sixthiterationlogs | OTA - Village, House on Fire, Aftermath

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OTA - Village, House on Fire, Aftermath

WHO: 7
WHERE: House 41
WHEN: Today all day
OPEN TO: OTA; Fire-learning about the village, house engulged, aftermath
WARNINGS: Fire/Panic

The thing about being human is that they felt things a little sharper - skin, muscles, nerves, she hadn't been unfeeling as a doll, but there seemed to be much more about the human body that was apt to go wrong or be injured. Since arriving she's been introduced to hunger, sleep deprivation, bruising, and ever so gradually the shift in weather towards a cooler clime.

That she hadn't quite been aware of until late, but a sudden, sharp introduction woke her up one morning as something skittered across her hand, and it suddenly felt hard, and cold, and heavy. She sits up, looking at her hand that is now encased in ice, for a moment entirely unable to connect with what she's actually staring at and just dimly aware on how uncomfortable it is, until there's a slight tingling in her hand and fingers, then a slight glow, and then the the ice melts and burns away and her hand returns to normal. She flexes it, wondering if she is somehow still dreaming, and eventually slides out of bed to make go about her day.

By the time she's arriving back at home in the evening, she's almost forgotten about the incident since it hadn't seemed to happen again, although there had been some strange incidents involving flames shooting from her hands. Trying to figure that out had kept her pretty busy, but she's arriving home with the understand that she's somehow developed the power to create and control (with some concentration) fire.

She makes herself some tea, then sets some wood in her fireplace, stands back to take a breath, and then makes a motion of punching her hand at it. The first attempt doesn't work, though she can feel the tingle in her palm and see some embers fall out. She concentrates for a moment, and with a sudden burst her hand erupts in flames. She looks at it, transfixed by the fact that it doesn't hurt, and then punches again at the fireplace. A ball of flames shoots out and ignites the wood and is immensely satisfying.

Fire started, she shakes her hand out and reaches for her tea, but ... it's gone cold and solid in a big mug of ice. She frowns at it, and then motion on the table catches her eyes and she looks at a little mouse, hanging onto her spear as it leans against the stable, tendrils of frost and ice starting to creep out from the little rodent's paws along the length of the shaft. She makes a grab at the mouse, but it's fast, and darts across the table, off a chair, and across the living room, leaving icy little footprints behind and encasing everything it touches in a thick coating of ice.

Following it, she slips on one of the icy patches and slams into the floor, a brief tingle in her hand as a firebolt shoots out into the wall. The mouse has stopped, sitting on her backpack (now in its own icy prison) and chitters are her. She throws her hand towards it, sending out another fireball that thaws the backpack, but the mouse has jumped off and moves on.

She chases it around the house, grabbing at it and trying to mitigate the wintry wonderland that it's trying to make of her home, until it slips into a hole and 7 scrabbles on the ground behind it, kneeling down and peering into the hole as she grumbles in annoyance. So far, she was not a fan of the cold, and she was not a fan of this creature trying to inundate her life with it.

But the mouse is now long gone, hidden somewhere in the walls of the house, and 7 sits back and huffs a sigh in order to think about what to do next. Beyond that, however, she becomes aware of a pleasant warmth and a soft glow; contrary to the icy palace the mouse was trying to convert this place into, it was warm and, maybe almost too hot?

Turning slowly, afraid of what she's going to find, 7 is treated to the truth that some of those little puffs of fireballs had found some very burnable purchases in the predominately wooden house. She's reminded suddenly of the fire in the cathedral, but they'd been able to make it out before it had gotten too big, but big it had gotten, and sitting here now she could see that it was spreading fast.

Fast rising, too, was that panic; the way her chest tightened and made it hard to breathe and her skin almost felt like it was alive. It wasn't long before the little blue light appeared, directing her out of the house and out of danger. She leapt to her feat and started to follow, then stopped and doubled back to grab her backpack and her spear, and then turn to follow the blue light again. The fire, though, where she passed close to the licking flames, hadn't seemed to effect her.

She runs her spear and backpack outside, pauses a moment, then runs back in to see if she could salvage any more of her human necessities. As she realizes the fire doesn't hurt her, the panic subsides, but even after thoroughly scouring the burning house she finds not everything else is as lucky. Of her bolas, only the rocks remained, plate-ware was cracked, utensils melted. The dagger's she'd inherited from Cael safe in her backpack so that wasn't a concern.

