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[ okay, will is alive, maya is alive, they're in vista vris, check. maya is rehydrating and actually eating food and starting to feel like a person again. will is safe!!!!! ]
[ what could go wrong? ]
sometime in week 2 of june, after the sharkening and subsequent Bad Decisions
[ So. Lyrabar. A beautiful city, full of wonder and mischief and people who perhaps really do mean well in the long run, if only they'd stop it with the money laundering and rampant capitalism. A month isn't long enough to see all that it has to offer, let alone a week.
It's such a shame about the local wildlife. Such a shame indeed.
This is... after that. How long after is hard to say, exactly, as time stopped making sense when they woke up. Which is probably bad? Like how the strange not-quite-hole in their memories is classifiable as 'bad', especially since they don't know what it was, only that it was- important, an anchor keeping a box of glass shards swept safely out of reach. Being alone makes it worse, but finding him didn't-
they couldn't-
and the thought of testing the Oath and hearing nothing but silence was too awful to risk. So the next best thing was just waiting it out, somewhere near enough to people that they'd follow along out of reflexive habit, or at the very least be watched for further signs of Stupidity. If they can just hold on for a little while, they can find him and work out what happened. Right?
Yeah, bad idea in hindsight. They didn't need reminding of that, thanks much, Qrow. And the longer that conversation went on, the worse that feeling got, until the bubbling anger and shame-worry-fear and everything else threatened to become something truly Unfortunate - so they left! Hid like a bad dream and ran all the way home.
This leads to now, where there's a muffled thump against a particular door in a particular part of the royal guard apartments. The kind of thump that comes from someone not seeing a door at all until it very rudely stopped them. ]
mid part 1 wonderland. when? eh, casinos don't have clocks.
[Erika is not, historically, a patient teacher. Wonderland is also not the most...informationally sterile environment for this kind of learning.
Circumstances demand actions. Lion is capable of making up the distance.
A distant strike. Clatter. Chime. Peal of laughter. Erika on the ground, in some little seating area under a tall and fake-looking plant, eyes closed and arms slightly raised while her familiar (its name is Huizi. it has been decided) dances up in the vault of the ceiling.]
...So it's a bit too easy to lose balance while scrying. [She opens her eyes and lets her arms fall, slowly.] Especially if you're trying not to be obvious. The sensation doesn't match up to what you see, and you compensate incorrectly...I think it's even worse when the angle is close, or you can see yourself. Only practice makes it easier.
time is fake. you know what isnt fake? butterflies.
[ They'd been more then a little relieved when Erika kidnapped them for butterfly training, honestly, it's been a nightmare trying to figure out how it all works. And they could change their familiar to something bigger, but that felt-
No. Today is not a day for those kinds of worries. Today is for learning. They're resting on the same bench, eyes shut as they ease into the weird not-space of familiar projection. ]
Mm, I've run into the disorientation that brings already. Looked at myself by accident when I tried flying for the first time, and, well...
[ At the moment, their golden butterfly familiar is perched on their head, wings fluttering nervously. ]
I can only imagine that it would feel worse if I was moving around at the same time. Physically, I mean.
Honestly, I've never been in a situation where it's useful to be moving around quickly and using Huizi at the same time. Though it would be cool. [Like...can you imagine the action scene...that would own. She closes her eyes again and takes a few steady steps in a straight line, arms lifting unconsciously again.] Usually it's a range problem. Wanting to automatically follow and extend it when we...hm, like this.
[She comes up from her concentration and turns to Lion, holding her wrist out to the golden familiar for a perch.]
Knowing our luck, it's a skill that we'll need eventually. Doing one thing blind while tailing someone else with a familiar.
[ Which- okay now they've gone and jinxed it, haven't they. And they can't stop and worry about it. Hhhhhhhh. ]
It... would be cool to watch, though.
[ Right on cue, the butterfly shakily takes flight and loops it's way over to Erika's hand. They're still getting the hang of this whole 'independant flight' thing, apparently. ]
Erika turns and walks off. Ten feet. Twenty feet. Steadily forward, at a normal pace. The thirty-foot limit nears, and she slows just a little. Decision time, Lion.]
