![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
trulygifted) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
middaeg2020-08-10 11:46 am
AGURIL CATCH-ALL • OPEN!
When: Throughout Aguril
Where: All over Aefenglom
What: TBA
Warnings: Cussing, child labour, a very brief allusion to potential child injury, more TBA!
1st - 2nd august • poppin' parties.
( It isn't until after she and Siegfried have parted ways following the wedding fashion show that Nico begins feeling a little strange. You'd think that with a best friend as loved-up as Nero she'd be used to talk of vows, romance, and ever-lasting commitment, but the truth of it is that Nico has spent years fortifying herself against that sort of thing. She ducks out of those conversations, leaves Nero and Kyrie to do their thing when they start looking like they're about to start singing to each other, and throws herself into her work to avoid having to think about how all that exacerbates her own insecurities.
Bonding. Marriage. Depending on someone else and having someone else depend on you — even if it's just to make sure your magic doesn't go crazy and destroy someone's flowers again. Nico's understanding of relationships is that it's better to make sure you can survive alone, for all the best years of her life were spent under the wing of her adoptive grandmother. Justifying her self-imposed isolation leaves a bitter taste in the back of her throat, and the best way to deal with that?
Oh yeah. It's alcohol.
Fortunately for Nico, these celebrations are well-stocked with all sorts of silly, fancy drinks. She doesn't bother gathering up the skirts of her dress as she heads to one of the outdoor bars — shit, it isn't like she's going to wear the thing again anyway — and she sweeps a few strands of flyaway hair back from her face where it's loosened from the messy bun. )
Hey! My good-for-nothin' fiancé just left me at the altar, anyone here gonna buy me a drink to commiserate?
( Her makeup is sparse but her lips have been painted a rich wine-red, and they curve into a confident smile as she brandishes her bouquet. )
Don't be shy, now.
9th - 15th august • forging ahead.
( It's taken Nico a while to gather up the things she'll need for her first real test-run at the Forge, but now that they're getting in to Aguril? She thinks it's about time to give it a shot.
She's had to un-learn a lot of what she already knew in order to make sense of the relationship between alchemy and magitech: it's not like back home, and alchemy doesn't work the way it did in her rotten father's notes, but a lot of the core fundamentals of magitech are reasonably mirrored in home-world physics. The kitchen table has been a half-decent workbench so far, but it's time to dream bigger.
Nico is going to need a lot of heat — and a fair bit of magic, too.
With Nero's man-flu all but cleared up she feels less guilty about leaving him home alone, and has gathered up the spare parts she's been collecting into a threadbare sack she found left-over from the cottage's previous residents. The malfunctioning devil breaker is going to be her experiment today: if she can get it to work again at even half the capacity it used to, it'll be a win, and she's hopeful that what she's learned (plus the materials she's gathered) will get her to her goal.
She's half-way to the Forge when the sack, already groaning under the weight of her tools, gives in to the strain of its burden. There's an almighty clatter as scrap metal and spare cogs scatter across the cobbled floor, the din only added to with an exasperated female: )
Fuck!
( Someone give her a hand? )
16th - 22nd august • hazard at the harbour.
( Now, Nico doesn't really like to talk about it all that much, but she's a sucker when it comes to helping out lost-looking kids. It's why she never means it when she complains about being roped into Nero and Kyrie's activity days, and it's why her muffins are practically famous among the children they look after. Nero knows all he'd have to do is call if they needed her to come over and do some minding.
The harbour kids hit that same chord deep within Nico's chest. Child labour? Strike one, because that should have gone out of fashion decades ago. Poor factory conditions? Strike two. If you're going to make orphaned children work, at least have the decency to make sure they're not going to get sick or injured on the job — especially if you've got them working with any kind of machinery.
... And speaking of. )
Now, have you all been listenin' to what I've said here?
( Nico is standing on a crate before an audience of kids with one hand on her hip, while the other gestures towards the machine's mechanism with the head of a screwdriver. )
It should work way better now, and you won't need to jam your fingers in there to unstick the wheels anymore.
( She suppresses a shudder at what might've happened had one of the children been too late in yanking their hand back out again. Nope, not gonna think about that. Moving on. )
If I catch any of you geniuses messin' with my work, don't think I won't come down here an' find you. My best friend? He's a dragon. And— ( She says pointedly, reaching down to procure the basket she'd stashed behind the crate. ) I won't bring you any more of my world famous muffins. Got it?
wildcard + ooc notes!
Or hit me with something else! Prompt dates are just the dates between which I'd prefer these interactions to happen! I'm not fussy about getting specific, it's just so that I can keep an eye on where she is and what she's doing. Feel free to message me any time if you'd like to plot something out, otherwise have at her.
