◣ OPEN ◢

[sunmon]

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

& 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. ]

Comments

[sunmon]

I asked what you would call the shredder moles, Sir. Not what you'd call me. [ there's a hint of a smile in her voice, but it has a knife's edge. she would love to be trouble for him, the way he has been for her. he deserves the favor repaid. it melts away, however, as she turns back to him, head tilted in deference. the apt pupil. ] Like the Cut?

[morozova]

I have other words for you.

( 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. )

[sunmon]

[ a smile starts before she can help it, her hands raising to touch the little black butterflies. they aren't quite tangible. and the smile fades as soon as she realizes why he might have mastered this trick.

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.

[morozova]

Generally the practice is to master something smaller before moving onto larger, more ambitious shapes.

( 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.

[sunmon]

[ she sighs. just like his mother, then. protests won't get her anywhere. alina raises her hands and summons a small orb of light which ripples and undulates like a living thing.

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. ]

[morozova]

( he does have the good grace to not look smug. although the corner of his mouth does twitch, briefly ㅡ an almost smile. her frustration is a feeling he knows all too well. )

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?

[sunmon]

[ mal's eyes. the memory stings of betrayal and abandonment. alina closes her hands and the sun winks out. ]

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. ]

[morozova]

Better.

( 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.

[sunmon]

[ something warm shoots through her. the sun flares brighter in her hands even though there is no direct contact. he's no amplifying her. she's just excited.

a flush rises in her face. she shrugs her shoulders as if to release it, stiffer now. she resents that reaction in herself. ]

How long ago was that?

[morozova]

I'm not sure I remember.

( sincerely enough. if he were to guess he'd assume somewhere in the vicinity of five hundred. ) I was ten, perhaps eleven before I could do anything truly impressive.

( not because he'd lacked the ability but because they were traveling often. and often under scrutiny. )

I used to use the shadows to tell myself stories.

[sunmon]

[ worst of all, she doesn't know whether to believe it's true. she turns her head to regard him, expression softened. he's so close, she can't help but consider the soft curve of his mouth and recognize how deeply in over her head she is. ]

You said it yourself. I don't have time to learn slowly. No stories. I need a weapon. [ she forces the light into shape. it takes on the shape of a baby bunny more solidly. ]

[morozova]

You are the weapon. I'm just helping you to hone your edges.

( he sounds just like his mother. the irony of this isn't lost on him, though he's grateful baghra isn't here to witness it. baghra had done enough damage already. )

But you have a little time. That is, perhaps, one of the few advantages of this place.

[sunmon]

You're not worried about what West Ravka will do with the Sun Summoner and the Black General absent?

[ it seems like the perfect opportunity to strike, if they were interested in civil war. it would be impossible for east ravka to do anything about it. it doesn't feel like they have time. it feels like the cracks in ravka will grow wider and deeper until the country shatters before they can return. ]

Every moment we're here, they could be doing anything.

[morozova]

I'm very worried.

( his composure doesn't slip so much as he allows it to drop. nothing she's saying hasn't occurred to him already, playing over and over in his mind.

he's not sure, precisely, what will happen if alina is truly from a different point in time. if, perhaps, there's another alina and another aleksander waiting for them. if there is, well... alina's ravka will not be unguarded. he would be there, hunting her.

he doubts she would be comforted to know that, though. to know just what happens after she escapes the little palace. )

But I can either rage against something that cannot presently be changed or I can use that energy toward more useful. Which do you believe helps us more?

[sunmon]

Sorry.

[ she averts her gaze. she can see how it would seem belittling for her to share her adolescent ideas like they hadn't occurred to a centuries old general. she swallows and refocuses her attention on the rabbit.

with further concentration, it hops. moving the construct is not so hard as holding its shape. the ears lose form a bit as it moves. ]

[morozova]

Don't be.

( his voice softens. ) I can hardly call you my equal and not be willing to hear your thoughts. Even when I'm not used to someone being quite so frank with me.

( baghra doesn't count. )

Impressive. ( it's sincerely said. ) Your power is a living thing. Part of you. This, generally, is difficult for older students to grasp. But you're taking to it like it's second nature.

[sunmon]

[ a surge of pride flares in her chest. bright as the light she makes. she resents that feeling, the way she blooms under his praise, under the possibility of being his equal. she tries to strangle it, and the light goes out with it. ]

I let go of what was holding me back. That's all.

[morozova]

Letting go of any part of our past is often easier said than done.

( luda's ghost had haunted him for decades. the fold remains a constant, stubborn reminder of so many of his failures. )

I'm glad that it no longer weighs on you, whatever it was.

[sunmon]

Whoever.

[ she mutters it with some reluctance. ]

Not what. Who.

[ it shouldn't matter, the distinction. but it does. mal was a person who disappointed her just like kirigan had. she's beginning to learn that resting any of herself on a person is a grave error. if she wants freedom for herself — and peace for ravka — she needs to rely on her own power. ]

[morozova]

( ah.

it's strange to be having this conversation with her now, knowing that as soon as the tracker shows his face again, she's so quick to forgive him. he swallows back something bitter, sharp, and instead inclines his head as if to concede the point. )

It does get easier.

( or the pain, at least, gets easier to bear. which is about the same thing. )

[sunmon]

Does it?

[ she shouldn't have brought up mal. the wound is fresh. open. and she bristles instantly at kirigan trying to be the one to salve it with what feels like platitudes. ]

Or did you just get enough power to surround yourself with enough people who adore you that you never have to think about the ones who left?

[ her voice is brittle with the insinuation that not everyone can be so fortunate as to insulate themselves from their pain that way. ]

[morozova]

( she's striking out because she's raw, the wound still fresh, and he should perhaps feel guilty about that given the lengths he'd gone to in order to drive a wedge between the two of them.

instead, he lets the moment breathe.

then: ) It's not the ones that leave that haunt me.

[sunmon]

No?

[ she can't say more. can't bring herself to because she knows the next words out of her mouth would be, is it the ones you murdered? the ones you transformed into monsters?

instead, she just lets out a shaky breath, releasing some of her anger that way. ]

[morozova]

No.

( no further explanations are offered. he's not precisely sure where he'd begin, even if he were inclined to slit himself open and bare all to her.

her accusation stings more than he'd like to admit. is that really what she thinks of him? )

[sunmon]

[ her gaze drops. she studies his boots, dirtier now than she's ever seen them. ]

Sorry.

[ it's going to happen to her too, isn't it? but losing people to death would involve having people to begin with. who did she have left? genya? nina? they could both be loyal to kirigan. mal was gone. balthier and natasha would only be there for her as long as she remained here, on raia, and they weren't as long-lived as grisha as far as she knew. certainly not as long-lived as the likes of kirigan. ]

I'm just ... frustrated. [ powerless — what good is a power she can't use to defend herself, to fight him? — and alone. terribly alone. ]