---
Lemons
Member
Resident Of The Bargain Bin
STATUS: I've been on this stupid site for an entire decade now and it's been fantastic, thank you all so much 5 mos ago
- Last Seen: 4 hrs ago
- Joined: 10 yrs ago
- Posts: 1475 (0.39 / day)
- VMs: 5
-
Username history
- Lemons 10 yrs ago
-
Latest 10 profile visitors:
-
Most recent →
Sky Blue,
Xaltwind,
CitrusArms,
TokyoPewPew,
thedarkness,
AlteredTundra,
Kuro,
Zer0Solution,
Red Hood,
rabidbacon
Status
Recent Statuses
5 mos ago
Current
I've been on this stupid site for an entire decade now and it's been fantastic, thank you all so much
11
likes
2 yrs ago
Nine years seems a lot longer than it feels.
2 yrs ago
Ninety-nine bottles of bottles of bottles of bottles of bottles of bottles of bottles of bottles of bottles on the wall
4
likes
4 yrs ago
Biting Spider Writing
7 yrs ago
They will look for him from the white tower...but he will not return, from mountains or from sea...
2
likes
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
Ah whoops, my bad, will fix.
Victorians wheeeeee
Victorians wheeeeee
Victorians.
Almost on instinct, Aoife felt her neck tense up.
Victorians.
As yet, she hadn't told any member of Rhodes Island any piece of her past more than they were required to know. She didn't have any kind of Dublinn iconography left on her, nothing that would indicate any kind of allegiance. The only thing to hint at her origin was the unshakeable accent that clung to her every word, something that she could stop no more than breathing. And in Rhodes Island, it seemed that nobody particularly cared. She thought she'd heard someone else talking in a similar accent, but every time, she'd turned and walked the other way. She didn't want to deal with any of it anymore. In all likelihood there was no link to Dublinn; but there could be, and that was enough.
The crystals embedded in her left shoulder twinged, and she winced as she rolled the joint. It never did anything for the pain, but she couldn't help but do it anyway.
That being said...as little as Rhodes Island seemed to care about the few hints of her past that she gave off...Rhodes Island weren't Victorians. She had a bit of a paranoia attached to them ever since she could remember; and the County Hillock incident had only made it so much worse. Being around any number of them now was enough to make her skin start to itch, and certainly enough to stay well and truly silent. Ideally, to never see or interact with them at all.
But this wasn't exactly an ideal situation.
So Aoife turned to Seven, wiping the fringe of her hair away from her face, where it had already begun to take on sweat. "Think being Rhodes Island could give us some pull on customs?" A pause as she inhaled a long breath--"You know better than me."
Almost on instinct, Aoife felt her neck tense up.
Victorians.
As yet, she hadn't told any member of Rhodes Island any piece of her past more than they were required to know. She didn't have any kind of Dublinn iconography left on her, nothing that would indicate any kind of allegiance. The only thing to hint at her origin was the unshakeable accent that clung to her every word, something that she could stop no more than breathing. And in Rhodes Island, it seemed that nobody particularly cared. She thought she'd heard someone else talking in a similar accent, but every time, she'd turned and walked the other way. She didn't want to deal with any of it anymore. In all likelihood there was no link to Dublinn; but there could be, and that was enough.
The crystals embedded in her left shoulder twinged, and she winced as she rolled the joint. It never did anything for the pain, but she couldn't help but do it anyway.
That being said...as little as Rhodes Island seemed to care about the few hints of her past that she gave off...Rhodes Island weren't Victorians. She had a bit of a paranoia attached to them ever since she could remember; and the County Hillock incident had only made it so much worse. Being around any number of them now was enough to make her skin start to itch, and certainly enough to stay well and truly silent. Ideally, to never see or interact with them at all.
But this wasn't exactly an ideal situation.
So Aoife turned to Seven, wiping the fringe of her hair away from her face, where it had already begun to take on sweat. "Think being Rhodes Island could give us some pull on customs?" A pause as she inhaled a long breath--"You know better than me."
