ioduanlogs | Ilda’s August Catchall

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Ilda’s August Catchall

Characters: Ilda, Padparadscha, Yato, Zephyr, Rutile and YOU
Date: throughout August
Location: all over Aifaran
Situation: dealing with stuff from home, getting arrested, bonding with friends
Warnings/Rating: none so far except some angst and possible mentions of Ilda's sick sister, will add if anything comes up

A • BACK TO BEING JUST HALF A PAIR • Padparadscha • early August

Sitting on her bed that night, Ilda sighs. Empty again. It's not a big bed, so it had actually been cramped when Ivarr was around, but she didn't want to have it any other way. She's missing her family, her twin brother most especially; they've always shared a special bond, and it's a connection not even her closest friends can hope to replicate.

She sniffs, but quickly wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. "I'm not crying over you, you doofus," she mutters under her breath.

B • AIFARAN'S NEXT TOP MODEL • Yato + OPEN • early August

Ilda waits for Yato in the common area of the Dreaming Bridge, with obnoxiously large printouts of assorted models and dresses spread out on the table in front of her. They can just do this in her room, really, but she figures that the attention they'll be attracting — heaven knows they can both get loud when excited — will be beneficial for his wish-granting business. In fact, while waiting, she calls out to anyone passing by, soliciting opinions on the dresses and handing out business cards while she's at it.

C • TO BE A CHILD AGAIN • OPEN • August 8-14

Ilda shrieks as someone seemingly materializes from out of nowhere and crashes into her on the street. With the way she's reacted, one would think that she's been hurt, but the force of the impact hasn't been enough to send her to the ground, so her concern's clearly over something else.

Which is proven when she exclaims, "My yimo!"

D • YOU ARE UNDER ARREST (META 1) • Zephyr • mid-August

Ilda looks both confused and indignant as she finds herself arrested again. The last time had simply been a mistake — there was a gang who'd thought that pranking babysitters and accusing them of kidnapping was a fun idea — but now she's actually sitting in the Sentry's headquarters, handcuffed.

Now, if she'd been taken in for her vandalizing, she'd own up to it. But animal cruelty? All because she kicked the munga that bit her ankle?

"Don't I get a phone call? I'm supposed to get a phone call!" she insists. At least, that's how it works in those recorded productions over on the Lae.

It takes a while, but she finally persuades (*cough*) the arresting officer to hand her yimo back so she can make a call...

... which goes straight to voicemail.

You've reached Zephyr. Well, you haven't reached him. Leave a message.

She practically yells into the yimo, "ZEPHYR IT'S ILDA PLEASE PLEASE PRETTY PLEASE HELP ME I GOT ARRESTED I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHY BECAUSE I WAS JUST DEFENDING MYSELF OKAY SEE YOU BYE!"

E • LET'S TALK ABOUT LOVE, AND MAYBE TALENTS (META 1) • Rutile • mid-August

Ilda waits for Rutile nervously in a café somewhere far away from the Dreaming Bridge; it's one of those cozy types, all pillows and large stuffed animals and colorful decorations, with little neon sticky notes stuck on the booth walls for declarations of love and inspirational messages and all that jazz. When she'd asked to meet them, she didn't really say why, but they'd obliged, perhaps thinking that it's about Zephyr, since she's told them a lot.

She does want to talk about Zephyr, and get some perspective. But she also wants to talk about a more sensitive matter... at least in a café like this, what she might break are only the china.

F • HERE COMES THE STORM-BRINGER (FAITH 2) • OPEN • last week of August

Storm-bringer.

Ilda stares out into the ocean, lost in her thoughts, unflinching under the rain. She doesn't even seem to notice the angry waves crashing against her legs. This storm's hardly as massive as the first, but it's been strangely repetitive, having returned to the exact same spot for how many days now — and ironically where she'd been when the big one struck (on the beach, collecting shells and pretty stones).

She's not thinking about the storm, though; she knows it's going to be over in a few minutes, and having lived in a coastal village all her life, she's familiar with this kind of weather. Her thoughts are further away, back in sleepy little Mellifera, with her family. And Tolunai's reading, a month or so ago now, troubling and uncannily accurate.

