middaeg | [open/ota] still got a lot of fight left in me

[ With her experience in the Sector 7 Slums, it's not hard to get herself a part time job at the Sordid Shield, the opportunity for which Tifa jumped at the moment she heard about it. Not only can she tend bar and wait on customers, with her training in martial arts she can operate as a bouncer too; the tavern is in need of people regardless, but the combination of skills makes her an excellent hiring choice, able to act in any role depending on who else they can schedule for the day.

Today, she's working as a bartender, mixing the various drinks the tavern offers and making occasional small-talk with the patrons. So far, it's been a relatively quiet shift, but her vambraces are on under her long-sleeved shirt, gloves tucked under the counter just in case.

She's been considering since her arrival the potential for opening her own place, and being here, back among it all - even though it's only been a few shifts so far - has only strengthened the idea in her mind. It's comfortable, probably moreso than any other part of her stay in Aefenglom has been so far; unlike everything else that goes on here, being behind the bar is just like being back home.

The door jingles as it opens, and Tifa looks up, offering a smile to the next person who heads for the bar. The words on her lips are familiar, as comfortable as the job itself: ]

What'll it be?

[ It's rare Geralt is ever any one place long enough or returns frequently enough to develop a preference for a certain tavern. Besides, most villages have just one tavern, and that's pretty much what you get, shit beer and all.

But being trapped in Aefenglom for the past few months means he's found a favorite or two. It's at one of them that he steps inside to escape the heavily falling snow: as little as the cold bothers him, the wet is another story. Especially now, with the thick fur on his tail that takes a damn eon to dry out.

He slides into his preferred spot near the corner of the bar, away from windows and where he can keep an eye on the door. ]

Just an ale. [ There's a brief pause. His tail is undeniably dripping -- hard to notice when he'd been walking outside and much more so now on the tavern's floors. Ah, fuck. It may or may not truly be from the snowfall by itself or because he fell into a snowbank. Geralt will neither confirm nor deny. ] And a towel. If you don't mind.

[ For just a moment, she's a little taken aback by the newcomer's appearance. The ears and tail make her think immediately of Cloud, the white hair of Sephiroth, which all in all is a rather unsettling combination for her to deal with. She's hardly about to be impolite to a stranger on account of their appearance, though, especially not one who's currently acting as a customer to an establishment from which she's earning a small living.

So she offers him a smile, a nod, and a towel before the ale. Only once he has both does Tifa grab a mop to start cleaning up the mess his dripping tail made of the floor, her movements smooth and practiced.

It's a lot - more than there should be just for a walk in the snow, she thinks. ]

What happened to you out there? [ Her tone is friendly, maybe with just a hint of teasing around the edges. She's certainly not going to poke fun, but it's also pretty clear that he's been through something, whether he's willing to open up about it or not. ]

[ He takes the towel, drying himself off before he can make more of a mess. His mind is clearly elsewhere, though he offers a sincere if gruff sound that might be a thank you.

A pause, mid-scrubbing of his tail. Good question. He's not about to openly say he fell, but. ]

Roads are icy.

[ He's been distracted for more than a handful of reasons the past few days. And though his appearance is rarely all that put together in the first place, it might be even easier to see now how little attention he's paid to it: hair unbrushed, bruises on his knuckles.

Geralt drops the wet towel in his lap. ] Sorry about the...

[ Floor. He gestures. ]

[ Tifa is quick to shake her head, a small, playful grin on her lips. He would hardly be the first of their patrons to make a mess of the floor, even in her short time working here. Besides... ]

Hey, I'll take icy water on the floor over the alternatives.

[ Some people really can not handle their drink. Back in the Slums, it was easy for her to turf them out before they got to that point, but when she's just a part-timer...

The grin fades, though, as she looks him over again, properly seeing now that she's closer how unkempt the man is, injured to boot, and—

Oh. She can help that, maybe. Tifa brandishes a small vial of thick green liquid at him. ]

Fair warning that I'm still kind of new here, so this is kind of experimental. But it should help you with your bruises.

[ True enough. Geralt is about to return to his drink when a small vial wanders into his vision.