( ooc: This is open to all! Feel free to message me any time if you'd like to plot something out, I can be found on Plurkscry or Discord @ pearls#4530. Thanks! )
Forging Ahead
You okay?
no subject
( Rubbing at his ears ... which definitely don't look like human ears! Nico startles momentarily — she's still getting used to people's changes, okay — but quickly moves past it when she realises that the guy is trying to help. )
Oh— Yeah! Yeah, I'm fine.
( She rakes a hand through her hair before making a vague gesture towards the chaos. )
Just another day endin' in 'y', y'know?
( ... Maybe? That'd work back home, but she isn't so sure about this place. )
no subject
Yeah, that's fair. Y'need help?
no subject
( Nico's eyebrows bump up a little way. )
I mean, if you're up for it, I wouldn't say no!
( An ever so slightly sheepish smile settles on the curve of her lips. )
Looks like I'm gonna need to source another bag - unless you're the kind of person who just carries around a needle an' thread?
( But she's pretty sure those people only exist in fairytales and storybooks. )
no subject
no subject
( And hey, who is Nico to turn down such a generous offer? That smile brightens: )
'Cause man, I'd really appreciate it — and I'll be sure to find a way to say thanks.
no subject
Yeah, no problem! Wait right there!
[And off he goes! It really doesn't take him too long, either; Prompto returns with a bag in about ten minutes.]
Ta-da!
no subject
( Nico doesn't get a chance to comment on the cute curl of his tail as it starts to wag — all of a sudden he's off! She has to hand it to the guy, his enthusiasm is pretty endearing, and by the time he returns Nico has gathered up the majority of her runaway scrap. )
Oh — hey, you weren't kidding about being close, huh?
( She lifts her armful. )
You hold it open, I'll dump it in?
no subject
[Tail still wagging, Prompto holds the bag for the woman. He knows he knows her voice, too, but where...]
no subject
( That wagging catches Nico's eye as she's carefully letting the pieces spill into the bag, and she very nearly drops a piece before righting it in the nick of time. )
Uh ... does it always do that when you're helpin' people out?
( A little tongue in cheek, but then is there really a more "normal" way of bringing up someone's tail? )
no subject
[Wagwag.]
Yeah, it does. Or just if I'm in a good mood. You get used to it.
no subject
( You get used to it, huh? Nico supposes that must be true: most of the people she's seen with more advanced transformations seem to be getting on with their lives just fine, and this guy's canine situation isn't half as extreme as some of the other stuff she's seen. )
Well, it's kinda cute. Suits you, I think.
( She offers a playful wink. )
How'd you feel about keepin' me company on the way to the forge? Just in case there's any more uh ... bag-related mishaps.
no subject
Sure!
[A beat.]
Were you the lady asking about magitek lessons on the network, by the way?
WILD(E)CARD
He'd like to not do that again, thanks.
But luckily for everyone he's on the upswing and just feels mildly icky at this point. That's why he's able to haul his ass back down the stairs in the little cottage to return the (now empty) bowl of soup that Nico had made him to the kitchen where he can wash it. Getting used to their grime in the van is one thing, but the house is starting to look a little too much like that these days. If he had more energy he might actually do something drastic like clean it.
Kyrie would be proud. He guesses it's easier to let things slide when it's your own mess rather than demon bits or that of children.
Nero sighs as he turns the corner into the open archway of the kitchen and...really shouldn't be surprised to not only see Nico's projects all over the only table in there. But also Nico herself, along with a bowl of soup that looks like it's been barely touched.
Nero tilts his head to the side as he steps over and gives it a poke.
Room temperature. Yeah, it's been there for a while.
He sighs and picks up the bowl, fully intending to dump it out and rinse it off with his. ]
no subject
( It isn't unusual for Nico to end up wholly engrossed in her work. It's one of the few things in life she approaches with utmost seriousness: weaponry, research, and bettering her craft are the tools of her independence, and she learned from Nell that she needs to keep them sharp if she's to succeed in the world. Back home she'd been at the cutting edge of her field, but here?
Yeah. There's a lot of work to be done.
Unfortunately, that amount of work comes with a pretty significant amount of mess. With no dedicated workspace to speak of she just has to make of their space what she can: there are parts, books, and potion ingredients stashed all over the place, at the centre of which sits Nico as she pours over what appears to be three books at once. She's sitting with her legs pulled up and crossed on the kitchen chair with her hair twisted up in a messy bun, and appears to be mouthing notes to herself as she scribbles away into one of her increasing number of notebooks.
She doesn't really becoming aware of Nero until he's close enough to poke at her soup, at which point the quill abruptly stops scratching across the paper as a reflexive tense ripples through her body. )
Hey—!
