i'm the motherfucking ungrateful

[inkdamage]

Who: SEVTEL
What: Martel fucked himself up with magic. Severus gets to fix it.
Where: ~the apothecary basement.
When: AHAHA A REALLY LONG TIME AGO
Notes: SO BACKDATED, SORRY
Warnings: Comic book WIZARD SCIENCE, some mild eye gore.

( my heart is hateful )

001 | OPEN. whatever was inside you is gone now.

[norea]

Who: Hasibe Ozcelik, open
What: Exploring and a bit of creepiness. MAYBE GHOSTS? ROBBERS? Who knows!
Where: A shady area of town.
When: TODAY.
Notes: I am literally just making stuff up with the door thing. If you let me I will make it into a tiny fun thing to poke at for a day but ultimately it is not plot related or important.
Warnings: Hasi exists, thus ridiculousness follows.

It is normal, Hasi supposes, to forget how much stuff you need on a daily basis. Sheets and forks and clothes (lots of clothes) and a million other little things--they're all part of the make-up of living, and some of them she can manage with cheats, but she prefers not to use magic all the time for everything. Not least because it starts to wear at her after a while, but also because it feels sort of dishonest.

Still, starting over is never easy. She's done it before, so she feels capable, but it's a bit of a jolt.

Two days after her arrival, she accepts, reluctantly, that she's probably not going anywhere any time soon, and takes up a table at the Inn's lobby in order to spread out newspaper clippings and local magazine articles. Most of them are on show business, but there are more than a few that are on politics, hidden amongst the others, as though she's calculatedly made them blend in. In the afternoon, she abandons her table (and its newspapers) for the Skyrail, which she thinks sounds interesting enough to demand exploration while she gets around town.

A shop in the next neighborhood over advertises itself as selling certain acrobatic supplies, and she meanders through the market in question, wrapping her coat a little tighter around herself. The chill doesn't affect her the way it ought to, but sometimes she finds herself playing up her reaction to the cold just because it always looks strange if she feels winter but is never bothered by it. It doesn't quite fit with the ruse, and she's playing up her feeling of being a stranger in a strange world in the market; she looks lost, and she's deliberately not paying too much attention to where she's going.

That fades when she leaves the market, a bag of supplies for her aerial routine in hand (and it cost her a bit more than she should like, but she's not good at minding her money--not to mention she already knows how she'll survive) and a destination in mind. The neighborhood she goes to next is dotted with fairly seedy-looking bars, shoved in between old, dilapidated brick buildings, and she's not completely certain anyone is home, despite the ad she's answering asserting that auditions are that day from twelve to seven. She heads up the stoop to the old building, amusedly ignoring the sound of catcallers from the bar next door, and knocks at the door.

No answer.

She frowns, and takes a step backward, glancing up at the windows. Hasi is able to make out some dim light, but she can't be certain that means anyone is home. She resigns herself to a lack of response, however, and carefully makes her way back down the stairway. Once she hits the sidewalk, the door she was just knocking at blows open with a loud crack of wood on the steel railing. Hasi doesn't quite jump, but she does turn quickly.

It's jarring, and even in Baedal, she's pretty sure, decidedly not normal. Especially since no one's actually behind the now-open door.

( OOC note: )