The final card is what you must not do, no matter what. If there is a way to save your sister, it won't be by ducking your head down and doing what others do.

She's been trying to not to worry about her family's situation for the past months, keeping herself busy, entertaining herself with the shiny new things of the strange world she's suddenly found herself in. But to receive that reading, then to find her twin brother in the city, with distressing news from home? She's done her best to go back to pretending everything's alright, but it's been so much harder since Ivarr's left.

And now the natives, whispering that she's the fabled Storm-bringer...

Might that be the solution? To become, for the lack of a better term, a goddess of destruction?

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[Padparadscha doesn't sleep the same way living things do, and right now, they're sitting on the windowsill and taking in the tiny slivers of moonlight to keep themselves alert for a bit longer. They don't have the same advantage as Cinnabar does in being able to capture moonlight, but there's still barely enough light in there to keep a gem functional overnight.

They initially assume Ilda might be doing a living being version of the same thing, but then she speaks up and rubs at her face, and Padparadscha glances over with a faintly curious look. Why would someone be wiping their face like that...?]

Are you leaking? [Gems don't cry; it's considered a defect of living things to them.]

[ Ilda can't help but smile at the question, since it's always amused her that Padparadscha referred to crying as leaking. It's adorable, she thinks, and ever since she's met them, during that incident with the visions — Horrible Dream Night as Zephyr called it — she's been ready to use that term on her friends. But, whoops, who's leaking now?

She shifts to face them and the windowsill, and though she wants to pretend that everything's fine and she just has something in her eye, she ends up telling them the truth anyway. ]

Just a little. My twin... I kinda miss him.

Your twin? [Padparadscha seems curious for a moment before something occurs to them, and they nod in understanding.] Ah, like the Amethysts. I didn't realise living things could also emerge from the same stone.

[Or whatever the living thing equivalent of that is. Padparadscha hasn't exactly asked, and they don't know if Rutile has either despite their usual interest in the functions of living beings.]

Was he among the ones who passed through recently?

Peas from the same pod, pearls from the same oyster, something like that. [ She visibly begins to relax; such is the effect Padparadscha has on her. Perhaps she subconsciously remembers how they comforted her during Horrible Dream Night, how calm they always seem to be. ]

Yeah, he was one of those who visited. He was so weirded out by the city! Then again he’s doesn’t have much of an imagination. [ She says that with a laugh, and with a lot of fondness. ]

[That particular idea makes Padparadscha laugh a little as well, because they can't say they don't relate.] Well, it would be stranger for some than others. It's certainly very different to what I'm familiar with, so I imagine anyone else who came here from my own world would react strangely. It's just lucky Rutile reacts strangely to everything, really.

[Scientist that they are. Rutile is perhaps the gem best equipped to wind up emerging in a world like this one.]

[ That actually makes Ilda stop and think. She's been the type to welcome new things with open arms, ever the curious one... but as Padparadscha's said, it would be stranger for some than others. ] What's your world like? Is everyone there like you and Rutile? [ No disrespect there, just curiosity. ]

All the people who live on land are. [There's also the matter of the Lunarians, but that's probably best left unplumbed, at least for the sake of keeping Rutile at ease. And the matter of Adamant-sensei is certainly better left alone.] We live on what would be considered a small island here. The only building is the one we all live in. In winter, everything including the sea freezes over. It's very different to here.

Wow!

[ She practically flops on the bed, chin in hands. She’s not sure if they will keep answering her questions, but she’ll take what she can. She does close her eyes for a moment, imagining a frozen sea and a building of rocks inhabited by... well, rocks. They are rocks, aren’t they? She’s never really figured it out, and hasn’t mustered the courage to ask. ]

That must be pretty rough, though. The sea and everything frozen over! Where do you get food and water? Do you stock up on supplies in your building and huddle together and sleep for the rest of the winter? Or do you go to another island where everything doesn’t freeze over and have a festival?