( Exhaling heavily, Nico tosses her quill down onto the table before pushing her glasses up into her hair. She pinches at the bridge of her nose before rubbing her thumb and forefinger over her eyes: )
You're supposed to be restin' up, not sneakin' around gettin' involved with other peoples' soup.
( A beat as she looks him up and down. )
You still hungry? There's still some bread left over from breakfast, if you want it.
no subject
He raises a brow at her scolding, glancing down at the soup, then back at Nico. ]
I've been doing nothing but resting. And your soup's just gonna get gross if you leave it out.
[ But he doesn't actually dump it out. Nero extends his arm back out and offers it. ]
D'you want me to just heat it up?
[ He misses microwaves. So much.
To her offer of bread, he shakes his head. ]
Nah, 'm good. Maybe later...stomach's still settling.
no subject
Oh yeah? You some kinda soup expert now?
( Nico just scoffs, taking the proffered bowl of soup so that she can give it a quick stir. Unfortunately it seems as though Nero might be right: it's cooled off into a kind of gross sludge that doesn't look very appetising at all, and she looks at it dubiously for a moment before handing it back to him. )
Alright, alright, you can make yourself useful and heat it up again for me.
( She might not sound grateful, but she is. The dark shadows under her eyes are testament to how long she's been sitting puzzling over her research. She pushes slumps back in her chair, then pushes her glasses up into her hair so she can rub at her eyes. )
You're lookin' a lot better though, I gotta say. You were really on death's door a few days ago, huh?
( But there's an amused little quirk to her lips, because you bet she's never going to let him life his man-flu down. )
no subject
[ Which is a pretty low bar between them. He's not ungrateful, but he's definitely feeling better enough to give her shit in return. That's a good sign, right?
But he does as she suggests, setting his empty bowl aside and scooping off the rest of her soup back into the pot it was made it. Once it's inside, he squats down to the furnace to light the fire. ]
No. [ He's a little indignant as he shoots Nico a glance over the line of his shoulder. ] It was just a cold. People get 'em all the time, don't they?
[ People that aren't him. Besides the point. He's been a perfectly acceptable patient, okay?
(He's been a bit of a baby.) ]
no subject
Well sure, but I don't think I've ever seen you get sick.
( Said thoughtfully, because it's not something she's actually considered before. It isn't as though Nico has been keeping a record of illness among Devil May Cry, after all, and it's usually more noticeable when someone is sick than when they aren't. Nero catching this cold has thrown into sharp relief the fact that she'd never seen him bedridden and sniffling before. )
Must be somethin' else about this place, I guess. Aefenglom: makes demon boys less demony, since who knows when.
( Nico closes a few books as she speaks, then reaches up to pull the tie from her hair. Maybe it's time to call it a night: she's been sitting there for so long that her whole body is beginning to ache, and if it's got to the point where Nero is having to reheat her dinner ... )
I gotta say though, it was a real power trip! I never get to be stronger than you.
( Have a playful grin. )
You can get sick again any time you want.
no subject
Yeah, that used to be a good thing.
[ Being human has always been the most important. But now that he's lost the power that comes with this whole demon business...
Now what?
He fucking misses it. He hates feeling powerless.
It's talent that Nero can light a match with one hand, but he manages it. With the furnace lit, he turns his attention back to Nico in time to watch her literally and figuratively put her hair down. That's a sign she may actually be taking a break. ]
Fat chance. A sniffle's not gonna keep me down.
[ Except it did.
Not the point. ]
Closing up shop for the night?
no subject
Yup.
( She sighs, letting the day's tension ease from her shoulders as she slumps in her seat. Nico can't remember what time she got started on her work: she didn't intend to sit down for such a length research session, but one footnote led to another, which led to another whole chapter she hadn't yet glanced over ... then all of a sudden it was the middle of the night and Nero was after her soup.
Tch. )
You up for something particular? You better not be plannin' on leavin' the house ...
( But her tone is playful. He's a grown-ass man and she can't stop him from making bad decisions, even if she'd much prefer he at least took an extra day off just to make sure he doesn't take a turn for the worse again. )
no subject
Technical stuff he can handle--as crazy as her dad was, his research notes weren't the worst. But anything flowery and scripture? Hells no. He can only imagine that the stuff available here would fall into the latter category when talking about magic and bullshit.
He motions to the books with his chin. ]
Find anything good? Or are you ready to donate those to the furnace?
[ Just keeping the options open.
Her light chiding gets a snort as he turns back to the pot. It'll take a couple of minutes to really warm up enough, so he'll just concentrate on hand-washing his own bowl in the most literal way. (Hand washing--one hand. Get it?) ]
I'm not gonna lie, I'm starting to get a little stir crazy.
[ But he's also felt like crap, which is enough to keep him on his ass for a few days. ]
Figured it'd be worth it checking that market board stuff tomorrow. It's better than sitting around doing nothing all day.
no subject
... Not sure yet.