For a brief moment after Mio stopped her from falling and helped her up, the two of them just stared at each other, and Haruhi became keenly aware of how much taller than her Mio was.
Then Mio jerked away with a "sorry," and, stare-off broken, Haruhi jerked, then blinked in confusion. Sorry? Sorry for what? She'd saved Haruhi from bonking her head on the floor, if anything Haruhi should be apologizing to her. So...what? But before she could ask, Mio poked her head out into the forge, observed what was going on. Haruhi would normally want to be there looking out as well--her curiosity was a powerful force indeed--but more powerful was that feeling of apprehension and fear she'd felt, enough to make her sick. So instead she slumped up against the wall, still breathing heavily, and trying to calm herself down. She lifted her hands up in front of her, staring at them as they trembled. She'd never felt anything like that before.
"One moment."
Haruhi's head jerked up to find Mio stepping out of the smithy where they stood, and out into the open air. A moment later and she was lost to view. A part of Haruhi wanted to go out and see what she was doing, but just the thought of going towards the man--what was it, Katsuro?--sent another bolt of lightning through her. So no, she would be in here until he left, she decided. She didn't know what he was carrying, what it did. The voices she heard--Keiko and Fumiko, it seemed--didn't seem nearly as spooked as she was, so maybe it wasn't that big a deal; but Haruhi trusted her instincts, and whatever it was, if it elicited that level of fear from her, it was probably best to keep away from both him and it.
Interactions: Mio @McMolly Fumiko @Queen Arya Keiko @Asura
Quinn took a long, deep breath, staring up at the perfect night sky that hovered above them. The faraway Hovvi moved with a dreamy blur, and her heart squeezed with what in the waking world might be pain, as vague, scattered memories of a sunny day months back passed behind her eye. But the memories were quiet, and the pain was eclipsed; not only by the deadening effect of the dream, but by her own pride alongside Quinnlash's. And her each word rang true: Quinn nodded and stretched, taking another deep breath.
"Yeah.. Her voice was quiet and warm, and she looked down on the little her with a smile that was gentle, but no less happy. "Yeah, we did it." They'd done it. They really had. They had lived up to what it meant to be Ablaze. Screw all the people telling her that she'd done something wrong by crediting someone with saving her life. The same people had told her to either kill Roaki outright, or leave her for dead. Sure, Axan Dane was a Euseran, and from what she'd seen, the Euseran Reputation was well-earned. But as far as Quinn could tell, Axan had dropped into danger, saved her life, and asked for nothing in return.
Plus, she also didn't like dueling, it seemed, and in Quinn's book? That was a win right there.
She stood from her seat, ambling over to the cooler and pulling out a pouch of melonberry juice. Popping the straw in, she took a long drink, and the nostalgia and memory of that day that felt so long ago--the good parts--filled her up like nothing else. Looking up at the stars again, she smiled softly.
"It's so beautiful."
"Yeah.. Her voice was quiet and warm, and she looked down on the little her with a smile that was gentle, but no less happy. "Yeah, we did it." They'd done it. They really had. They had lived up to what it meant to be Ablaze. Screw all the people telling her that she'd done something wrong by crediting someone with saving her life. The same people had told her to either kill Roaki outright, or leave her for dead. Sure, Axan Dane was a Euseran, and from what she'd seen, the Euseran Reputation was well-earned. But as far as Quinn could tell, Axan had dropped into danger, saved her life, and asked for nothing in return.
Plus, she also didn't like dueling, it seemed, and in Quinn's book? That was a win right there.
She stood from her seat, ambling over to the cooler and pulling out a pouch of melonberry juice. Popping the straw in, she took a long drink, and the nostalgia and memory of that day that felt so long ago--the good parts--filled her up like nothing else. Looking up at the stars again, she smiled softly.
"It's so beautiful."
With the laundry situation over and done with and Dahlia calm, Quinn sank down further into her chair, throwing the crook of her elbow over her face as she tamped down the entire nightmarish half an hour she'd just had. Really, it would be so much better to completely forget everything that had happened after she'd hugged her sister in the hangar. All the complicated junk that everyone (her included, of course) had to deal with now. At least for a while.