He pauses. Does he look that bad? (Probably.) ]

Not going to turn me into a toad?

[ A sniff tells him there's nothing strange in it, at least. Well, he's experimented with Jaskier's potions plenty. He pops the cork and tips it back: it slides down his throat, cold and a little slimy. ]

[ Tifa grins in response to the statement, the upward turn of her lips playful. ]

You might not believe this, but I've been a toad. [ She's also seen some of her best friends as toads, and while the image was certainly a funny one... ] I wouldn't willingly inflict that on anyone!

[ And she's pretty sure she's not actively terrible enough at alchemy to have done it by accident, either. ]

You're safe, I promise.

[ Even as she's saying that, though, the man is downing the potion, and despite her confidence that she hasn't turned him into an amphibian of any sort, there's a gentle anxiety about whether or not it will do anything more than taste weird. But as always, she does her best not to show that, instead just offering him another smile, one that's gentler this time, as she goes back to cleaning up the floor.

Honestly, with how rough around the edges he looks, she can't help but wonder... ]

Did you want to talk about it? I know we're strangers, but sometimes that makes it easier.

[ She's what? He lifts an eyebrow. It's less that she's been a toad -- curses of all kinds befall folks everywhere -- and more that she recounts it with such casual ease. Most don't take being cursed into another creature too well. ]

Don't tell me a kiss at midnight freed you.

[ He slides the little vial back across the counter. It does help, a bit; a dulling of the aches in his joints. Though sometimes he can't tell what's recent and what's not, when a pain flares up.

Geralt considers. She sounds sincere. A rare thing, sincerity. His reply is wry, skirting a real answer. ]

Things do tend to be easier when everyone's a stranger.

[ He'd lived most of his life that way. It's simpler, not caring. ]

[ Even as she accepts the vial back from the man, Tifa can't help but laugh at his answer. It's a fair question, likely to be the truth of the matter in any number of fanciful fables told to children at their bedtimes; she's sure that if she'd had time to tell Marlene about it, she'd have asked exactly the same question, albeit with her usual wide eyes and childish curiosity. ]

It's a spell cast by some monsters back on my world. It never lasts for long, but some vendors sell a tincture that will cure it more quickly.

[ She grins. ]

It's called a "Maiden's Kiss", so maybe there's some truth in the stories after all?

[ In response to that wry comment, though, she raises a brow. She knows this type all too well. ]

Easy, sure. But lonely too. Having some friends is always better than not, right?

[ With a smile, she puts the mop aside, having dealt with the worst of the wet for now. The offer will remain open, but she won't push; if he chooses to take it, it's his business. ]

[ Geralt considers that with a noncommittal hum. ] Barkeeping sounds hazardous for you.

[ A strange world, where there're enough common folk being turned into toads that vendors are around selling tinctures on hand. Critical market, apparently.

He leaves the offer where it is. She doesn't press, which he at least appreciates. Besides, he doubts he's been the only one coming in here, carrying some wound or another from that incident. ]

Were you there? [ He studies her. He doesn't recall seeing her at the party -- but he'd been focused on finding Jaskier more than anything. ]

[ She chuckles, shakes her head. Barkeeping itself isn't so bad; the Slums are usually fenced off well enough, and the occasional patrol is enough to keep the strange creatures that live in the wilds from trying to get inside. The hazards are usually the drunkards who don't know when to stop, who pick fights with anyone over anything, even her when she tries to cut them off.

But she's more interested in what he says next.

Unless there was some other event recently big enough for him to assume she knew it, but still went somehow unknown to her - which admittedly is possible, given the state her magic left her in at the start of the month - he has to mean the party.

Tifa nods. ]

I was. We went to rescue a friend. You too, right?

Something like that.

[ Rescue sounds too elegant of a word. He dragged Jaskier and Killua out of there, and he's not so certain he saved them from much at all. Jaskier no longer looks like he's on death's door, but traces of the infection linger. He's found himself keeping a careful eye on it, in case it starts to spread again.

Still. They're alive. He suspects there are others who can't say the same. ]

You found them?