( She sighs, looking at the piles of books scattered around in front of her. Some of them have been helpful, yes, but others have only raised more questions, and Nico has spent a good deal of the evening feeling a lot like she's been reading around in circles. It's unlikely she'll admit it outright, but she's actually pretty glad to have a Nero-shaped excuse to give up for the night. )
Hm. I guess you do look like you're over the worst of it.
( He's up and washing dishes, for one, which can only be a good sign. )
Maybe if there's somethin' that ain't gonna get you kicked around like a rag-doll ... I mean, sometimes people just want you to go an' collect apples and flowers an' stuff.
( It doesn't always have to be weird bits of giant snail shell, for all Nico is appreciative! )
Poppin'!
He's managed to at least make enough coin to buy soap at this point, and is wearing the brig reds of his leathers from the mountain so he cannot easily be missed in a sea of white. His red doublet is mostly unbuttoned
(the medieval equivalent of sexy cleavage), his lute strapped to his back. Of course, even if he wasn't exactly invited to perform, he suspects not many would complain outright --He spies possibly one of the most beautiful women he's ever seen. Jaskier abruptly ducks around several men to find her again, not especially turned off by the white wedding gear she's clothed in (which does not leave much of her form to the imagination. Has he mentioned he adores the fashion here?)
She may have been saying that to someone else, but Jaskier, hoo boy. He knows invitations when he sees them.
And he has never been shy a day in his life. He snakes in beside her at the bar, adjusting his lute to possibly block any interference from behind him.]
My lady! Curses upon the sort of man so foolish as to leave a vision like you behind! [He's already dropping a few cunes on the bar. He's a sucker for a damsel, and also he could use a drink himself. This is 100% win/win.] What would you like? If you must drown your sorrows, you're welcome to whatever your heart desires!
no subject
( Now, never a day in her life has Nico been referred to as my lady, which has her eyebrows bumping up towards her hairline as the guy gets comfortable next to her. Honestly? While it's definitely funny, it's also kind of flattering, especially when he turns it up a notch and decides to call her a vision along with it. That is certainly appreciated: one of the stylists at the fashion show had suggested covering her tattoos so that they didn't "spoil the fantasy", which had prompted Nico to put voice to her protests in — yeah, pretty strong terms.
... Anyway. This guys is putting in the work, which is precisely what she needs to distract herself from how weird she's been feeling in this stupid dress. )
Well, shit, you're just about a perfect gentleman, ain't you?
( Her smile becomes a grin as she looks him up and down. He's full of dashing charm, there's no denying that, and is that ... some kind of guitar on his back? What with the unbuttoned doublet he's got going on it definitely lends itself to the "old-timey fuckboy" look, which has Nico's grin widening just a little as she leans back against the bar. If nothing else? At least he'll be able to play her a song. )
Since you're buyin', how about we get a pitcher of beer to split? I could use the company.
( She gives his elbow a friendly smack with her bouquet: )
You got a name, handsome?
no subject
Oh, and a glance at his lute, too. Perhaps a little later. In a quieter sort of place.]
A pitcher it is. I'd be delighted to share.
[He only glances away to call for the bartender, pulling his lute off from around his shoulders to prop it up by his legs. Ah, just in time to get hit with flowers. The small bump releases a pleasant smell. He takes that as a rather good omen for the night.] My lady, you may call me Jaskier. Absolutely at your service. [He can't so much bow as he often does, but he does dip his head.] And you? I must say, you have one of the most fascinating accents I've ever heard. I take it you are not from here, either?
no subject
( Absolutely at her service? That sounds good to Nico, whose smile grows that bit wider as Jaskier moves to settle in for at least one round. This could end up being a pretty interesting evening, huh? )
Nicoletta Goldstein — but you can just call me Nico.
( She says with a wink, setting an elbow on the bar as their jug is placed between them. Taking it upon herself to do the honours of filling their cups, Nico nudges a full tankard over to Jaskier before taking a deep pull from her own. )
And you got me there: Mirrorbound, just like you.
( A vague gesture is made towards his ensemble as she slants a grin over the rim of her drink. )
You seem to be fittin' in just fine though. Witch or Monster?
no subject
He breathes. Fuck. This place has, at least, very promising alcohol.]
Just like me indeed. [He laughs. He gets her meaning: quite obvious, isn't it? Well, he certainly doesn't dress like plenty of other people in Aefenglom. He does like to keep his taste from home.] Oh, is that not a rude question here? I always assumed it was. Not, of course, that I'm insinuating you're rude, Nico. [Mostly because he didn't want to ask the wrong person.] I'm a witch. [The word feels completely strange applied to himself.] And you? I notice you have neither horns nor scales as well.
no subject
( Nico just shrugs. )
Maybe? I dunno, just seems more like a practical question to me. Helps to know who you're dealin' with, y'know?
