well, I can make this work

[guillotine]

Who: Nel Zelpher, you! (And Solas.)
When: roughly mid- to late-May
Where: Haven, the Aristocratic District, various other districts...
What: Free-for-anyone neighborhood cookout, sketchy odd jobbing, Nel scaring a home intruder out of his wits, and a quest for a super wilde pumpkin. (Three open prompts! The wilder quest w/ Solas will go in a separate comment.)
Warnings: Violence, food with ulterior motives, nudity
*Prose or brackets a.o.k!! If none of these prompts work, you can also PM me to discuss a wildcard.


I. "free" food

There are no flyers or signs pointing to the event, but word of mouth might carry neighbors or passersby to the tables lined up before a pretty majestic garden. Three people hustle and bustle down the lot with wooden plates and utensils, bowls, pots; as the day is temperate with a forgiving sun, not much is being done to provide shade for the food on display.

Fruit tarts, fresh spring rolls, cold noodles some might recognize as soba, and rice that fills your mouth with sweetness are each set out in absurd portions. Two Monsters—a shaggy-haired Turnskin woman and a strapping male merrow—are in charge of ferrying back and forth between the castle-like mansion this production is situated in front of. Off to the side is a short, red-haired, knife-wielding witch in a sleeveless tunic and trousers, all dark and worn. The sun hardly has time to reflect off of her blade, a constant blur while Nel neatly and professionally brutalizes bite-sized slices of fish. These are combined with the sweet rice into layered ovals which fit comfortably into the palms of most, and should someone come near to take any for themselves, she gives a decisive nod without a single hiccup in the cutting of her knife.

“No charge, no surprise enchantments. Dig in.”


I.a. take a minute

It’s nearly dusk when the last of the debris is cleaned up. The pretty lane, restored to its untouched glory, now only hosts what stragglers stayed behind to lend a hand. One or two are collapsed onto a healthy lawn; others mutter and shake hands with Nel and the hired Monsters.

She cracks her neck audibly, with an awful snapsnapsnap that makes the Turnskin cringe as she trudges downstreet in the opposite direction. Then, seeming not to care who sees her so graceless, she throws herself onto a free patch of the garden’s long and feathery grass. “Parched.”

Nel twists a little to fix a tiredly assessing stare onto yourself. “You know, we do have some of the pear tarts left.”


II. pay me

Ingratiating herself with local residents across each district takes up as much time as her study of the Coven’s brand of magic. Nel never outright asks these new acquaintances to spy, just to share what comes their way in terms of news and gossip; in exchange, they receive a favor, or labor, or what monetary compensation she can spare. She’s careful not to offend or go after more than what they’re willing to give. So early in the formation of a network, she can’t afford to alienate people who have no reason to like a strange outsider.

That’s a lot of words to explain why Nel can be spotted (maybe even recognized) taking odd and odder jobs across the city. One morning she’s a runner, only trusted with business-oriented letters and packages of no real consequence to the senders or recipients—the next day sees her in long skirts and a maid’s stark uniform, toiling in the manor of some high-flying aristocrat. In areas where she would prefer not to be remembered, such as the manor, a plain black scarf pins back and hides the bright hair that would otherwise make her more memorable.

What’s it gonna be? Are you slow to move aside when a fast-moving woman bolts past? Did you bite it and hit the gutter, poor thing?

Take a fancy to the market and find a super sale on some item, only to have a sour-faced maid steal it out from under your nose? Even better, are you a manor guest—or snoop, without invitation? Funny how this meek servant pops up in the corner of your eye more than once. It’s not impossible that you’re being followed, even if you’re not inside its halls but prowling the hedge maze outdoors.



III. Aefenglom Woman Terrifies Home Invader, Naked and Unafraid

[ A certain young man, reasonably bitter over having his estate seized and redistributed, knows now his terrible mistake.