[ The first time she visits, with some leftover food from one of her shifts, Tifa realizes that the Outer City reminds her in many ways of the Sector 7 Slums. Perhaps it's for that reason that she ends up putting her name down to help Miss Bell in her efforts outside the wall. With the needs of the populace being so many, she tries to help in as many ways as she can; on some days, she works with more experienced witches to brew and mix the various medicines required; on others, she can be found, masked and gloved, administering said medicine to the infected; on still others, she dons her gloves and fights off the dangers that would overrun them. And every time she arrives, she brings any food left over from her most recent shift at the tavern.

Perhaps you find her having just stepped out of the gate, or maybe you come across her while she's in the middle of assisting in some way. Help her out, or perhaps have her help you with what you're doing? ]

[ Eileen had been seeing this one more and more. A young woman, a witch. A real beauty, the sort some of the more miserable faces in the slums might call an 'angel', though Eileen thought the idea a bit much. She seemed like a hard worker, too... And honestly, that was more important to her, in the end. They needed all the aid they could get, out there, and the Crow could only do so much on her own...

It was in dealing with some Cwyld infected monsters, long lost to their sickness, driven to the Cwyld's madness, that they finally met properly. The woman could hold her own, but the numbers did her no favors. But as it so often was in situations like this, particularly so late at night, that she Joined the Hunt.

Eileen dropped from a perch well above, crashing into one of the beasts with her blades singing across the cold night air, slicing cleanly across the back of the poor, lost soul's neck, spraying the steaming blood off to the side. ]

[ So far, no one's called her an angel. Even if they did, Tifa would probably disagree. In her own mind, Aerith seems much more the angel type than she does, down to the pale-colored hair and the gentle smile...

No, she's much more the hired fist than the angel, no matter how much her actions are driven by a desire to help these people. And tonight, the help comes via those fists, her breath hot against the mask she's wearing to protect her from infection as she pummels the beasts to the ground, one after another.

But there are too many, tonight. The spray of blood may make her wince, but the whistling of metal through the wind that precedes it is a welcome sound. She breathes out a sigh of relief, knocking another of them aside before she glances across at the woman she's heard called the Crow. ]

Hey. Thanks.

[ Now that she's finally started to settle in, Tifa thinks it's high time she pays more attention to her magic. Initially, she was attending the classes, but otherwise didn't put in a lot of focus, her priorities taking her in other directions. But after the mess she made at the last New Moon, she's been trying to spend more of her own time practicing. In part, it's about the fact that with magic, she can help others; but admittedly, she's also far from fond of the feeling of the power running wild under her skin.

This month as a result will see her more frequently at the main Coven building, practicising basic alchemic recipes, trying to imbue her gloves with an elemental power, and studying universal spells to give her a better spread of magic to work with. Her goal is to eventually specialize in alchemy, but a lot of the schools of magic have their uses, and their teachers suggest they learn a little of everything, so it seems to her like a good enough way to start.

For those not in the Coven, she might also be found in the garden of the small cottage she and Aerith share, a warm coat wrapped around her to ward off the cold, practicing more of the same, along with minor evocation spells.

If someone apporaches her, they'll be met with a smile, brief but warm, and a greeting that follows simply: ]

Hey.

[Much to his frustration, Ferran can't take full advantage of what the Coven has to offer, but that doesn't mean that none of the witch-oriented lessons are useful to a Fae. Ultimately, the magic they all use follows the same basic principles, so even if the process of a fairy enchanting an item isn't quite the same as a witch doing it, there's still something to learn. The more perspectives he can gain on the subject, the better.

Which is why he's approached Tifa, who's attempting to figure out how to pull elemental power into her weapons. Whether she's at the beginning stages and practicing with other items, or working on the gloves themselves, he takes a guess that they're trying to work with similar schools of magic.]

Hi.

[It might be hard to even tell he's not a witch himself, if she doesn't catch a glimpse of the moth wing tails under his cloak. He nods to her work.]

How is that going?

[ The truth? It's unbelievably frustrating. Being Mirrorbound seems to have altered her biology somehow so that magic is a part of her, rather than something she has to use through her materia. In turn, that means an entirely new learning curve with magic that she can literally feel in her veins, magic that doesn't always want to cooperate the way it should.