( For example: she's heard there are vampires around, and while the thought is equally as amazing as it is unsettling? She'd be accommodating towards people with needs that different to hers. Swirling her beer, Nico enjoys another sip before letting a broad smile settle on her lips: )
But you're a witch, huh? Me too — no horns or scales for me, which is more than I can say for my housemate.
( Nero is sporting scales, after all, and she's keeping half an eye on his forehead just in case he starts developing cute little nubs. )
Let's toast, then: to learnin' magic!
( She lifts her cup, then pauses for a moment as something occurs to her. )
... Unless you already knew that kinda stuff from back home?
no subject
[Well, not the issue, but the... relatively large creature in the room, with every new meeting. At least he had, so far, not managed to insult anyone too terribly over it. He imagines some must be sensitive about the changes. Like Geralt, even if the fool would never, ever admit it.
Understandable, at least in his case.
He doesn't dwell on the thought. With tankard already in hand, he clinks it against hers. To learning!] Absolutely not a chance! [He takes a deep draw, then does that soft ahh after swallowing. If anything was good here, it certainly was the alcohol.] I'm a simple bard. I've never met a single one with a drop of magic in them. The real magic sort are too busy fighting in wars and, I don't know, brewing potions in rotting cabins in the middle of a bog.
[He could definitely picture Yennefer doing the latter.]
no subject
( A bard, is he? Well, that certainly explains the instrument at his feet, and Nico laughs easily as she tosses the little bouquet of flowers onto the bar. )
Well whaddya know, you're my first bard. I mean, I knew a few guys back home who were doin' the whole "I'm in a band" thing, but ...
( Aefenglom is different, and she's pretty sure that Jaskier is different too. She can't help but snort at his dismissive comment on what he imagines "real" magic-users get up to in their free time. She has no problems with the potions part — not even back home, although she would have called her work "science" as opposed to "magic" — but the bog? )
I guess we're gonna be bucking the trend then, huh? You don't look like the bog type.
( She gives him a pointed once-over: his doublet is loosened in a roguish manner, yes, but his outfit is still clearly a well-tailored ensemble. Jaskier has a distinctly more people-friendly vibe than the common or garden bog witch. )
How're you findin' it anyway? The magic, I mean. Set anythin' on fire yet?
no subject
He takes another swig. Ah. Good company, good drink. This is quite a night.]
I would not be caught dead in a bog, trust me. [Well. Except when he was following Geralt into one. Which was decidedly unsexy to talk about right now, especially with a woman in wedding attire. You know, he was beginning to wonder if there was, actually, a runaway groom involved here.]
He doesn't miss the look. And if his doublet only opens a bit more, then it's probably not an accident, displaying curly tufts of hair across his chest.] I'm only admitting it because we are becoming close confidants, but, er. Yes. I did set a bit of forest on fire. I really don't recommend jumping head-first into that sort of spell. [So he switched to something less... decidedly lethal.] And you? I don't see any soot marks anywhere.
no subject
( Nico laughs at his confession, although it turns into a little snort as she tries to stifle it with the back of her hand. )
Yeah, no soot marks today, but I had a similar kinda mishap. I uh—
( She wrinkles her nose just a touch. )
Kinda set a friend's gardening project on fire? I think he's forgiven me though — I made him some apology muffins.
( And you know, who could stay cross with someone after receiving a batch of home-baked goods? Not even Sephiroth, apparently, although Nico's pretty sure he wasn't actually that bothered in the first place. He's an odd one, that man, but then she supposes the same can be said of most of Aefenglom's Mirrorbound — including herself. )
It's actually kinda funny, really, since we're all still learnin'. A few weeks back a guy was tryin' to help me out of a tricky spot with some bats, and he thew this bomb — but instead of goin' off proper? It just puffed a load of smoke in his face!
( Is she talking about Geralt? Yes. As for who made the "bomb" ... Nico just grins, oblivious to the fact that it's Jaskier's work at which she's poking fun. )
It was hard not to laugh. He seemed really ... serious.
backdated for full moon shenans
What is she doing? He wonders, but he does more than just wonder — he needs to know, feels the urge to descend upon her and learn why she treads a path beneath him, caught in the moonlight that pierces through the trees. And with his inhibitions no longer kept wound tight, Sephiroth does not hesitate to follow through.