[ Decisions, decisions. They haven't exactly tried sending their familiar too far yet- and it might prove a point if they let it happen. And also they're just curious how the rubber-band sensation feels in person. ]
Go ahead.
[ The butterfly settles on her wrist, as Lion braces themself. ]
This is the outer limit, [she explains lowly to the golden butterfly as she shuffles towards it.] There's a "bad signal" band right at the end where the connection flickers before it actually cuts out.
[It has been a long few weeks. Lucretia has been conscious for some of them. Most of them? She's still catching up on the passage of time as it relates to her own perception. The first priority is to focus on the moment. The second is to focus on the future. The past comes in last.]
[But there is one thing she remembered with crystalline clarity from the moment she regained consciousness: Lion, holding an umbrella, determined to get some answers.]
[It's a few days after the flood of new arrivals, and indeed as soon as she's able, that she sends a message.]
Lion. [Quietly; with the faint hint of a smile in her voice, albeit a tired one.] I believe I owe you some answers. Would you be willing to meet with me?
[ To say they didn't expect her to actually remember, or to prioritise contacting them if she did, would be an understatement. There's only the smallest of pauses before they reply. ]
I- um, of course, Director-san. [ Despite the surprised stutter, they're aiming for "cautiously polite" but the exhaustion makes it hard to pinpoint. ] Where would you like me to meet you?
[ They have one other place to stop first - namely, sprinting to Will and slapping a Ceremony on him - but that's hopefully quick enough that they don't need to mention it. ]
That's perfectly fine with me. I'll make my way over shortly.
[ They're sorely tempted to stop by Bender for two mugs of painkiller peach tea, but it's probably not wise to make her wait longer, given they've already got one side jaunt planned. So the idea is fondly regarded and discarded in short order.
It's not long before there's a polite knock on Lucretia's office door. Even with an explicit invitation they're wary of just wandering inside, so they (and the Umbrella, tucked carefully under one arm) will wait outside until called. ]
Ah, Director-san? It's Lion. I... brought the Umbrella with me, too, in case you wanted to see it.
[Lucretia, standing on ceremony as usual, is standing — well, leaning, half on the edge of her desk and half on her staff. When she sees Lion, she smiles at them warmly, if not incredibly tiredly.]
Come in. Please, sit.
[There is a very comfortable plush chair on the other side of her desk, which she directs Lion towards, but the statement is also framed less as a request and more as a plea. Once Lion sits, she can also sit, which she very badly needs to do. Ow, the whole body.]
[. . . Also, as Lion passes the threshold, she blinks pensively, as if noticing something about them that she hadn't when they were standing outside. Interesting.]
[ The instant Lucretia said Thay was going to be part of a time loop was the same instant he wanted nothing to do with it. Too many bad memories, bad omens; even ignoring Lion's hangups, it sounded like a recipe for having to murder witches again. The request to be reassigned elsewhere was filed immediately. Lucretia, thankfully, was keeping to the word that no one was being forced into it. So the month where everyone dealt with the nightmare of Unstable Time Loops was, for everyone outside it, mostly silent.
The narrative could wax poetic on how November was spent, but it doesn't matter here. All that does is that it was a month spent as gophers and December's assignment is in New New Aspen, helping set up the always-extreme Candlemas Or Whatever celebrations. There are no deadly snowstorms or illusionary globes. Even the amount of Shadow Vultures has gone down considerably. Cats are still a menace, but the terror isn't nearly as bad without the distinct memory of it as a chaser. Dare we say it's peaceful.
Or as peaceful as being in a comically-huge fir tree trying to strip off branches is, anyway. From witch hunter to wood hunter. Zweihanders can count as axes with enough force, right? Right. ]
[ Honestly, it wasn't even the time loops that scared them - though, okay, those were utterly terrifying for reasons they will never voice aloud - but the fact that nothing could go in or out of the sealed-off town. It's familiar. Not too familiar, but familiar enough that the thought of being trapped like that again is-
... no, best not to think about it. Not now, anyway. Later, when everyone is safe and the Relic is reclaimed, they can pick apart why the whole situation is the last straw ontop of their already long-frayed trust in the Bureau. For now they'll just have to wait, and hope, and try very hard not to laugh at Will losing his shit at trees.