Nel Zelpher sleeps lightly in a tiny servant’s room on the mansion’s second floor, her window open a crack for sound to filter through. Even if that weren’t the case, a huffy aristocrat tripping over rearranged furniture in the dark is not a practiced sneak. She appears at the landing of the staircase as he curses and hops on one lordly foot, and a few things happen in quick succession.

One: he sees the dark silhouette of a lady, the gleam of her eyes, and the outline of a machete-sized blade in each fist. He realizes she’s in the buff.

Two: Nel sees him. He turns and bolts for the front door. ]

No, son of a— get back here, cretin!

[ She clears the stairs in two strategic leaps, tucking and rolling to soften the impact. The sound of metal hitting the floor behind him puts a new spring into the man’s step, and when the pursuit leads them to the estate’s sprawling garden he’s almost sobbing with fear. Nel bears down on him with silent and grim inevitability.

It’s pretty late. Maybe you're one of her housemates. Maybe someone’s out for a walk on the nicer part of town where naked folks aren’t supposed to charge out and chase shrill men with paint-stained hands. Maybe that someone is or isn’t you, but either way, this is heading in your direction… ]

Comments

solas; wilders recruitment

[guillotine]

[ Being practical and restrained individuals, Solas and Nel probably manage to stop themselves from snapping when they're each taught basic elemental spells. It isn't the wilders' problem that the two of them were accomplished and educated casters before their arrival. She accepts the task, and their lessons, with respectful (if distant) studiousness.

Solas can probably still tell how she's feeling about it from the half-twisted and sullen tug of her mouth. At least they get useful experience with fire and ice out of the deal.

And what experience! Nel ignores the accumulated dirt and filth that she can taste all the way to the back of her throat. Their present concern is the pumpkin prize they've been recruited to fetch for its parts. Her breath still comes heavier after the challenge of managing unstable magic and a physical battle simultaneously, and she hates herself, just a little, for having struggled.

The blasted pumpkin is an easier target for loathing, even dead at last. She fixes it with the evil eye that's sent hardened agents of Aquaria scurrying to hide. ]

I don't know about you, but I intend to use every damn piece of this thing.

[veilfires]

[The slow process of regaining the power he had taken for granted has been – among other things – humbling.

When he awoke in the world with the Veil, unable to open his orb, he had been left so weak. He’d been forced to learn new lessons, then. Like what it is to be vulnerable and dependent on your allies. Like the sick swoop of dread when you’ve run out of mana and a bandit’s aiming his sword to your throat. He had needed to learn, also, how to hold his tongue when Circle mages (Circle mages) had the gall to criticise him on his barriers and energy re-engagement. He may not have always heeded that particular lesson – but he learnt it.

Still. Today’s struggle in battle against a pumpkin has been demonstrative: he did have a little further to fall. He’s kneeling in front of his backpack, where he stowed the machete (as poor as he is at the magic of this world, he’s poorer still with blades.) He glances up at Nel, and thinks her characteristic chagrin a companionable sight.]

Do you? In that case, I will assume you are handier at gourd dissection than I am.

[He takes out the machete, still wrapped in leather, and tosses it to her – not without a teasing smirk.]

[guillotine]

[ She catches the machete one-handed. Though the look she slants Solas is narrow, it lacks the wintry contempt Nel holds much of Aefenglom and its wylds in. A brave man might even call it companionable. ]

Please. You might be some kind of scholar, but you're thinking like a soldier. Hack and slash? We could take the lot.

[ Aware of the hypocrisy and electing to ignore it, she circles the limp and shredded vines to get a measure of the pumpkin's true, abominable size. Singed flora crackles underfoot. ]

I've seen ice sculptures, ice picks. This could be the first time I've seen an ice sled... if you can manage it? [ A sweet and birdlike note of challenge makes her friendly smile more. ]

[veilfires]

[Amusing. She means to challenge him?]

Sadly, I am not some younger man. I cannot be that easily goaded into elaborate acts in defence of my pride.

[As such, when he walks in the shadow of the machete to join her at her side, he isn’t wearing his considering frown because he feels challenged. It’s (also) curiosity.