The sound of massive wings beating, grown even larger, fuller, under the Sisters. Sephiroth is nothing but a mass of black feathers and silver hair swirling behind him, a shadow that blots out moonlight as he passes over her, and the crescent silver-smile of Masamune glinting brightly. He lands with an impossibly soft thud, boots pressed firmly to the earth, and unfurls himself to his full height: he is all the large wings of a bird of prey, whose flight feathers are so long they touch the ground; he is sharp eyes that glow in the dark and pointed ears that peek through hair laden with these same feathers; he is taloned hands, too, one that grips the hilt of Masamune and the other that gestures closely.
After all, he’s landed so near that he might have alighted on her were he off by a foot or two. Given his ghost of a smile, that may have been purposeful.]
Out here on a night like this one. I wonder why?
no subject
( Nico isn't like Nero. She can handle herself in a fistfight and when she picks up a gun, she'll show you what a master markswoman looks like, but it's never been her job to get involved with the actual hunting side of Devil May Cry. She doesn't have those extra-sharp senses, doesn't know what it's like to be considered prey, and there's no warning prickle at the back of her neck to tell her when she's being watched. Even so, when she heads into the Wilde it's with the confidence of someone who's used to danger — someone who thinks she stands a fighting chance should that danger creep up on her.
This time she's hoping to gather some of the herbs she's read about in her research. Apparently some of the Wilde-grown plants find their properties enhanced beneath the full light of the Sisters; it doesn't make much sense to Nico, but she's of a mind to use them in Nero's pain relief to see if it increases its efficacy. She doesn't mention that her magic feels a little wobbly before she leaves the cottage, nor does she specify where she's going, only that she needs to "pick up a few things" to help him with the inevitable hangover he's going to be experiencing tomorrow.
In hindsight, perhaps that was foolish. Perhaps she should have given that warning the attention it deserved.
There's only a split second between the weight of that wing-beat and Sephiroth's appearance before her. He drops out of the darkness and into a pale shaft of light without so much as a ripple of disturbance, forcing Nico to jerk to a halt lest she end up face first in his chest. It's obviously him — she opens her mouth, ready to give him an earful for giving her such a fright, but the little tirade dies in the back of her throat before she can put voice to her complaints.
Sephiroth is a strangely beautiful man (c'mon, Nico isn't blind) but she's never thought he looked terrible before — not with his wings folded back, his hair in a low tie, and his fingers damp with soil. This version of that man drops a pearl of cold into her core, where it reaches out to her extremities and chills an icy track down the curve of her spine. )
Well apparently I'm lookin' for a heart attack — which you just gave me, so thanks for that.
( He's too close. Nico looks up at him warily, her gaze lingering on the wicked glint of his talons before sliding over the curve of his sword, and takes a very careful step backwards just to introduce a little space between them. )
... I'm gettin' herbs for Nero. There's some good stuff out here for painkiller potions, an' the moons might make them stronger.
( She lifts her chin in a little bob towards the blade. )
What're you doin' out? Expectin' trouble?
no subject
He considers her with a cant to his head. His predator’s eyes add a strange glow to the planes of his features, lightly awash with that telltale, mako green.]
Herbs? [What a mundane notion, to risk the danger of the Cwyld-infected and, ironically, the interest of the Monsters who might seek refuge beyond the city walls so that they can let their instincts exist unchecked. She is flirting with danger without even knowing it — this amuses him, entices him to offer what she might not have been outwardly seeking, but has found all the same.]
You take a risk coming out here just to look for herbs. Didn’t I warn you about the creatures in the Wilde that might take an interest in someone unescorted?
[Case in point: the silver sheen of Masamune moves, glints, and Sephiroth has moved it from the line of his back. He holds it out before him, that impossibly long curve of steel now starkly present, demanding attention. Its length glides past her; practically entraps her on one side.]
I think you should practice defending yourself; in case trouble does come your way.
[Somehow, trouble might already be here in the form of a SOLDIER, a swordsman, a Harpy with calamity in his veins.]
no subject
( That pale crescent lowers to her side, and its cold light pierces Nico with a sense of unease she hadn't necessarily expected to feel around this man. They'd gardened together, right? She broken in her apron for him; Sephiroth is the reticent type, no doubt about that, but she'd assumed that made them at least something like acquaintances. Is the full light of the Sisters truly enough to make someone turn into an asshole? )
If you're so worried why don't you just offer to be my escort, huh?
( He knows Nico is an engineer by trade. He knows she knows that he was a child soldier — one who's spent his life training in a private army for some creepy power company. What exactly does Sephiroth hope to achieve with an impromptu practice session? Does he imagine this won't end with her sprawled across the ground? )
Not that there's any need — I can take care of myself.
( She cups her hands in front of herself and concentrates, her eyes flaring bright amber as a sizeable orb of fire twists itself into existence between her palms. Separating them out into two, Nico lifts them demonstratively before raising an eye at the man before her: )
See? Witch stuff; I'm all good, baby.
