Ilda’s August Catchall

[ilda]

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?

Comments

E

[rutility]

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."

[ilda]

"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!"

[rutility]

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.

[ilda]

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.

[rutility]

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."

[ilda]

“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.

[rutility]

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]

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?"

[rutility]

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."

[ilda]

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?"

[rutility]

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]

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."

[rutility]

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..."