Could he manage it? He puts a crooked finger to his chin, head tilted as he regards the pumpkin. It’s a mundane use for magic, and that is the type he remains slower to think of. For a long time, he’s rarely had cause to use it, as the advantage does not outweigh the risk of attracting demons. It’s time to unlearn that, perhaps. There’s no such risk here – the magic cartwheels within him, dancing always at his fingertips.]

...If I avert the energy dissipation, and refocus it into the essential form, it should be a simple matter of maintaining the structure.

[guillotine]

[ Nel contemplates his real age and resolves to sniff it out, if only for its own sake. The numbers of years Solas has lived is much, much less interesting than scientific discovery and his susceptibility to challenges made under that lens.

She smiles at him, pleased and heavy-lidded, after learning something new; a thing he's familiar with. ]

And we have the good luck of being able to literally melt any mistakes to start fresh. [ Her magic is a tide that laps down her wrists, swelling out against her skin and runes. It wants to burn, and she's not opposed to allowing for release. ]

Would you be very put out if we used your staff to guide the front of the sled? [ Tease for a tease. ]

III

[wylderrant]

[ Iramaat keeps odd hours, depending on her own whims. Some days she'll sleep all day and then prowl about in the dark of night. Other days she'll retire early and be up at the crack of dawn. It seems random, as if she's trying to figure out what she likes rather than what's actually healthy for her.

She's a strange one, really.

So she's awake when all of the shouting happens.

Iramaat is actually in the rater expansive sitting room, enjoying a bowl of fruit and reading by candle-light, because what else do you do at some godawful hour of the morning? She hears the cursing and goes to investigate, stripped down to a too-long tunic and not much else, because what else does she need in her own home?

Technically not hers, but whatever, this is where she lives now. She's just in time to have the lordling go racing past her and a moment later Nel's naked, sword-wielding figure comes by in hot pursuit. Without a jot of hesitation, she follows, bare feet padding against the floorboards. As they clear the house and into the sprawling gardens, she finally speaks up, words overflowing with laughter. ]

I feel like we need a hunting horn, don't you?

[ In mid-stride she cups her hands around her mouth and does a passable (if quieter) imitation of the sort of hunting horn you might blow on a fox-hunt. Faster! ]

[guillotine]

[ Her housemate lopes along, bugling like a woman born to it, and Nel might crack a smile if she wasn't trying to predict where the man will turn next.

Left. He intends to try his luck scaling the high wall that separates this residence from the next. She won't let him. ]

Iramaat! Cut him off!

[ The desperate man throws himself at the bricks in a bid to climb faster via momentum at the same time that she catches up; rather than tackle him into the wall, she scales it at a run just high enough to then drop and plant one bare heel onto his sweating face. The impact is harsh and wet. Stunned, he falls. ]

[wylderrant]

[ Iramaat's imitation bugle trails off into a wild burst of laughter as she angles to cut the man off, legs eating up the distance. Then the man turns for the wall and Iramaat follows. She slows slightly as Nel simply drop-kicks the man and he goes tumbling into the grass. She skids to a halt next to him, feeling the wetness of the dew against her feet and she sticks her foot on his chest. So now he has a naked woman with knives and a half naked woman with a sword standing over him.

Cool. ]

Good chase.

[ That's to Nel. ]

What should we do with our prowler here, hmm?

[guillotine]

[ Only the lights of the street's gas lamps illuminate parts of the green. More of Nel's metal is visible than the actual nudity, and when a blade's reflection catches her narrowed eyes, she looks like a demon in the night. ]

Thank you. He's interrupted my sleep, though. [ Uneasy as it always is. ]

What do you want us to do, little man?

[ Gasping for air in the grass and dirt, chest heaving, he opens and closes his mouth in the way of a suffocating fish. He appears to have no ready answer. ]

[wylderrant]

Villain! To creep into a house and disturb its inhabitants without so much as being invited.