( An easy grin slants across her lips in an attempt to smooth out this little ... misunderstanding? )
Now, don't make me have to throw these at you an' mess up that pretty face.
no subject
A part of him is sure she won’t disappoint.
Nico lights a flame in her hands and warmth blossoms in a hazy circle around them, casting their shadows deep and long across the ground. Her threat only acts as the spark that causes him to commit to the game — he likes her bravado, likes the farce of that magic being enough to stop him. They might as well be little more than flickering embers thrown against a storm.
Sephiroth takes a long step back, offering more space between them.]
I want you to. That, or run, winding through the trees as you try to escape.
[His smile is sincere; but so utterly different than the subtle thing he presented her before, with their fingers pressed into the cool soil of a fresh planter.]
Fight or flight,—
[There’s an arcing flash of silver that passes by, missing her by purposeful centimeters at most. Masamune might have cleaved across her front if she had moved only a fraction in that moment — it’s a warning, an encouragement, a figurative cracked whip to get her adrenaline soaring and her body reacting.]
—decide now.
no subject
... Escape?
( Nico looks at him hard, pinpricks of amber slipping from her palms to fizzle out against the ground as a beat of silence stretches between them. She notices for the first time that Sephiroth seems somehow wrong: his smile is sincere but predatory, his eyes are bright but wickedly piercing, and the part of him that wants to play has been steeped in something a little more cruel than she would have expected from him. It's unsettling, to say the least. Nico was beginning to enjoy the company of the man who taught her how to plant bulbs in the Coven's greenhouse, but this? The Moons have turned him into someone recognisable but not; someone different enough to put her on her guard. )
You're serious, ain't—
( The tip of his sword skims across the front of her chest, so close that for one awful beat Nico wonders whether she isn't about to split open in front of him. It catches her breath in her throat, makes gooseflesh rise to her skin and her pupils tighten with fear, and the thud of her heart flushes hotter, louder, as it quickens to a distracting pound. )
... Fine.
( Fear, it turns out, is one hell of an emotion. The woods seem to reel around them as she speaks through the onslaught of her panicked senses, her body translating it into a kind of morbid excitement in the hopes it might help her survive. Every cell seems to thrum with it. )
If that's what you want, let's do this — but you're gonna have to catch me first.
( First left, then right. Nico hurls the fireballs towards him before turning to sprint into the trees; she needs to buy herself a little time to pull her magic to the surface again and shape it into something useful. Branches and bushes are pushed aside as she wills the shimmer in her veins to just respond — but where the full moons strengthen the Monsters, they leech the Witches of the one thing that could protect them. )
Fuck, fuck— come on!
no subject
But for now, she flees. And he takes to the sky.
The branches, rather, of the shivering trees high above their heads. Landing on one branch to propel to another, they shake and groan beneath the furor of his energy and excitement. He can hear her as she weaves through the underbrush, thinks that he might feel every vibration of her breath in her lungs — or her heart pulsing in her throat — but perhaps that’s imagined on his part, a predator's instinct given to fantastic notions of what sensations could await him should he catch his prey.
He doesn’t mean her any true harm, of course, but one might be hard-pressed to believe that if they saw what was transpiring: his relentless pursuit with every protest of leaves above, the glint of deadly steel in his hands, and a pointed descent to the ground to cut off her route. For a moment, her vision may swell with only black feathers as he swoops just above her, landing in her path in a half-crouch. His arm sweeps out, and Masamune’s cutting arc follows. Bramble and forest detritus is cut clean in half.
A clear warning — or a proverbial cat playing with a mouse?]
Not fast enough. What will you do now?
no subject
( When Nico chances a glance back over her shoulder it's to see that Sephiroth is gone, which she immediately decides is far worse than watching him approach in that swirl of dark-feathered steel. She isn't naive enough to imagine he's given up: he's a winged, military hunter with predatory urges drawn out by the moons, and a tell-tale rustle from overhead confirms a theory already sinking low into her stomach. He doesn't give her the time it would take to look up; Nico skids to a halt as he lands in front of her again, the bright flash of his sword forcing her body into an odd little skip back. )
Hey!
( He's enjoying himself, she realises. Sephiroth is enjoying making her fight, watching her run, swatting out with his sword just just to relish the reaction, and her cheeks flush pink with frustrated humiliation as she lifts her chin again. )
Is this just what you do on the full moons, huh?
( She lifts her hands again, but the flame sputters out before it manages to form an orb. A tight breath sticks in her throat as her heartbeat knocks a little harder, the rush of it loud in her ears as she forces herself to meet Sephiroth's gaze again. )
Get out your acorn-dick energy sword an' mess with people?
