Entry tags:
◣ OPEN ◢
WHO: alina & anyone
WHAT: powers practice! & misc other slice of life opportunities related to thessyx departure, mole mission, and disappearances
WHEN: mid-july
WHERE: the memorial wall or theater roof
NOTES/WARNINGS: none yet
WHAT: powers practice! & misc other slice of life opportunities related to thessyx departure, mole mission, and disappearances
WHEN: mid-july
WHERE: the memorial wall or theater roof
NOTES/WARNINGS: none yet
& powers training
[ thanks to balthier and the rest of the aid station workers, alina recovers quickly from her mild sinkhole injuries. the bruising has vanished, and aside from a little weakness that's more a result of taking it easy for a couple weeks than anything else, she moves as she normally would again.
which means she can train as she normally would.
usually, she's either with nina or kirigan, and they try to stay discreet. there's only so much that can be done, however, for keeping flares of sunlight subtle. it flashes like a piece of metal glinting in the sun from the roof of the theater, just out of view, coaxing someone up to fix it. but there's no metal, and there's no sun peeking around or through the dragon's wing, let alone the endless cloud cover. just alina.
standing on the roof, hands out, holding a tiny basketball-sized sun in her palms. sweat beads on her brow, and she gasps, letting it evaporate all at once as her shoulders slump with released tension. her chin drops against her collarbone, her hands to her side, and she turns to walk a few paces like she's just finished running a lap.
using her power makes her skin glow. it leaves her energized, humming. but it's work. ]
& etc.
[ when she isn't training, she can most often be found wheedling the aid station workers to let her go on the trip to the mole habitats — which they are reluctant to do given how much time she'd spent there recently — or cleaning up after the talent at the theater which requires the break down of props and the recycling of costumes for the next show.
elsewhere around the base, she can be found nosing around the bunks and their adjacent lockers. kaz brekker is gone. when she goes looking for him, she finds his locker hanging open, emptied. dread shoots through her like a bolt of lightning. if the general had already found it, then he'd already know that someone from their future had been here. he'd know that there was a chance alina knew, that alina was lying.
a community outreach volunteer finds her sitting down on the bunk opposite that locker, her hand still over her mouth, a deeply troubled expression on her face, and lets her know that the items had been collected to be redistributed.
'i'm sorry,' they say patiently. 'was he a friend?' alina laughed.
later that week, she can be found just outside the base with mud all over her hands and knees. the mud leaves her bare hands red and irritated from its acidity, inherited from the rain, but alina doesn't flinch. ]
[ thanks to balthier and the rest of the aid station workers, alina recovers quickly from her mild sinkhole injuries. the bruising has vanished, and aside from a little weakness that's more a result of taking it easy for a couple weeks than anything else, she moves as she normally would again.
which means she can train as she normally would.
usually, she's either with nina or kirigan, and they try to stay discreet. there's only so much that can be done, however, for keeping flares of sunlight subtle. it flashes like a piece of metal glinting in the sun from the roof of the theater, just out of view, coaxing someone up to fix it. but there's no metal, and there's no sun peeking around or through the dragon's wing, let alone the endless cloud cover. just alina.
standing on the roof, hands out, holding a tiny basketball-sized sun in her palms. sweat beads on her brow, and she gasps, letting it evaporate all at once as her shoulders slump with released tension. her chin drops against her collarbone, her hands to her side, and she turns to walk a few paces like she's just finished running a lap.
using her power makes her skin glow. it leaves her energized, humming. but it's work. ]
& etc.
[ when she isn't training, she can most often be found wheedling the aid station workers to let her go on the trip to the mole habitats — which they are reluctant to do given how much time she'd spent there recently — or cleaning up after the talent at the theater which requires the break down of props and the recycling of costumes for the next show.
elsewhere around the base, she can be found nosing around the bunks and their adjacent lockers. kaz brekker is gone. when she goes looking for him, she finds his locker hanging open, emptied. dread shoots through her like a bolt of lightning. if the general had already found it, then he'd already know that someone from their future had been here. he'd know that there was a chance alina knew, that alina was lying.
a community outreach volunteer finds her sitting down on the bunk opposite that locker, her hand still over her mouth, a deeply troubled expression on her face, and lets her know that the items had been collected to be redistributed.
'i'm sorry,' they say patiently. 'was he a friend?' alina laughed.
later that week, she can be found just outside the base with mud all over her hands and knees. the mud leaves her bare hands red and irritated from its acidity, inherited from the rain, but alina doesn't flinch. ]
training;
( nevermind that he knows this already, having witnessed for himself firsthand in the fjerdan woods, when she'd covered herself and the stag and the tracker in a wall of light.
a spectacular sight.
but she doesn't remember that. that's the explanation he's settled on, at least, though some part of him is unable to entirely reconcile himself to the fact that he's had a second chance dropped so tidily into his lap, dragon goo and all. )
Is it easier, now. Calling the light?
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[ she doesn't admit to what had been holding her back, before. that's something that she's left behind, regardless of what betrayal had waited for her at the little palace. instead, she stays focused on what's ahead: how she's going to confront it.
the thessyx have moved on. she won't be hiding in their underwater city. aleksander kirigan won't be burning the basecamp to the ground in his fury at finding her missing. she's stuck here, for now. which means she needs him to arm her with the very weapons she'll use to fight him, one day. ]
But I doubt I'll be facing down any Fjerdan assassins or shredder moles with the light shows I learned to put on for the king.