[ Iramaat clicks her tongue in disappointment and bends over the poor, gasping man, eyes glinting in the dim light. ]

I think we should teach him a lesson. Maybe take something from him to make sure he remembers not to tread where he's not wanted.

[ She flips her blade, tapping it against her shoulder. ]

A blood sacrifice, maybe?

i, which should absolutely come as a surprise to no one

[topslug]

Where free food appears, Yako is sure to shortly follow, like a specter of famine summoned by a feast. It's not as if she's starved (she's not!) but the income she's made from tasks around Aefenglom and what she can get off the Coven isn't quite enough to fill a ravenous young woman's belly, giving her an unerring instinct for whenever she can find it, like a shark scenting blood in the water.

So she's here, gravitating towards what by all accounts looks like an incredible spread, eyes only on the food, hardly even waiting on an invitation before she's already loading up a plate after a distracted greeting and a 'thanks for the meal.' When an all-too-familiar voice speaks up, she almost chokes on the mouthful of food she has when her gaze swings over, eyes wide.

"Miff Nel?" Hastily, she swallows, though the high-collared blouse she 's in now -- far more restrictive than the casual button-up Nel had seen her in last -- makes getting it down quickly a bit more uncomfortable than usual. "Is that you?"

prompt should really have been titled "Yako's Very Good Perfect Day"

[guillotine]

Restrictive but reasonable for their environment. Nel approves of Yako's change in dress for its practicality in that sense, having made a concession herself just by wearing pants when, really, she needs no such thing. The weather isn't nearly cold enough to require layers.

She looks up from the stiff-seeming blouse, the knife in one hand still moving. "You're..." Memories of the dream that ended in a short and painful non-death crowd to the forefront. Her cutting pauses for a breath, then resumes.

"Yako. You seem very well." A pointed glance at that loaded plate.

she's so happy

[topslug]

She'd get along with Aya-san, wouldn't she, is a thought that flits through Yako's head, briefly. There are similarities there, in the way she holds herself, elegant whether she's preparing a meal or cutting down a monster...

Or silently commenting on Yako's appetite. She flusters a little, not missing that look, and laughs sheepishly.

"I didn't expect to see you here." Why that should be a surprise given she already bumped into one person from that strange vision... "You seem well too. Did you make all this? It's really good!"

good... good............... eat

[guillotine]

It's good to be remembered, she had told Solas the day of their arrival, and that continues to hold true. She feels a bit saner for the recognition in Yako's eyes. Every night after the first contains fewer and fewer existential crises that relate to this world.

Her own is another story.

Nel slaps together a vivid piece of what is definitely sashimi, the fish meat an inviting shade of pink. Only safe, quality ingredients for herself and anyone eating from her table. "Why, thank you. We've been at it for a while," jerking her thumb towards the busy Turnskin and merrow.

"Wasn't my idea," she lies as comfortably as breathing, smiling, "but with the spiked food that's so commonplace, it was hard to say no. Take as much as you need to fill up. It's gotta go."

makes panicked eye contact as she slowly upends the table to slide all food into her maw

[topslug]

Yako's eyes glance over to Nel's other companions (housemates? Friends?) while she absentmindedly inhales another serving of food, using Nel talking as an excuse not to make conversation herself. At the mention of 'spiked food,' her brow furrows a little, and she swallows her current mouthful (with more grace this time) before she answers.

"As long as you're sure..." Nel may come to regret that blanket offer, because Yako is a bottomless well. That being said, at least the gastronomic devastation about to visit this spread is forestalled by Yako actually wanting to, well, talk. "That's a good point, though. I wonder if there's magic that can let you pick up on whether food is enchanted or not."

ii.

[sing_for_me]

So are you thirsty or hungry?

[ Alex chuckles as she looks down at the fallen woman. It was a lot of work, but it sure was satisfying to see the difference made between the before and after. She hadn't gotten the chance to approach Nel while working, but now should be fine, right? ]

I can bring them over if you'd like.