She's never been liable to show her frustration though, instead just smiling as she gestures to the small scraps of material laid on the table around her gloves. Some of the pieces are alight with the glow of her magic, others untouched despite her best efforts, and the worst-off are suffering the effects of the elements in question rather than having been imbued with them; one small block of wood is now a charred husk, and one of the fabrics lies in a puddle of water. ]

As you can see, I'm having kinda mixed results right now...

[ She looks up again to examine him more fully, not yet catching sight of the moth wing tails. ]

Are you working with the same type of magic?

[It looks a bit like the attempts at his own magic back home, when he first got it. Even if they were limited in scope back then, it would still be more useful than what he has now... but he has to get past that if he's going to make any progress.]

Something like it, yeah. Trying to figure out what kinds of effects I can put into items, not to mention what would be useful. [Even if he could find native Fae around, bargaining with them to teach him would be a headache and a half, he's sure.]

That's all before practicing more, so I don't waste too much energy. You're focusing on... elemental things, I'm guessing?

Edited (press the brackets button please, ryoko. thank you) 2021-02-13 20:39 (UTC)

[ Tifa's head tilts, curiosity written into her expression. So he's not a witch, then. If he were, there'd be no concern about wasting energy, given how much of it seems to run through her veins, wanting to jump out at any given moment. And she knows it isn't just her - it's a known thing that witches here have to deal with, so...

Still, she was asked a question. It's proper to reply first, and then ask questions. So, she smiles, and nods. ]

It's one of my focuses for now, yeah. The Coven witches suggested that we try to get experience in a number of different schools. My main focus for now is alchemy, but that one's not quite as good when it comes to burning off the magic. So I'm trying to augment my martial arts as a side project.

[ She grins a little at that, and only after finishing her statement does she allow herself to ask in turn: ]

You're not a witch, right?

[Although he nods with understanding at her explanation, his eyebrows rise at her returning question. Ferran hasn't had too much reason to think deeply on how witch magic manifests as it builds up; in some ways, he's been thinking of it like how his own magic worked back home. He doesn't think of it as an endless resource that can be constantly burned away. Surely witches get tired if they try to do many things with their magic, too, regardless of whatever energy is flowing into them from the ether?

But he makes a lot of assumptions, and not enough of them have been proven wrong for that habit to be corrected.

He may not be trying to completely blend in at the moment—masking more than just his eyes and ears takes too much energy to maintain for a long period—but it still catches him off guard to be identified. He wants to know how to fix that for the future, should he decide to conceal his nature fully.]

... That's right. I'm a Fae, technically. [Technically?? What does that mean, Ferran. He smiles a little awkwardly, pulling one corner of his cape open to flutter his folded wings in demonstration.]

What gave it away?

[ Tifa's eyebrows lift in turn in response to the "technically" comment. How can one be technically anything here?, she wants to ask, but realistically she supposes it's just the habit of not thinking of himself in such a way. Describing herself as a "witch" is still incredibly strange for her, after all, when in the past she's only thought of herself as a martial artist and bartender. And whatever he was back home, she's pretty sure it wasn't fae.

Her head tilts to peek at the fluttering wings— ]

Oh! They're beautiful.

[ —before Ferran asks the question, and a small grin tugs at the corners of Tifa's lips. ]

It was just a guess. You mentioned conserving your energy; for witches, that's not really a problem. At least not that I've heard of [ or experienced ] so far. From everything I've been told, our problem is the opposite. It's why we need Bonds; without them, the magic burns us up. And even then, there's a lot.

[ ...Or so she's been told. Tifa's courage has been holding out on her when it has come to asking her friends about Bonding, and so after a couple of months here, the situation for her really is about burning the magic out of her veins.

Her smile softens. ]

If you're trying to hide it, how the magic works is the key.

[Ferran lets out a subdued chuckle as he lets his cloak fall back into place.]

Thanks...

[While there is a part of him that's flattered by the comment, the rest of him would rather the wings not exist at all, and he's far more interested in concealing them and his new nature—so he listens to her answer carefully.

Bringing a gloved hand to his chin, he hums in thought.]

I see... so is that how it feels to you? Like you have to constantly expel it? [Interesting.] I haven't asked my bonds about it, but... maybe I should.