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( he steps forward. she looks radiant. it's the kind of radiance that goes beyond simply using her power, he thinks. it makes him want to reach out, to press his fingers to her skin, to see if he can feel the sunlight that simmers just beneath the surface.
he doesn't. not yet. instead — )
It's an apt name, if a touch literal.
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[ instinct tells her to step closer to him, to mirror that movement until they're close. instead, she turns away from him to regard the basecamp. she has given herself a reason to keep him at a distance. she doesn't need to justify it any further. civility and nothing more. she'll hold onto it as long as she can.
that means ignoring those little impulses which still magnetize her to him. ]
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( he cocks his head to the side as he watches her as though he's taking her measure. it's an honest answer. whatever his feelings about the creatures, they had caused more than their share of discord, even if they hadn't brought her to direct harm. )
Have you ever given thought to the ways you might shape your light?
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( he's teasing her. rather blatantly, at that. a boy tugging on the braid of a girl that he likes. alina has this way of thawing him. wearing down his rough edges until they're polished and smooth.
he should hate this, hate how soft she makes him, but he doesn't. not really. )
Like the Cut. ( a demonstration is clearly in order.
aleksander pauses, debating. ) The Cut is useful, of course, but a Summoner is limited only by their imagination and focus. ( he closes his palm, opens it and a butterfly formed of shadow, wings velvet-dark, flutters into the air. )
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he is trying to play her. he wants to woo her without actually wanting her. her hands pull back, fingers curling as a confused grimace conquers her smile. ]
I'm not sure how butterflies will help me survive here long enough to help Ravka.
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( the butterfly dances on the air a moment longer, then melts away like steam. )
Butterflies might not seem like more than a party trick, but you would be surprised at how much focus it requires to not shape an element but hold it for longer than a few moments.
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she breathes deep and shuts her eyes, head tilting as she seems to bore into the matter of it and try to siphon something else out. the ripple on the surface grows stronger. it reshapes and collapses back into an orb. her brow furrows. ]
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You are an artist, aren't you?
( he knows she is. leaving aside the rather thorough briefing he'd had on her when she'd first been discovered, he'd seen her drawings. she wasn't just an artist but one of exceptional skill. )
When you were first learning to draw, what were the things you typically made your subjects?
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I don't know. Maps?
[ animals. the stag surfaces in her mind. her connection to it feels far. she takes a breath and summons another orb. she reaches for a creature -- something she has studied. it morphs into a vaguely rabbitlike shape. there are definite ears. ]
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( it's less a rabbit than a child's impression of one, but it's frankly better than many of his earlier attempts.
he's behind her, now. close enough to touch ㅡ and, after a moment's consideration, he does just that. his hands resting at the bow of her hips. )
When I first learned to do this, everything looked a little like I imagine the sea whip must look. Spindly and ribbon-like.
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The Mud Prompt
She's tired and looking forward to the relative comfort of a hammock, but seeing a girl wandering about out here, covered in mud, is enough to get her to slow her pace.]
Are you well?
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right. there had been a mission, hadn't there? ]
Trying to catch up with the tracking team. Failing, obviously. I thought it might be nice to have a cartographer along to note their routes, but ... [ she gestures between them. ] I see I'm too late.
[ it's a lie. not a particularly good one, either. she'd hesitated too long, and she isn't dressed for a hike. she has no rain shield. if she'd gone out more than a hundred meters, she'd have risked getting caught in a downpour and burned. ]
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Perhaps getting the truth is more trouble than it's worth, so she eventually shakes her head dismissively and decides to play along. They both know she knows it's something else, but she'll allow her to save face.]
It's not a bad idea. I have it mapped in my memory, but this doesn't help anyone else. [She nods toward the base, indicating they should head back inside.] Can you chart by description?
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[ rather, it would be decent for directions, but it'd make a poor landscape map without an ability to make anything to scale. certainly not the kind of thing a cartographer would proudly put in the hands of her people. ]
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I see. Well, I will be returning in the morning if you would like to accompany me then. If you can be timely.
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[ alina's not opposed — she's been wanting to make sure the hatchlings have their own maps of the region since their comms devices' access are apparently limited to childe-approved missions. but she's surprised to hear that eivor will be going back out. ]
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[The implication is that the crew isn't as thorough as she would like, or the moles' invasion wouldn't have happened in the first place. But she's not going to say this out loud.
She motions toward Alina's hands.] You will need to better your footing, though.
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We could probably both stand to get cleaned up.
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[Alina doesn't strike her as being particularly physically strong, so she's impressed that she's not visibly affected by the poison rain that leeches into the mud. It's a strange realm, where everything is poison or otherwise seemingly incompatible with life.
She starts toward the base again.]
It would be worse if you were caught in a downpour.
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[ she'd notice if it started drizzling, certainly. alina rubs her hands together to get more of the dirt off, the burning feeling settling into an impossible-to-ignore itch that tells her she's lost at least some patches of her first layer of skin. it's not the worst pain she's withstood stone-faced.
but she walks with eivor towards the base. ]
Did you find anything out about why those things came tunneling this way?
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The beasts we were sent to cull when we first arrived. The ones like rats. Their dens appear to be close enough to the moles where they were disrupted by our presence. I do not know why they chose this direction.
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she worries at her lip as they cross the threshold back into camp proper, where people move more freely in small crowds around them. ]
Do you ever get the feeling this whole planet hates that we're here?
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