sticksandbones IC Inbox / Magic & Blessings

[cryopathy]

kiera canorus aurelius

netbook · overflow

©

weasel's note: kiera's handwriting is a neat, flowing script somewhere between print and cursive.

they can most often be found at the barn, either tending to animals or in the attached stablemaster's quarters, or at the watchtower bar, either as a patron or occasionally tending bar.

plotting contact: PM // discord @ fuckweasel

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[cryopathy]

[the glare kiera shoots him could kill enough people at once to be classified as a war crime. there's another few changes in rapid succession that ultimately do culminate in kiera's human form, but unfortunately for both of them, it also involves another burst of cold, wet slush. kiera's own hair is not safe, so naturally, neither is luca.

she ends up sitting in the middle of the floor, sopping wet and extremely grumpy, but also defeated. there's not enough energy in her voice to denote outright malice.]

That was a word. That was at least five words.

[unheiring]

[Well, intentionally or not, Kiera gets their revenge by utterly dousing him. The resulting squawk is both surprised and utterly offended.]

Kiera - [But he knows, knows they didn't mean it for once. And honestly, it's so ridiculous that he finds himself laughing despite the sudden chill.]

You bitch.

[cryopathy]

[well, at least one of them can find the humor in this situation. as for kiera, they decide to just flop onto their back, puddle of cold water beneath them be damned.]

Take it up with the popped skeyeball. What should be as easy as breathing feels like learning to read a new language with absolutely no context.

[unheiring]

Is it comforting to know you are not the only one?

[Luca turns away, heading into their washroom to grab the best, most fluffiest towel. It's dropped, unceremoniously, atop their head, before he goes to hunt down some dry clothes for them as well.]

My flames are little more than sparks and spurts at this point. It took hours for my wounds to finally patch themselves up. Mind you, I am not complaining, considering how slow I was healing prior to that.

[cryopathy]

[when they see him with their nicest towel, they can't help but huff in indignation... unnecessarily, seeing as he ends up giving it to them. they almost feel bad, taking it to their own hair while he's still soaked.]

Oh? You mean at a normal human pace? [there's a smirk to their tone, as if ever in their life they, themself, have taken "a normal human pace" to heal.]

[unheiring]

Beasts, no. That was the week prior.

[He lifts a hand instinctively, rubbing at where his shoulder had been run through. A shiver passes through him, one that he distracts himself from by picking out the softest clothing he can find. He returns to their side, laying it in a nearby dry spot.]

I am going to dry off in the washroom. Let me know when you are decent. [A pause, then an amused huff.] And spare me the "I am never decent" joke that I know you are plotting.

[cryopathy]

[the motion of luca's hand isn't lost on kiera, although the senses that might pick up on fresh wounds don't seem to be any better off than her control over shape or elements. there's a deep frown in their face as he makes his way into the other room.]

I am never -- [it's instinct, easy enough to start even with the concern filling their mind.] -- ah, you wiseass. Get along, then, before I decide to flood the place.

[unheiring]

[His resultant laugh is light enough that, hopefully, it will assuauge any of her worries. The wound itself had healed. Now it was a memory that he'll have to bring up before long. Kiera won't be happy, but at least he would have good news to go along with it.

Before he steps in, he does reach into their stash and grabs a shirt for himself. Whatever the style, it'll have to work.

When he emerges, his hair has been largely towel dried, and his feathers look equally as tousled, but at least he doesn't look quite as miserable.]

So. Do I lecture you now, or later?

[cryopathy]

[kiera, on the other hand, while in dry clothes, can do nothing about their own mass of sopping hair. there's far too much of it for one towel to absorb, and usually, they would use wind to blow dry it themself... they suppose they'll just have to put it up in a bun for now.

there's a hint of panic in their eyes at luca's question, but they force their tone to remain level.]

What could you possibly have to lecture me about? I think I'll head over to the inn; at least the ambient heat of the fireplace might help dry all of this fluff.

[unheiring]

Not the bar? I hear the hearth has been well-tended, and that there is good company beside. I cannot imagine how long it's been since you have had a drink.

[Which, all told, probably indicates that he has no idea as to what happened. He wouldn't casually be offering drinks if he knew about their death. That faint hint of panic isn't lost on him, but he chalks it up to Kiera being nervous about being iced out again.

Silently, Luca kicks himself for ever having pushed her away.]

I meant avoiding me as you did. I know we fought, but...

[cryopathy]

Only if you think it appropriate for me to lie down beside it and drape all my hair across the floor.

[your choice, luca!

they straighten up, haphazardly tossing the spent towel on the nearest soaked surface. their place is going to be a wreck... well, it already is, but give it a week or so and it'll be moldy too.]

Was it a fight? I thought we came to an agreement. If I was avoiding you, well, it's rather humiliating to be stuck in such a pathetic, helpless state. [none of this is an outright lie.]

[unheiring]

It is early enough in the day. I highly doubt you would disturb anyone so terribly.

[And if they did, Luca would have words for them. It's his establishment, after all. He gets to decide who is allowed in and who is not.]

We still squabbled all the same. [He shrugs loosely as he holds the door open for them as they retreat.] And... admittedly, I did confront River.