(inbox.)

[abhorrently]

text | action | delivery | etc.

Comments

[blindwatchersees]

There's a knock at her cabin door.

[abhorrently]

And as could be expected, she's going to open it. It can't be Demona - the woman has her own key to the room. So it's someone looking for the gargoyle or Fever herself.

[blindwatchersees]

There's no one standing outside, but a butterfly is clinging to the peephole of the door. It looks ill, its wings crumpled and marked with luminous, ice-blue veins.

[abhorrently]

Very, very carefully, she reaches out to touch it, to scoop it from the peephole. In her hands, no one else is going to be able to hurt it. Poor thing. The strangeness of its presence goes unremarked upon.

[blindwatchersees]

It feels as cold as ice in her hands. It barely moves. Faint eddies of color come and go in its scales, the brilliance sucked away just as quickly by the parasitic veins sapping vital life from the poor creature's wings. Its spots shift into patterns of screaming, wailing faces, distorted on the surface of shriveled wings.

[abhorrently]

It's so close to expiring. She brings it in her room, quickly, eyes wide with confusion and worry, and carefully tries to turn it over to see if she can find the source of the veins. If it's another creature that can be removed, or if this is all there is - if it's being consumed, and it can't be helped.

Maybe, maybe, if her magic is careful, it can help. She tries to feel for something, anything in the being that would allow a foothold.

[blindwatchersees]

As she looks it over, a tiny voice, softer than a baby's breath, reaches her ears.

"Don't let him take my soul..."

[astrogator]

I have good news!

A package arrived for me today. It contained a beacon. A genuine long-range Tradeline beacon, far more powerful than my makeshift effort.

Everything is coming together.

[ooc: Ari is sending this to everyone in the group, feel free to chat with her or just treat it as a standalone message if we already have multiple other threads ongoing - up to you!]

text

[astrogator]

[sent right in the middle of this!]

MUTINY!

The ship is ours and the rules no longer apply. Try it out right now! They can't stop all of us. Start a fire! Take some goods without a pointless charade! For fun, for freedom, just because you can!

[Yes you got this too! In case you should need a plausible reason for your involvement...]

delivery

[goodweather]

[ At the foot of Fever's door, a rubber duck appears, bearing a remarkable resemblance to her. It squeaks. ]

[abhorrently]

[what a curious thing. she has no idea where it's come from, but she likes it very much.

the Duck Urge will be looked after and squeaked occasionally.]

[not_the_last]

At about four in the morning, after this conversation, a text comes in on Fever's phone.

I have been thinking about it and I am afraid I still cannot agree that there is no difference between hurting innocents and hurting one's captor.

[abhorrently]

Guess who's normally up at bizarre hours, Cassandra?

of course there's a difference
which is why i said it's different to strike at your foe vs your allies

[not_the_last]

Then I don't understand why you would say that striking at one's captor would make one the same as him.

[abhorrently]

i said enslaving him would make us the same as him
the key word in that sentence is enslaving

[not_the_last]

I can understand that enslaving anyone may be a line you won't cross. That still doesn't make it the same thing.

[abhorrently]

throwing someone into the torment they would do anything to escape is rather comparable and you're not changing my mind
there's a reason there may be many degrees of murder but it's all murder
is the fact that i want your freedom and his so unthinkable to you?

[not_the_last]

I don't care whether you want his freedom or not, and I don't care if you find the idea of enslaving him intolerable. Neither of those have anything to do with it.

[blindwatchersees]

At the beginning of September, he appears on her doorstep, with two prettily-wrapped boxes tied together with a bow.

"Surprise!" he chirps, as she opens the door. "A very merry unbirthday to you!"

[abhorrently]

"My unbirthday? That is a surprise, I didn't even know that was today!"

She'll welcome him in, accepting the boxes and offering an embrace with her free arm. That's important to do before she might open the boxes and see the contents.

There is a change, in her space - the art that belonged to the previous resident has been cleared out. In its place, in the pre-existing frames, are sketches of nature around the island, formed by an observant hand.

[blindwatchersees]

“Oh, I love the new art. Comrade Jean’s, if I’m not mistaken?” He’s grinning from ear to ear.

[abhorrently]

"Yes! They gifted me with some sketches, and I thought they'd do very nicely. You're familiar with their work?"

She's asking, but she's also unwrapping the boxes, undoing the ribbon and opening them to see whatever he's chosen to bestow upon her.

[blindwatchersees]

Both boxes contain a set of ornamental combs. One set is shaped like butterfly wings, colorfully enameled, while the other set resembles bolts of lightning. The latter wouldn’t make for a bad improvised weapon, in a pinch.

“Yes. I’ve sat sketching with them before, actually.”

[abhorrently]

"Oh, Father, they're beautiful. Thank you."

Lifting one of each out of the boxes, she moves to the mirror to immediately try them out, rearranging her hair to do so. She's a fan of both the sets and the contrast, and touched that he thought of her so. No need to ask what gave him the idea - it could just as easily have been nothing as it is something. Unbirthday, as he said.

[blindwatchersees]

He watches her examining the combs with quiet delight.

"I haven't gotten you something nice in a while. I thought now was as good a time as any."