[Better to be informed—both for his own sake, and to check on his friends. But he knows that Rikku also has another bond to feed her magic into, and Tsutha is constantly practicing with the Coven.]

Am I right that you don't have one yet?

[ As soon as Zack had heard from Aerith about what was going on with Tifa, he'd made sure to collect the correct potion (double-checking a few times, so as to avoid disaster) from Cloud's room and had more or less booked it over to their cottage. While it was far more typical for monsters to go feral in this place, from what he's heard? Witches losing control of their magical abilities was nothing to sneeze at, either.

He's going off of second-hand information. Supposedly he witnessed this in Lightning once before, but that's from a time he can't remember. Knowing that he can help now, even if it's only in a small way, is some kind of comfort.

It would be better if Tifa wasn't going through this in the first place, but he's well aware of how weird the Bonding stuff can seem at first.

So there's no judgment, only concern, as he walks up the small walkway to their front door. The garden is given a brief glance, as now isn't really the time to admire Aerith's handiwork, despite their discussion about it over their Watches.

He raps on the doors a few times, a solid knock that should be loud enough to be heard even deep within the cottage. ]

It's Zack! Special delivery!

[ This is a serious situation, to be sure, but he figures there's no harm in trying to lighten the mood where he can. ]

( she's on her hands and knees, trying to scrub out a particularly deep knot of dirt from the floor--it's not that she usually enjoys cleaning, or that she's as meticulous as she's seen tifa be about it, but with the other girl struggling through the night with magic that's gone haywire a few too many times for it to be the usual difficulties, the evening chores are left to her...which means she's still scrubbing and making sure that none of the glass from any previous explosions still litters the floor at all, making sure all the dishes from dinner are on the drying rack, that everything is tucked away and the laundry is hanging and whew, it's a lot to keep track of, isn't it?

at least it keeps her busy--and zack's messages help, a balm on her anxious need to keep her hands busy, but she abandons her washing immediately at the sound of the knock, pushing up onto bare feet to step and skid her way across the very clean floor to the door. it's such a relief to have him nearby; it's such a relief now to be able to call on him at all, and sometimes it still doesn't feel real, like maybe she's still living with the imaginary hope that one day he'll come around or write her back. no, in this city, he's actually here: standing outside the door once she wrenches it open, beaming at him, and then she throws both of her arms around his neck in a hug for greeting. )

Special delivery? ( it's muffled from where her face nudges in against his neck, close to his feathers; they tickle. she pulls back to clap her hands on his shoulders, look him up and down, and then-- ) But you didn't bring food.

( it's a playful tease of her own, though her eyes glimmer with worry despite her smile, and she gestures him inside so that she can close the door at his back. ) Tifa's upstairs, she...

Well. She's exhausted. I could barely get her to eat anything for dinner, and she's been doing okay lately, but tonight... It just seems hard for her to hold it in, tonight. But this stuff'll work?

[ The door opens, and Zack doesn't even have a chance to say hello or offer some reassuring words before Aerith's arms reach up and wrap around him tight. ]

Whoa! [ Hello to you too. He bends his head down as Aerith's arms apply some pressure at his back, but returns the hug with one arm, the one that isn't holding onto a very important potion. ] Hey, I was rushing! I can pick some up when I head out to get another potion, how about that?

[ Once she releases him, Zack steps in to find an immaculately clean cottage. Especially the floor, which looks like it might be sparkling. That's one way to deal with anxiety and stress, and while he could comment on how the place is coming along and looking nice, now isn't really the time for it.

Somehow he expected to show up to something dramatic. Spells flinging off the walls, that kind of thing. Maybe that happened before he got here. ]

That's what I hear. [ He glances down at the potion in his hand. ] I haven't tried one myself, but a lot of people swear by these. They're not a permanent solution, but they should help for now.

[ With that, he glances over Aerith's shoulder toward the stairs. ]

Should we head up?