( Nico tries a one-handed orb this time — it's weaker, smaller, and successful because of it, and her face lights up for a moment as she winds back her arm to throw it at Sephiroth. It feels pathetic, but she doesn't care. Her aim is to show him that even scared, even hopelessly outmatched, she isn't going to give up. Bolstered by her own bravado, Nico takes a step forwards this time as though weighing up marching right into his space and giving him a shove. )
Well fuck you!
( ... No. She's wearing a dress, for fuck's sake, not something she can scrap in, and so instead of stomping forwards she opts to try and pull another little fireball into existence again. )
no subject
She’s so bold, though, tossing another fireball his way. This time, Sephiroth allows it to graze him, catching hungry embers across his left wing. It's warm as they singe a handful of plumes, but he spreads the appendages wide — such massive, dark things — and the fire dies under the momentum, wisping smoke behind him.
It would be so easy to down her. She’s no SOLDIER, not some corporate-created super soldier to be used for war. But he doesn’t want to end this too quickly, preferring to give her a passing, sporting chance instead. Nico looks as though she might walk right up to him, and he indulges her, doing the same in long, singular strides with wings flared at his back.
He turns Masamune point-downward, and sinks it into the earth. It sticks and stays there, a long stretch of steel, and he leaves it behind him as he approaches. Sephiroth doesn’t need it. Maybe that’s an insult to her, but to a moon-added brain, it is a practicality to make the encounter last.]
No sword then.
[The gap between them closes, air heavy. Tension surely about to snap with a move by either one of them.]
Is that better?
no subject
( Nico's breath stutters in the back of her throat as Sephiroth closes the space between them, silver-pale yet somehow dark as the night encroaching in on them from all sides. It thrills through her body like so much electricity — keeps her rooted to the spot as her gaze snags on the luxurious spread of his wings — and her pupils pinprick on yet another rush of adrenaline that floods its way through her core.
No, this isn't better. This is deeply, arrestingly worse, in no small part because of how easily he rids himself of his sword. Sephiroth is a man confident enough to hunt with little more than his own physicality, and that has Nico's pulse thundering in her throat. When she speaks again it's a just a little breathless, just a little ragged around the edges: )
... You're a real piece of work, you know that?
( But the tension is too much, and Nico is bold — bold enough to try one last attempt to throw him off. She wreathes her hand in a weak shimmer of flame and curls her fingers into a fist, which she pulls back and swings on a wild trajectory to connect with Sephiroth's jaw. It feels like a desperate, slightly manic gesture, if only because she already doubts that she'll land her hit, but she refuses to let herself be cowed when he hasn't so much as touched her. )
no subject
Talons reach out and grasp at the wrist belonging to the hand that had just struck him. He aims to pull her forward, yanking unkindly, as though to keel her balance awry and keep captive the origin of her magic — her fingertips — in the same motion.
Close like this, he is certain he can feel the blood throbbing in her veins. The temptation to feel the heartbeat in her neck manifests into action, his free hand coming up to slide across and just under her jaw, where he can feel the quick-fire tapping of her pulse beneath. It’s exciting, in a way, to have this kind of control; to feel delicate anatomy housed in someone so openly rebellious.
So near that his hair might tickle her face and neck, he says—]
Your magic’s weak. What happened to the flame that destroyed my flowers?
[He almost laughs, breathy and barely-heard.]
I wish I could show you what mine could do, once. [In an admission pulled forth by the addling nature of the moons, and the moons only—] I’ve been told it razes entire towns. I think yours could, too — with enough practice. That would make the hunt more interesting. You'd put up more of a fight then, wouldn't you?
no subject
( Nothing. Her punch does nothing — it doesn't even leave a mark — and Nico realises that this might be the first time she's ever experienced feeling truly powerless. Back home her guns have always kept her safe enough, even if all they did was hold back the demons until Nero arrived, but this time there's no Devil Hunter coming to make mincemeat of this particular ... problem.
Sephiroth isn't an enemy — not really. He's just a vicious, beautiful nuisance.
He pulls her in closer, setting her off her axis and leaving her wobbling a little as he lifts her hand up higher. He's — those are talons, real talons setting against the tender skin inside her wrist, although the fact that they don't pierce supports the idea that he really is just outside looking for fun. Sephiroth has had plenty of opportunities to do her harm — more than she cares to think about, really — and yet here he is, leaning in close to share her warmth and talk about his flowers. )
R-Razes entire towns, huh?
( Nico makes an irritable sound in the back of her throat when she realises that inherited stutter is back. A deep breath follows, then a long exhale, as she tries to get ahold of herself again. )
Sounds like they were talkin' from experience. Is that really somethin' to brag about? Wiping out whole towns like they're nothin'?
( She grits her teeth, squirming just a little to test the strength of his grasp. )
Think I'll just stick to gettin' strong enough to deal with the assholes creepin' the woods at night, if it's all the same to you.