All the while, she pondered what Dahlia had asked. What did she want to eat? At that exact moment, she was pretty sure that she couldn't stomach much, but she knew as well as anyone that she'd need to eat eventually. She heaved a long sigh, trying to think back to things that she'd seen made, or seen in cookbooks and coming up with very little. She sighed again, then dragged her arm away from her face and hauled herself to her feet, making a beeline towards the kitchen. If she couldn't remember any of the recipes she'd seen or anything she really wanted to eat, then she'd just need to scan the cookbooks until she found something.
Plucking a book from the small shelf on a whim, she found herself looking at a book of Lombardi recipes. Plunking it down on the kitchen table, she popped it open to a random page, but found nothing interesting. She let her cheek rest on her hand, turning the pages as she tried to find something she wanted to eat.
Oh, hey, that looked good!
She perked up, instantly paying more attention to the picture, then the name, then glancing over the list of ingredients. Without looking up, she called out,
"Hey, Deelie...? Have you ever heard of something called 'fettucine alfredo' before?"
All the while, she pondered what Dahlia had asked. What did she want to eat? At that exact moment, she was pretty sure that she couldn't stomach much, but she knew as well as anyone that she'd need to eat eventually. She heaved a long sigh, trying to think back to things that she'd seen made, or seen in cookbooks and coming up with very little. She sighed again, then dragged her arm away from her face and hauled herself to her feet, making a beeline towards the kitchen. If she couldn't remember any of the recipes she'd seen or anything she really wanted to eat, then she'd just need to scan the cookbooks until she found something.
Plucking a book from the small shelf on a whim, she found herself looking at a book of Lombardi recipes. Plunking it down on the kitchen table, she popped it open to a random page, but found nothing interesting. She let her cheek rest on her hand, turning the pages as she tried to find something she wanted to eat.
Oh, hey, that looked good!
She perked up, instantly paying more attention to the picture, then the name, then glancing over the list of ingredients. Without looking up, she called out,
"Hey, Deelie...? Have you ever heard of something called 'fettucine alfredo' before?"
Quinn didn't answer right away, opting instead to help Dahlia pick up her clothes, shake the ice cubes out of the shoes, find the sweatpants in the freezer, and so on and so forth. It was almost impressive just how much Roaki had managed to accomplish with no legs and one arm in such a short time. After bringing it all back into Dahlia's room, she returned to the common area, sinking down into her beloved blue chair and staring up the ceiling before she finally responded, a look on her face that could only be described as brittle.
"...No. I didn't figure anything out. I think I'm even more confused." She paused, took a breath, thought. At least her entire brain wasn't trying to combust in on itself anymore. Talking to her sister and deep breathing, probably. Both of those were things that calmed her down, so combining them--and the distraction of Roaki's textile slaughter--had her thinking pretty straight again. "Buuuut I did figure out that I can't figure it out right now, and that I shouldn't worry about it until I can."
That was, of course, underselling the turmoil that was still boiling inside of her, threatening to burst out at any moment; Quinn was emotionally fragile at the best of times, and this was not exactly that. But she found that when she was with Roaki, it was a bit easier to keep it all down, to hide it and deal with it later. Perhaps it was an artifact of the way that they'd talked when Roaki was still in that room in medical, or perhaps it was just the ways that their personalities played. But even though she really did want to curl up in a ball again and keep crying some more, she...wasn't. A faint ghost of what might one day be a smile came to her face as she considered that Roaki could therefore be perhaps classified as a good influence. "So...thanks--"
She realized only after she said it that she didn't exactly know what she wanted to thank Roaki for. Just that she did. So she paused for a second, only to shake her head a moment later.
"Just...thanks."
"...No. I didn't figure anything out. I think I'm even more confused." She paused, took a breath, thought. At least her entire brain wasn't trying to combust in on itself anymore. Talking to her sister and deep breathing, probably. Both of those were things that calmed her down, so combining them--and the distraction of Roaki's textile slaughter--had her thinking pretty straight again. "Buuuut I did figure out that I can't figure it out right now, and that I shouldn't worry about it until I can."
