — not the vulnerability, the inability, she thinks... Yet, there's a faint glow when her mouth opens to protest how silly this is. A heat more than their touches that makes her jaw drop. Pulling away, he'd find his wound healed.
Hers...not so much. ]
Er.
Well...then...?
no subject
He observes the dim glow and feels warmth supplant the faint sting of the cut. ]
Fantastic. [ breathed more than said, as he lifts his hand for closer inspection, even scratching at where the cut should be to ensure the healing isn't an illusion. Follow-up questions scatter his thoughts. Can the blood be studied? Does it have to be fresh? Is it her intent or her DNA? Best table them, for the moment.
Instead, he grabs the cloth from earlier and moves to take her hand again. If the blood affects others but not herself, there's no point in keeping the cut open. ]
My hero. [ teasing, definitely. The corners of his mouth quirk, almost a smile. ] And now we know.
no subject
Instead of hope, Fitz can get a clue that she's fearful. Worried. Guilty. There's something self-depreciating inside of her that she doesn't let out often. Doesn't speak — but even for something so... simple as a papercut prick, she wishes people didn't go out of their way for her.
Her own wound was far more dramatic than his and as her blood works itself onto his, undoing the seemingly time-tested cut... she tenses when he touches her. ]
My blood is something to be coveted, it seems... [ Almost bitterly. ] Nothing new.
[ What a childish response!! She forces a smile, that's clear. ]
If you get yourself into trouble, at least you know where you can turn to.
no subject
In his mind, the obvious implication is that she possessed powers prior to now, like so many others, and people wanted to use her for them. People like you, rings in the back of his mind, a crisp judgment.
Better not to pursue that line of questioning, with uneasiness suddenly twisting his stomach. ]
You'll wish you hadn't said that. [ a light quip. his mouth hooks into a lopsided smile, and he leans one arm against the countertop, faux roguish in posture. ] I'm notorious for trouble. Proper bad boy business, in fact. [ sure, jan. ] Non-stop. Every day.
[ please laugh... ]
no subject
Oh. Is that the impression you're giving off? A mild-mannered citizen was my first guess, but from this angle? A true deviant, through and through. One who knows not how to take no as an answer.
[ She drags that last sentence out, as if her words became daggers. It was a clear tease. ]
I mean it, you know.
no subject
Thank you. [ For the promise of future help. His smile evens out, a sincere little thing. ]
My offer to patch you up the old-fashioned way also stands, for the record. [ a pointed tip of his head. ] No shortcuts, and I'm still not a doctor, but.
[ he knows enough to be of use with most injuries. ]
no subject
[ She's a bit mad about it! Like damn, y'all!!! ]
Doctor or not, so long as you don't stitch my hand to my hip or cut off fingers, I'll be fine.