Or. Mostly try. It's not going very well. ]
That would defeat the purpose of us going to all this trouble to begin with, wouldn't it?
[ "Us", they say, like they've been doing any of the heavy lifting at all. ]
Besides, you wouldn't be able to control where it fell. And having a branch crash into someone's house would definitely count as "ruining the holiday spirit."
[ He knows it's displacement. So he shouldn't get mad about the endless rain of dunks from someone who has, essentially, been leaning on a wall and buffing their nails the entire time. This isn't enough to be mad about.
It's enough to be passive-aggressive about though. ]
You're right. Shouldn't be troubling myself. [ Oops- ] Take over or I'm cutting the branch down.
[ @'s them, screencaps them, posts it on twitter, et cetera.
See, and normally, Lion would probably get away with just the first bit of sass, then returning to normal conversations and his monotonous duty of botany. At the same time, there is a pause. Don't be a monster. Wright is a retired name, don't be a monster-
but it's too good
So the sword is lowered, tip on the ground and handle offered to the brat, offered with a smile like knives. ] You can borrow mine.
don't take the bait, don't take the bait, you can't lift it so you'll look like an idiot, don't take the bait- ]
So generous today.
[ 'Generous' is almost certainly not the right word.
But they don't back down, cautiously reaching for the handle of the sword as one would a live, and very angry, snake. They can... probably pull it off? They know how swords work. Surely. It can't be that hard.
To their credit, they don't immediately fall lopsided from holding it incorrectly like they would have a year ago. They've had time to grow out of being a pampered, sheltered thing. But it still looks awkward as hell. ]
Pick a branch. [ Said through gritted teeth. Laugh it up, chuckles. ]
[ There's no laughing. At least audibly. He still hovers, in the way that a dog hovers over the sheep it's supposed to keep from falling off cliffs, but the sword is left in Lion's hands. It doesn't catch fire. It doesn't attack them. If anything, it feels lighter* than it looks.
*The definition of "light" used here varies depending on the observer. ]
Does it matter? Pick whatever you can manage. [ That's merciful of h- ] Maybe a twig to start.
[ And thus the real game emerges. If they pick the suggested twig, that's the same as admitting they can't do it after all, so they'll never live it down. If they pick something sturdier, they'll screw it up, which means they'll never live it down anyway. If they go for broke and pick something ridiculous-
(The hovering is reassuring, as always, but the current feeling of spite overrules it.) ]
Of course it matters. [ To their pride, if nothing else. But holding the sword is one thing. Lifting it with the intent to strike is another. They... just about manage it without falling over. ] I'm not picking a twig!
[ .... yeah they absolutely look like an idiot as they swing, badly, at one of the thicker branches. And they didn't even make a dent. Ffffff- ]
[ At the very least, he doesn't laugh. It's more like the type of throat clearing that comes from someone trying not to devolve into a coughing fit. Or, you know, absolute hysterics.
At least they didn't fall off the tree. Ah, what a year's worth of progress will show. ] Got a lighter one, if it'd help.
[Happy Candlenights! Lion receives: A heavy, warm, and roomy red sweater. In contrast, a monstrosity as well. And finally, a collection of specialty small-batch teas from every place the Reclaimers have visited since the previous year, along with a delicate and genuinely beautiful tea set in Bureau of Balance colors and a red umbrella tea infuser.]
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ACTION
[backdating mcgee]
[ what could go wrong? ]
sometime in week 2 of june, after the sharkening and subsequent Bad Decisions
It's such a shame about the local wildlife. Such a shame indeed.
This is... after that. How long after is hard to say, exactly, as time stopped making sense when they woke up. Which is probably bad? Like how the strange not-quite-hole in their memories is classifiable as 'bad', especially since they don't know what it was, only that it was- important, an anchor keeping a box of glass shards swept safely out of reach. Being alone makes it worse, but finding him didn't-
they couldn't-
and the thought of testing the Oath and hearing nothing but silence was too awful to risk. So the next best thing was just waiting it out, somewhere near enough to people that they'd follow along out of reflexive habit, or at the very least be watched for further signs of Stupidity. If they can just hold on for a little while, they can find him and work out what happened. Right?