[guillotine]

[ Despite the pleasure at having Alex join her, she refrains from drawing attention to it in conversation in case she's spooked. The grass is cool against her bare arms and shoulders, and for that alone Nel gives the offer real consideration. ]

I'm not one for too many sweets. I got my taste during prep.

[ She props herself up onto an elbow, stretched out and looking wholly feline. ]

Unless you have a sweet tooth, Alex?

[sing_for_me]

Ah..well..

[ She chuckles as she scratches at her cheek. ]

A..little bit..B-but that's not why I was asking! I just thought you might like some..I could just get water if that's all you'd want.

[guillotine]

[ Uh oh. Weakness spotted. Nel will never, ever forget it. ]

I don't think so.

[ She twiddles her work-rough fingers tauntingly; this version of the assassin she'd met in a small Coven room is freakishly loose after a day of laboring. Some of the weight on her shoulders is lifted, invisible pressure forgotten. ]

How about you follow me indoors?

[sing_for_me]

[ So..she didn't want a drink then? Alex was a little confused with Nel's response until she extended the invitation. She tilts her head curiously. ]

Sure...Indoors where?

iii

[nemuru]

[ Ritsu errs on the side of nocturnal, normally speaking; even staying up for work (to get better at being out in the day) hasn't exactly changed that, and so he watches the sister moons outside of his window. Thinking about normal things, like the friends he has who aren't here, and about Mao, and about the people who are here, the persistent texts he's gotten from his brother so far.

He hasn't replied to them yet. They're riddled with weird spellings and errors, and Rei is a nuisance in general. But maybe at some point, he should...

The shout gets his attention first, Ritsu going still to listen for the rest - as it dissipates, he surmises they must've gone out. That voice was a woman, but it wasn't Iramaat... So it must be that woman she decided was living with them too, without telling him. Noel? Nelly? Something like that. What a pain, what a serrriiioouus paaain... He ends up going out the back way, intent on catching her and whatever mouse she's caught unawares - fortunate is he the door he chooses leads to the garden, and fortunate that they're there to begin with.

He's totally useless, generally speaking, but he does stick his foot out to trip their unwelcome intruder - lazy and efficient. Quiet, too. ...He's not looking at Nel, because, well, she's naked, and he has a modicum of sense (or rather, he's not quite interested in looking, so he won't) - but he's lodging notes in his mind about her.

Seems nice enough and polite, but is totally insane, and sleeps in the nude. Very important notes. ]

[guillotine]

[ Lucky and lazy it may be, but Ritsu's foot pitches her quarry into the dirt and knocks him out cold. A second later and she slides across the dewy grass into a predatory crouch, eyes wide to catch more of the scarce light.

It's very, very quiet for a moment. ]

... Intruder.

[nemuru]

[ Ritsu lets the quiet drag on for another moment longer, staring at the intruder. Hm. Sure is one. He kneels down to pat his pockets idly, wondering if the guy had a plan or if, like, he just walked in without a way to defend himself. ]

Good job, Hadachan... Guess we don't gotta worry about this stuff with you around. [ Lucky!! Because Ritsu'd rather not deal with this himself. ] Were you gonna kill him, or are those machetes just for scarin'?

[guillotine]

[ Paint flecks stain the young man's hands, but no weapons hide in his pockets, boots, or even the lining of his coat. Nel frowns down at him, judging. ]

What I did with these was going to depend on who snuck in and-- excuse me?

Ha-da-chan? [ Sounding it out, she's uncertain of whether offense should be taken. The night chill reminds her that they ought to drag him inside and, perhaps, put a shirt on. ]

[nemuru]

[ Wow, he really just decided he was gonna walk into a house of a bunch of strangers like that. ...He deserves everything he gets. Ritsu sits back from him, turning his head juuust enough to watch Nel from the corner of his eye. ]

Haaadaaaachaaaan. Your name's not easy to make somethin' out of, so I just used another word... Don't worry about it, it's nothin' bad. [ ...Which is technically true? It's a descriptor? However. ] Anyway, he's unarmed, so I guess he was just gonna steal stuff... Or vandalize us.