[ Winter festivals are a thing in the world somewhere, she remembers being told. And that there are creatures who hibernate when it gets cold. But she doesn’t quite recall the specifics. ]

[The flurry of questions gets a slight laugh out of Padparadscha. Ilda hasn't asked anything invasive yet, not that Padparadscha would be likely to let her know if she did.]

We don't need food and water to function, only sunlight. But the light quality isn't enough to keep most of us active during winter, so most of us do hibernate for that time of the year.

[Padparadscha is almost always in hibernation, but they still remember that element from when they were awake more frequently.]

Sunlight? [ Her eyes flicker to the window — the sun’s definitely not out now. ] Oh! I’m sorry! Am I keeping you up? When you should be, um, sleeping...?

If it was a problem, you'd already know. We may not function best under moonlight, but it's enough to keep us moving.

[In the same way that while winter may make them lethargic, they could still force their way through it to some degree back home.]

So you don't need to sleep? You don't eat or drink... and you still don't get tired? Wow.

[ That's pretty cool. Sure, there's the sunlight limitation, but not needing to eat or drink or sleep sounds pretty convenient. ]

It suits us best to rest when there's little light, but we don't need it in the way living things do. Even if we do tire under the right circumstances.

[Mostly in circumstances like winter coming at strange times, but that tends to take weeks to set in anyway.]

Gee, I never thought we fleshy creatures were so high maintenance! Leaking from too much emotion and needing food and water... [ She laughs good-naturedly. ] Can I be like you instead?

I think that might be a little hard for something organic. [Padparadscha's smile tweaks up slightly. They're not going to mention the nature of their world, but needless to say an organic creature would probably need some several hundred or thousand years to be broken down and reform.] Better to live as what you are without reservations.

Live as you are with no reservations... I like that!

[ She giggles and actually rolls around the bed.

And repeats, like she's quoting a mantra: ] Live as you are with no reservations.

[Padparadscha gives a difficult-to-read smile from their position on the windowsill. They're not unused to having their advice taken rather seriously, so they can only hope nothing unforeseen comes of it.]

If you've finished leaking for the moment, perhaps it would be best for you to rest.

What.

No, really, what.

Zephyr eyes his yimo at arm's length like this will somehow make the message make more sense. How did she get arrested? Why is he the first person she thought to call? These, and many other questions.

But ultimately he can't actually say no to such a heartfelt plea; and before very much longer he is down at the Sentry station, hands shoved in his pockets and shoulders slouched, looking exceptionally and intentionally casual. If it's a misunderstanding, maybe it's been cleared up already; if not, he can at least vouch for her character, or... something. Depends what she's been accused of. Now where's she gotten to...?

"ZEPHYR!" Ilda practically squeals from her seat as soon as she spots him, and it doesn't make the arresting officer look less annoyed. She waves him over with handcuffed hands, strangely energetic for someone who might be headed for jail.

Of course she's thrilled. He actually showed up for her! There'd been a moment in which she thought she should've just called Sheena and risk being yelled at, but hey! Zephyr came through! He's here!

The officer doesn't seem impressed, though. Or maybe she's a little miffed that Ilda has such a good-looking boyfriend. (He's got to be a boyfriend, right?) "You know this kid?" she asks him, poker-faced while the blonde's being all starry-eyed in the background.

Oh, she's very handcuffed. And very loud. Zephyr shoots a quick glance her way, but he can't exactly go straight for her to figure out what's going on here, since there's a Sentry officer involved here.

Zephyr runs a hand back through his hair and sighs, resigned to his fate. "Yeah, I know her," he says, shoving his hands into his pockets with a casual slouch which is more or less designed to appear non-threatening. "Pretty harmless, honestly. What's the story here?"

The glance... practically has Ilda melting into her seat. It subdues her, at least. Somewhat.

But it also intensifies her goo-goo-eyed staring at Zephyr.

The officer, on the other hand, just raises an eyebrow at 'harmless'. The blonde might look all sweet and innocent, but looks can be deceiving, and she's pretty sure she'd seen Ilda kick the poor creature. "Animal cruelty. Kicked a munga."