That was, of course, underselling the turmoil that was still boiling inside of her, threatening to burst out at any moment; Quinn was emotionally fragile at the best of times, and this was not exactly that. But she found that when she was with Roaki, it was a bit easier to keep it all down, to hide it and deal with it later. Perhaps it was an artifact of the way that they'd talked when Roaki was still in that room in medical, or perhaps it was just the ways that their personalities played. But even though she really did want to curl up in a ball again and keep crying some more, she...wasn't. A faint ghost of what might one day be a smile came to her face as she considered that Roaki could therefore be perhaps classified as a good influence. "So...thanks--"
She realized only after she said it that she didn't exactly know what she wanted to thank Roaki for. Just that she did. So she paused for a second, only to shake her head a moment later.
"Just...thanks."
Quinn...stared. At the clothing scattered around, the brutal fabric massacre covering essentially the entire common room of the dorms. Dahlia screaming at Roaki. Justifiably.
Stared some more, at the entire bizarre tableau.
Stared at Roaki, as she let fly a bunch more of Dahlia's clothes.
The spell was broken as a pair of balled-up socks bonked her in the nose, prompting a sneeze of alarm. Her eyebrow twitched, and the loud, jagged grinding in her head was nearly audible as her brain abruptly shifted gears that were not, at that moment, prepared to shift. Dahlia's stuff being thrown about--Dahlia yelling--Roaki doing it--Quinn's affection for Roaki--
The socks that had bounced off her face rolled to a stop a few feet away from her, and for a moment that felt frozen in time she just...stood there. And blinked. And stared at the socks, completely unsure what she should do in this situation.
Then the gears in her brain caught and started to move again, and something like a strangled growl crossed with a tired groan seeped from her throat. She marched up to Roaki, face caught in some bizarre triangulation between sadness, confusion, and stormy frustration. Taking care not to step on Dahlia's dress, she stood in front of the smaller--and legless--girl, took a deep breath, bent down, lifted her hand, and...
Flicked her once, gently. Right in the middle of the forehead. "Roaki, you..." she chided--then paused, and the chiding tone left her voice, to be replaced by restrained frustration. Still gentle, as Quinn always was with Roaki, but present nonetheless as Quinnlash's anger reared its head as well. "Apologize to Dahlia. Right now." She took another deep breath as she straightened, trying to quell the irritation and annoyance that were bubbling up in her. She'd had a long day. "You're acting like a child. You're better than this."
Stared some more, at the entire bizarre tableau.
Stared at Roaki, as she let fly a bunch more of Dahlia's clothes.
The spell was broken as a pair of balled-up socks bonked her in the nose, prompting a sneeze of alarm. Her eyebrow twitched, and the loud, jagged grinding in her head was nearly audible as her brain abruptly shifted gears that were not, at that moment, prepared to shift. Dahlia's stuff being thrown about--Dahlia yelling--Roaki doing it--Quinn's affection for Roaki--
The socks that had bounced off her face rolled to a stop a few feet away from her, and for a moment that felt frozen in time she just...stood there. And blinked. And stared at the socks, completely unsure what she should do in this situation.
Then the gears in her brain caught and started to move again, and something like a strangled growl crossed with a tired groan seeped from her throat. She marched up to Roaki, face caught in some bizarre triangulation between sadness, confusion, and stormy frustration. Taking care not to step on Dahlia's dress, she stood in front of the smaller--and legless--girl, took a deep breath, bent down, lifted her hand, and...
Flicked her once, gently. Right in the middle of the forehead. "Roaki, you..." she chided--then paused, and the chiding tone left her voice, to be replaced by restrained frustration. Still gentle, as Quinn always was with Roaki, but present nonetheless as Quinnlash's anger reared its head as well. "Apologize to Dahlia. Right now." She took another deep breath as she straightened, trying to quell the irritation and annoyance that were bubbling up in her. She'd had a long day. "You're acting like a child. You're better than this."