Finally admitting defeat, she settles down to sit in front of her house as it burns itself down to embers, watching as the sky is dotted with floating pieces of ash. Oh, did this bring back memories, and her shoulders slump. She wasn't quite as excited about the fire powers now.

[[Find her In the village playing with her fire powers, later that evening maybe try to convince her not to run back into a burning building, or catch her afterwards contemplating the embers.]]

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Seven. As in the number? Congratulations, his brain was now almost as broken as it had been this morning. Names and numbers aren't the same thing. Was that supposed to be a designation? Hyne help him, Nida didn't quite know what to do with that information other than force a smile on and nod.

This place was beyond weird.

"I'll take your word for it."

For now at least.

"Anything you need help carrying?"

If she knew people were getting that hung up on it, she would be very confused. It was her - her name, her identity.

"No, I've got it." She hardly ever parts with the spear, and the backpack wasn't that heavy. "So, Nida, are you familiar with the cold, then?"

He did seem pretty adamant with getting her out of it.

Familiar with the cold, what an interesting turn of a phrase. He let himself take a moment to consider that as he started a very slow walk toward the inn. People here were from other places, or so Squall had explained. Which meant that might just be how people wherever 7 is from speak. Alright, just work with it.

"For a given definition of familiar. I'm aware of it. I've interacted with it. But I didn't live with a lot of it. I grew up in some pretty warm areas and before I came here I was on day three in a pretty serious desert. Cold and I aren't exactly friends."

"Same. It never got this way where I'm from." The mouse running over her hand and turning it to ice had really been her first experience with ice.

But to say that she was used to a hot climate, that would be a lie. Weather in her world was steady and didn't sway into either extremes, and even if it did she wouldn't have felt it the same as a doll than she did as a human here. "It keeps getting colder here, too; I wonder when it's going to stop."

"If climate cycles even remotely resemble my world... three months and it should start warming up," he offered.

Of course he'd been here all of a part of a day, so could he really say? This place could be smaller. Or spin slower, or a number of different things. "There may be people who have been here a long time who could tell you more accurately."

Those were the sort of people he needed to pin down. People who could explain what was going on here and what he could expect in the near future. And whether these ice mice were new. Whether there were worse winter things he could end up dealing with.

"Three months ... that sounds like a while. You're right, though, I could ask one of the others." Maybe Tony, how long had he been there?

"I hope we don't have to deal with those stupid mice the entire time." That would about drive her mad.

"There I can agree with you," Nida offered with a chuckle as he finally let himself shrug into his coat and button it up quickly. Damn it was far too cold out here. "Frankly I'd be happy if this was a freak cold spell and it turned out this only lasts three days. Have a nice warm day coming up and I'll be happy."

Which of course wasn't going to happen because his luck had been nothing but completely unreliable until now, except in that it could be relied upon not to be there for him. Which wasn't here or there. And look at him, he'd let her distract him from guiding her, hadn't he.

"Right, we were going to the inn. Shall we, Miss 7?"

"Right, to the inn." She had finally agreed to that, hadn't she? She follows along, though not without another glance back at the house.

"Do you have friends in town? People that might let you stay with them?"

The inn was rather impersonal. Not so bad if you didn't want full responsibility or a lot of space. Frankly Nida might have been content there himself, but he got lucky, hadn't he?

With that thought he found himself walking a bit slower, in part so he could fall back to walk at her side. He kept glancing at 7 out of the corner of his eyes a bit worried about how disconnected she seemed from it all.

There's a lot going through her head right now, and she's already normally withdrawn when she gets stressed. Even as they enter the Inn, she hesitates. She glances around, counting the people, then moving to gravitate towards an empty corner. She'd gotten better since her arrival, but having just seen - having been the cause of her house fire, her stress is running high again.

"A few. I'll be fine."

He noticed the hesitation at the door and Nida lowered his voice just for her. She needed reassurance. "It's okay, go on in and warm up."

Once she was moving again he followed her toward the corner, hovering for just a moment longer before moving to lean against a bit of wall. Today was too keyed up for him to want to just sit down and be vulnerable like that.

"My suggestion is you send them a message," he continued, raising a wrist to shake the strange wristband there. He'd been told those worked for communication. "Friends probably know where you live, and if they see the fire, they're going to worry about you. A lot."