"I did not!" Ilda protests, squirming in her seat; for a moment one might worry she's going to launch herself at the Sentry officer. "It bit my ankle! I just shook it off! What was I supposed to do, let it snack on the rest of my leg?"

Edited 2018-08-29 02:10 (UTC)

"...I mean, I'll vouch for her character, if you want," Zephyr says dubiously. Generally defending oneself from venomous wildlife wins, in his estimation, but he's not too clear on where that falls if the venomous wildlife is also a little bit domesticated. He shoves his hands in his pockets. "You got a witness on this one who's contradicting what she says?"

Self-defense is a great case, and that he'll be happy to argue all day. Unless they've specifically got someone who says they saw her attacking a defenseless something or other, Zephyr is pretty sure there's no leg to stand on.

It occurs to him, and he turns to Ilda. "Are you bleeding?" Hurt enough to need actual healing intervention, is what this translates as.

Rutile has been in several cafes at this point - they have become a frequent patron of Die Rose Tulpe, thanks to their burgeoning friendships with Leo and the Fool - but the one Ilda has selected is quite beyond them. Frankly, it does remind them of Ilda, with its whimsical bead trappings and fluffy things, and notes declaring passionate love. Why you need a note to do such a thing, and in a cafe, is quite beyond them. It's the kind of thing Ilda must like, though.

It takes them a minute of wandering to find where Ilda is sitting, and when they do, the nervousness in the child's expression is apparent. Rutile finds themselves hoping they're here to talk about talents or something rather than Ilda's date with Zephyr a few months ago: they know about as much of human mating rituals as they do humans; that is, not enough to be useful.

No matter. They're already here, so they sit across from Ilda and delicately slide their menu away, signaling that they will not be ordering. They smile as they say, "It's nice to see you in person again, without so much chaos."

"Hi I'm so glad you came thank you," Ilda says in a rush, clearly nervous. She almost seems to be bouncing in her seat, and her gaze moves nervously from Rutile to her hands to the table to the random things around them. "It's so nice here, isn't it? So cute and colorful and these pillows are so soft—"

She'd been meaning to stall, but mentioning soft pillows has brought her to the first item in her agenda. She swallows, fidgeting. "Um. So... it's nice to see you... but I really owe you an apology. I think." She wouldn't look at them now. "The shop window. It's my fault. I still don't know how it happens but... but...."

The story comes out of her in one breath, somehow. "I got arrested for kicking a munga but I didn't really kick it, it bit my ankle and it was so painful and I screamed and then it just flew away and I think there was a little earthquake I'm not sure but anyway the Sentry person thought I kicked it and arrested me for animal cruelty and brought me to jail and thankfully Zephyr came when I called him because I don't want to get arrested it's so boring in prison!"

Rutile rolls their eyes and laughs, bemused, at Ilda's rambling. In a more tense situation it would be an annoyance, but in such a relaxed atmosphere it is more endearing than anything else. Ilda hasn't a care in the world, really; there is nothing to her beyond life in the moment and idle pastimes. It reminds Rutile of -

Their laughter fades. Of someone they'd rather not think of.

When Ilda's demeanor changes suddenly into one of anxiety and distress, Rutile perks up and pays attention, somewhat surprised. They hold up a hand just as Ilda starts talking about prison. "Slow down, Ilda, please," they say sternly. "You seem to be alright now; upsetting yourself so is not productive.

"And what does this have to do with the window? I thought that had been resolved." Thanks to the bulk of my rhinn, they add internally.

Slow down. Okay. Ilda nods obediently and inhales deeply, doing so at least three times. She even leans back against the pillows for good measure... ah, so soft and comfortable! Now where was she?

Right. The window.

“It wasn’t an accident, I’m sorry. I wasn’t sure then, but after what happened with the munga...” She stopped twisting her hands and glanced at Rutile, but she couldn’t hold her gaze and had to look away. “I realized it’s my Talent.”

She twists in her seat so her back faces them, and she pulls up her hair as if to tie it up in a high ponytail, exposing the Destruction tattoo on the nape of her neck.