As Dahlia, clearly as shocked as she herself was, stumbled out questions, Quinn could only nod dumbly along, eye wide.
Yes, she should be dead. By all rights, from everything she knew of modium--which was more than a lot of people--she should've died a long time ago. Years. Modium did not pull its punches, and the idea of a growth sitting benign in her head for that long was--as far as she was aware--unprecedented. That she was alive at all was a miracle, and not a small one; and the fact that even her existing growth had never swelled after sessions in the cockpit just added another layer of unreality to the entire surreal thing.
And...yes. Yes, Follen had to know. He was the one that had come up with the idea for the surgery; and the one who'd prepared her for the surgery, cleared her for operating; and the one who'd performed the surgery, without ever telling Besca until it was already done. The idea that he didn't know was, frankly, impossible, especially since he'd tapped her on the growth just earlier that day. Why? Why did he--he had never done that before, why did he? And why didn't he ever tell her?
"I--"
Quinn's thoughts--dropped from their earlier racing babble--slowed in her head like molasses. The eyepatch in her lap felt suddenly like it weighed a hundred pounds, all pressing down on her. She wanted to run and hide but there was no way to run or hide from your own head, so she instead curled up against the wall again, staring down at her knees as she pulled them up to her chest. Her voice shook as she spoke:
"I don't know."
Yes, she should be dead. By all rights, from everything she knew of modium--which was more than a lot of people--she should've died a long time ago. Years. Modium did not pull its punches, and the idea of a growth sitting benign in her head for that long was--as far as she was aware--unprecedented. That she was alive at all was a miracle, and not a small one; and the fact that even her existing growth had never swelled after sessions in the cockpit just added another layer of unreality to the entire surreal thing.
And...yes. Yes, Follen had to know. He was the one that had come up with the idea for the surgery; and the one who'd prepared her for the surgery, cleared her for operating; and the one who'd performed the surgery, without ever telling Besca until it was already done. The idea that he didn't know was, frankly, impossible, especially since he'd tapped her on the growth just earlier that day. Why? Why did he--he had never done that before, why did he? And why didn't he ever tell her?
"I--"
Quinn's thoughts--dropped from their earlier racing babble--slowed in her head like molasses. The eyepatch in her lap felt suddenly like it weighed a hundred pounds, all pressing down on her. She wanted to run and hide but there was no way to run or hide from your own head, so she instead curled up against the wall again, staring down at her knees as she pulled them up to her chest. Her voice shook as she spoke:
"I don't know."
"Aww, if you say so. I'll see if I can bring you some food, 'kay?"
Haruhi's mouth opened to continue talking...then abruptly snapped shut again with alarming speed as she heard shouting in the street, followed by someone new arriving. And not someone that hadn't been at the forge before; she probably wouldn't have even stopped talking, were that the case. Someone...new.
"I am Captain Ashida Katsuro of the Blazing Fist." A pause. "I was hoping you could help me."
She didn't recognize his voice. She didn't recognize his name. She didn't recognize the organization he was part of. And hey, she was nothing if not friendly, she backed slightly away from Mio and poked her head out of the shop interior, preparing to go out and greet him. Though...she didn't recognize what he was carrying with him, either. She'd spent her whole life working with tools, more--she wagered--than most others in the valley because of her stubborn refusal to use Signs. She could tell the purpose of pretty much any tool on sight; a pick for breaking rocks, a kama for harvesting grain, an axe for splitting wood, a shovel for digging, a hoe and a plow for tilling the soil...
...She couldn't tell what this was, or what it did. But for some reason she didn't understand, looking at it sent a searing blast of anxiety and...terror racing up her spine like ice. As her mind stuttered and stopped and she nearly tripped over herself as she changed course from approach to retreat, she shrank away, stumbling backwards deeper into the shop and unable to take her eyes off of whatever the thing was that was in front of her. She dropped the hoe in her hand with a loud clatter and tipped over, falling to the hard floor with a muffle sound of surprise and pain.
Interactions: Mio @McMolly
© 2007-2024