"Not used to so many people." They were all dead in her time, even this small village was a crowd to her. She looks at her wristband for a moment at his suggestion, then crosses her arms and slumps in her seat.

"Maybe later. IF they know me, they know not to worry." That was more a pronouncement to her ability to combat danger, but the odd truth of it was she hadn't particularly felt in danger as much as she should have been. It's more the loss of the house, and her part in it, that's weighing on her now.

Edited (welp that was the wrong icon) 2018-12-06 05:45 (UTC)

"A friend worries when you're involved in a fire," Nida countered. Perhaps she isn't giving her friends credit. Clearly the woman thought herself competent, but he'd found her sitting outside in the cold. Hardly the best idea.

She looks up at Nida, as if resisting simply because it was suggested, and then finally queues up a quick mess house burning, i'm fine to, well. Someone. She wasn't really paying attention.

Sitting outside on the ground hadn't been a concern in her world - where she hadn't had to worry about the ails of a biological body. She could be incredibly pragmatic and thoughtful, but that didn't quite cover being being human.

"Sent a message." She glances up at him as if to add happy?, but she doesn't voice it. She curls around in her seat to look out the window, see if she could make out the remains of her house from here.

"Thank you," Nida answered softly, because he can tell the snark is there. "I get you think it's silly, but times like this, people worry about you."

It's a human thing. They are gregarious, they care about the pack, the community. Or so Nida would think. And if nothing else, he'll sleep easier knowing she reached out to someone else.

It wasn't just humans; 7's little community had its fair share of worriers. She just wasn't one of them, and she's used to them not chasing after her when she's split off into the wastelands.

She leans on the table and picks at the grain of the wood. "I'm really not hungry. I'm fine."

"I'll let you get away with that."

After everything else, he supposed he owed her a break. So he pushed off of the wall and walked to the edge of her table, laying a hand on it for just a moment, enjoying the feel of the grain under his fingers.

"Forgive me for being pushy. It's just... where I'm from, people look out for each other. You're taught from when you're very young that you look out for your team. And here? We're all a team."

There was a genuine smile, just for her, when he said that. Then he lifted his hand and took a step back. "If you want, though, I can give you some space. It's just my first day here, guess I'm taking the worrying a bit further today, mostly because if I'm standing here, looking after you, I don't have to think about the mess I've fallen into. Sorry that it's making me a bit more... let's go with intense."

She's quiet, going still for a moment, continuing to look at the table aside from one or two glances his way. She focuses back on outlining the whorls and knots.

"I was the one watching over my people. I was one of the two strongest, the fighters. 8 stayed with them, I ended up scouting. No one came after me, so I don't expect it." It's not meant to down angsty; it was just what it was. They'd finally been moved to action when 9 showed up, but even then 7 was still often on her own.

She thinks of the last moments she'd had there, before waking up in the well; getting carted off by the Seamstress, calling out to 9, her first moment of real, armature-deep terror. Would he come? Would he be too late?

"There's something I learned, during the war that dominated my world about a year back. The people who are strong, who fight for others, seem to much like steel to bend or break? Sometimes they're the ones that most need another set of eyes watching their back. Because eventually they do need help, and they don't know how to ask for it."

Specifically he meant Squall, he'd heard all about the whole Horizon bridge mess. And he definitely respected the people who had supported Squall then. It was an example he didn't mind emulating. And clearly this woman, no matter how strong she saw herself, needed someone to have her back. She just hadn't realized it yet.

More silence. He's definitely hitting the nail on the head here, and she's beginning to be painfully aware of it. If she would have had the strength for it, she would have fought Eddie against taking care of her when she was ill.

But it was something deeper than just that, it was the fact that they were human. 5 had always stitched her up in the aftermath of her injuries, she hadn't had a problem there, but in this strange odd world with plants and animals and humans, she was still getting used to all of it.

"You think that's me." Stating the obvious because she's not sure where else to take the conversation.

"You remind me of some people I grew up with," Nida answered, perhaps as a confirmation, with a slight shrug. "Particularly one man who sometimes forgot to take care of himself and had to be taken care of by others. Got caught up in the details. I think the saying is missing the forest for the trees. Or something like that."

It wasn't wrong to need help every now and then, was it? To let other people worry about your bigger problems so you could do the small stuff. Or even vice versa. Humans are complex like that. And gregarious.

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OTA - Village, House on Fire, Aftermath

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