Rutile's eyes go wide, and whatever chagrin they may have at having to pay for the havoc wreaked by Ilda's talent is forgotten in light of this revelation. With a soft and hasty "May I?", they leave their seat and sit on the table near Ilda, gently reaching out to turn her head for a better look at the tattoo on her neck.

"Oh, this is interesting," Rutile says. "This is a symbol of Destruction, yes? Then I suppose..."

They sit back and give Ilda another peculiar glance, this one more like a scold. "The earthquake was you, then."

“I didn’t do it on purpose, I swear!” Ilda wants to look at Rutile so they can see how sincere she is, but she’s not sure if they’re done examining the tattoo, so she doesn’t move from her position. She’s beginning to feel awkward at having to sit still, though.

“But I really am sorry for what happened. I can pay you back however much they asked you for the window.” It shouldn’t be too hard for her to earn the required amount, at least given enough time. “And I can talk to Valdis and, um, clear things up with her? Or apologize? I have other things to apologize for. Like posting her pictures on Xa Xa.” Whoops, she’s beginning to ramble again.

Rutile is still examining the tattoo, yes, but they let Ilda go around the time she starts rambling about apologies. They sit back and cross one leg over the other, taking advantage of a rare increase in height from having perched on the table.

"Yes, you ought to apologize for that," they agree. "I know you meant well, but it was disrespectful to Valdis's private life and professional character. She could have gotten in a lot of trouble, and it would have been your fault.

"But you owe me nothing for the window. It is not your place to get between me and Valdis, and further, it still wasn't your fault," they say, only slightly more gently. "You didn't mean to cause an earthquake. I did still break the window, but frankly, being made of such flimsy material, it deserved to be broken."

They reach behind them and pick up a menu, proffering it to Ilda. "We can talk about your talent when you're prepared to be calm about it."

Ilda nods, ducking her head in embarrassment. She may be undisciplined, but she's not unreasonable, and she actually listens when she's scolded. Of course, there's no telling if she can actually stop herself from repeating her mistakes, but at least one can be assured that she'll bother to try.

She only looks back up when she's handed the menu, and she takes it as a sign of reconciliation. She offers them a small, subdued smile, but one that's genuine regardless. "Thank you. Um..." The smile turns a little sheepish as she dares to ask, "Are you like Padparadscha, too? You only eat sunlight?"

It's not a sign of reconciliation as much as one saying we're moving on now - like Rutile said, there's nothing to reconcile. It's a little funny to see Ilda cowed, though; Rutile has the sense that doesn't happen often.

They slip off the table and return to their seat as Ilda asks about sunlight. Their eyes go wide a bit with surprise. "Gracious," they murmur, "what has Padparadscha been telling you?"

That's what happens when you let a layman do a scientist's job, though.

"You have the right idea of it," they explain, "but it's not quite correct. Padparadscha and I are more like plants; we do draw our energy from sunlight, but we don't eat it. Light is too immaterial for that."

What has Padparadscha been telling her? "Oh, he caught me crying once and he asked if I was leaking, which I still think it's funny," she starts to blab, missing the point that it was rhetorical, "and then we talked about how you don't need food and water and how you eat sunlight instead and I also asked him if I can be like you because fleshy people are too high maintenance!"

At Rutile's mention of plants, she purses her lips together. What does she know about plants, other than they need sunlight and water to grow? She's never really given plants much thought, since they seem to just always be... there. Existing and persisting over the years. (She hasn't been in a single science class, and her homeschooling's on more practical matters like money and fishing.) "So... you magically turn sunlight into energy?"

Rutile does not need to blink, but in the fact of Ilda's onslaught of chatter, they do. This is certainly a lot to take in at once - they have their work cut out for them.

"Ah, well, it's not quite magic," they say, tapping a finger on their thigh. "It is a series of chemical reactions incited by the particular properties of light that eventually create energy for the plant to use. Except in our case, it's not plants that do it, but tiny things living inside our bodies called inclusions. They're finicky little creatures, and can be demanding.