[ He's not entirely sure what to expect. ]

( she nods, faintly, and glances down at the potion that he's holding: a part of her feels guilty, like she should have sought some kind of solution to this sooner, like maybe she should have pushed harder, yelled more, done something, but it's too late to fix those mistakes. she has to do what she can now to take care of tifa, and as always, zack is a lifesaver in more ways than one. so she nods again, like she's reassuring herself, more than anything else, and then looks up at him with a smile. )

Yeah. It's this way.

( it's not like he wouldn't be familiar with the layout--she imagines most of the cottages are the same, but he's still polite enough to let her lead, enough of a gentleman to follow after as she pads across the front room, lays her hand on the bannister for the stairs and starts up them, carefully, her head tilted upward like she's listening for the sounds of broken wood, or glass, or anything that may give some indication as to how tifa is faring. when she checked last, her friend had been too exhausted to really get into much more trouble for herself; now, she glances back at zack before she approaches one of the bedroom doors, closing her fist into a knock to the wood. )

Ti~fa. I've brought a real life hero. ( it's a gentle tease, hoping to at least make the other girl smile, before she reaches her hand in and turns the door knob, pushing it open. ) He's got the potion I told you about...

( she stays there, her back to the door, holding it open so that zack can move past her and into the room, properly; she gives it a cursory glance herself, assessing where she might be able to tidy things, or help make things more comfortable for tifa in the interim. )

[ It's the weirdest feeling she's ever experienced; she's exhausted and thrumming with life at the same time, too much energy in her veins yet not enough to properly expend it. Thankfully, the lack of actual physical energy has meant that she hasn't destroyed too many things in the cottage tonight, so her room is relatively tidy. She's lying on the bed when Aerith opens the door to let both of them in, and she sits up to offer them a small, tired smile. ]

A real life hero, huh? [ It's an attempt at playful, but her smile falls back again into that tired expression a moment later, her smile softer as she leans back against the bed, propping herself up a little against the wall. ] Thanks for coming, Zack.

[ She glances across at Aerith. She should thank her, too; without her input, none of this would be happening, and Tifa would be a step closer to getting herself killed. All on account of being too damn stubborn to ask for help. But that same stubbornness holds her back from speaking up, at least for now. She'll thank her later. Doing it in front of Zack seems a little too personal.

For now, though, the glance is followed by her attention going back to Zack, glancing at the potion he's holding. ]

Aerith told me it's meant to make the symptoms a little better?

[ But it's only temporary. Right? Meaning that it's not a fix. She still has to...

Tifa sighs. She'll worry about that later. For now, she just wants to focus on feeling better, not thinking about what comes next. ]

[ There's something about watching Aerith climb up the stairs ahead of him, her hand lightly sliding up the bannister as she goes. He remembers the trips he'd made down to her quaint cottage in the slums, and yet he'd never gone through the front door and up the stairs like this. It had always been climbing up and through the window so as to avoid being spotted by Elmyra. It's nice to know that he's welcome to come in the normal way, these days.

That's all besides the point, though. He's eager to make sure that Tifa's all right, and a little apprehensive as Aerith opens up the door to her room, mainly because he doesn't know what to expect.

As it turns out, it's nothing flashy. Tifa doesn't have light exploding out from under her skin, and she isn't shooting spells from her fingertips with no control over when, what, or how she does it. Maybe that's what'll happen if she doesn't get this potion, though. Which is why Zack nods in greeting and steps forward without hesitation to hand it over to her.

Up close, he can see how exhausted she looks, with dark bags under her eyes and a slump to her shoulders like she's been bearing an impossible weight. She looks how he feels the day after a full moon, and then some. ]

It should for a while, yeah. I was going to head out in a bit and grab another one for you, just in case you need a little more to tide you over. Oh, and some food.

[ Which now means that they need to address the elephant in the room. Zack takes a step back and crosses his arms, letting out a small sigh before he gets into it. ]

The sooner you can get a permanent Bond set up, the better. He may not be good at using words, but I'm sure Cloud would be willing.

[open/ota] still got a lot of fight left in me

WHAT'LL IT BE? (The Sordid Shield)

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feel free to alter the trajectory of this for event stuff if you like! I know we discussed it ♥

<3

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OUT OF THE CITY

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MAGICAL PRACTICE (The Coven / The Haven)

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wildcard!

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