"That does mean, however," Rutile goes on - in full lecture and conjecture mode - "that no, you cannot be like us." They grin at the thought; from amusement, not condescension. "It's very convenient not to have to eat or drink or deal with waste or worry about caring for children like living things do, but our bodies come with their own pitfalls. You should be glad of the body you were born into, leaks and all."

Ilda's beginning to get tempted to just nod and pretend she understands what Rutile's saying, but when they say 'tiny things living inside our bodies' her eyes grow wide. Partly in surprise, in amazement, and, well, in horror.

And as they continue with their lecture, her imagination starts to take hold. It's a little creepy, really; Ilda pictures her insides being overrun by little sea crabs, only they're brightly rainbow-colored and they mutter to each other in high-pitched squeals as they dance in a conga line while carrying her blood or flesh or whatever inside their glittery shells. Yuck.

Then she remembers what Padparadscha told her a couple of nights ago, and finally understands the wisdom of it. "Y-Yeah," she says with a sheepish smile, almost like she's been listening and not at all imagining her doom, horror flick style. "That's what Padparadscha said, too. That I should just live as I am, with no reservations." Her smile turns a little roguish as she adds, "Leaks and all."

Whatever Ilda is imagining that causes her face to contort so, it is almost certainly inaccurate. Perhaps now is the wrong time for a science lesson.

"I should just live as I am, with no reservations."

"That certainly sounds like something Padparadscha would say," they reply, matching Ilda's smile. "And it probably refers to your talent, too - though you should be a little more careful about that."

Rutile leans one elbow on the table, their thoughts returning to Ilda's original concerns. "About that. Do you know very much about it? You cause earthquakes, yes; but have you any knowledge of their strength or frequency? I suppose experimentation has not been a priority..."

Feeling restless, Sheena had grabbed an umbrella and headed for the beach. Waves crashing against the shore just called to the ninja--worldly elements vying against and working with each other to balance out the world.

Or, she could just be homesick since she grew up near the ocean as well as a forest.

At first, she's not sure she's seeing what she's seeing, but as she grows closer, she can clearly see that it's Ilda, standing there unprotected. And right away, Sheena knows there's something wrong. Ilda doesn't just stand still. Even when she's stopped, she's vibrating with energy.

Concern is clearly etched on her face when she comes up to the other woman and shares her umbrella.

"Are you all right, Little Sister?"

The rain hadn’t been bothering her, not really, and she’s already drenched so there’s not much an umbrella could do at this point, but Ilda appreciates the gesture nonetheless. She turns to Sheena with a small, sad smile. “Hi, Big Sister.”

Then she looks back out at the ocean. She doesn’t say anything for a while, but when she finally decides to, she takes a deep breath to steel herself. “I’ve been thinking. About saving my sister. There’s a way, but...” She stares down at her hands, which she holds out in front of her, palms facing upward. “The ends justify the means — do you believe in that?”

Well, Sheena's not about to let her get wetter in any case. Especially after she sees that smile.

Her concern skyrockets, but she remains calm, following the other woman's gaze towards the ocean. And as it had taken Ilda to speak, Sheena takes some time to think about what she said before answering. Sometimes the means are justified, and sometimes they're not--especially if innocents are injured.

"What is the means, Ilda?"

Ilda doesn’t skirt around the issue for once. She knows what the other girl’s asking, and doesn’t pretend otherwise. Surprisingly, it’s now easier for her to talk about it; maybe because she’s already opened the proverbial can of worms. And maybe also because they have bonded over the past months, becoming as close as the sisters they claim to be.

“Something dangerous. High chance of death.” She lowers her hands to her sides and turns back to Sheena, smiling wryly. “If I get caught.”

Even one-handed, Sheena's able to cross her arms. "Is this what prompted all those questions about breaking out of prison?" she asks dryly.

Shaking her head, she continues.

"Well," she says, probably about to surprise the young woman. "That's not something I haven't heard--or participated in--before, Ilda. So, I can't--and won't--judge you." Her tone becomes even gentler.

"What's going on?"

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Ilda’s August Catchall

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