Yeah, bad idea in hindsight. They didn't need reminding of that, thanks much, Qrow. And the longer that conversation went on, the worse that feeling got, until the bubbling anger and shame-worry-fear and everything else threatened to become something truly Unfortunate - so they left! Hid like a bad dream and ran all the way home.
This leads to now, where there's a muffled thump against a particular door in a particular part of the royal guard apartments. The kind of thump that comes from someone not seeing a door at all until it very rudely stopped them. ]
mid part 1 wonderland. when? eh, casinos don't have clocks.
Circumstances demand actions. Lion is capable of making up the distance.
A distant strike. Clatter. Chime. Peal of laughter. Erika on the ground, in some little seating area under a tall and fake-looking plant, eyes closed and arms slightly raised while her familiar (its name is Huizi. it has been decided) dances up in the vault of the ceiling.]
...So it's a bit too easy to lose balance while scrying. [She opens her eyes and lets her arms fall, slowly.] Especially if you're trying not to be obvious. The sensation doesn't match up to what you see, and you compensate incorrectly...I think it's even worse when the angle is close, or you can see yourself. Only practice makes it easier.
time is fake. you know what isnt fake? butterflies.
No. Today is not a day for those kinds of worries. Today is for learning. They're resting on the same bench, eyes shut as they ease into the weird not-space of familiar projection. ]
Mm, I've run into the disorientation that brings already. Looked at myself by accident when I tried flying for the first time, and, well...
[ At the moment, their golden butterfly familiar is perched on their head, wings fluttering nervously. ]
I can only imagine that it would feel worse if I was moving around at the same time. Physically, I mean.
fake | not fake
[She comes up from her concentration and turns to Lion, holding her wrist out to the golden familiar for a perch.]
schrodinger's butterfly
[ Which- okay now they've gone and jinxed it, haven't they. And they can't stop and worry about it. Hhhhhhhh. ]
It... would be cool to watch, though.
[ Right on cue, the butterfly shakily takes flight and loops it's way over to Erika's hand. They're still getting the hang of this whole 'independant flight' thing, apparently. ]
no subject
Erika turns and walks off. Ten feet. Twenty feet. Steadily forward, at a normal pace. The thirty-foot limit nears, and she slows just a little. Decision time, Lion.]
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Go ahead.
[ The butterfly settles on her wrist, as Lion braces themself. ]
no subject
[Stepping through and past it.]
audio; later action
[But there is one thing she remembered with crystalline clarity from the moment she regained consciousness: Lion, holding an umbrella, determined to get some answers.]
[It's a few days after the flood of new arrivals, and indeed as soon as she's able, that she sends a message.]
Lion. [Quietly; with the faint hint of a smile in her voice, albeit a tired one.] I believe I owe you some answers. Would you be willing to meet with me?
no subject
I- um, of course, Director-san. [ Despite the surprised stutter, they're aiming for "cautiously polite" but the exhaustion makes it hard to pinpoint. ] Where would you like me to meet you?
[ They have one other place to stop first - namely, sprinting to Will and slapping a Ceremony on him - but that's hopefully quick enough that they don't need to mention it. ]
no subject
Just my office is fine, if you're comfortable with that. I'll get some tea ready.
no subject
[ They're sorely tempted to stop by Bender for two mugs of painkiller peach tea, but it's probably not wise to make her wait longer, given they've already got one side jaunt planned. So the idea is fondly regarded and discarded in short order.
It's not long before there's a polite knock on Lucretia's office door. Even with an explicit invitation they're wary of just wandering inside, so they (and the Umbrella, tucked carefully under one arm) will wait outside until called. ]
Ah, Director-san? It's Lion. I... brought the Umbrella with me, too, in case you wanted to see it.
no subject
Come in. Please, sit.
[There is a very comfortable plush chair on the other side of her desk, which she directs Lion towards, but the statement is also framed less as a request and more as a plea. Once Lion sits, she can also sit, which she very badly needs to do. Ow, the whole body.]
[. . . Also, as Lion passes the threshold, she blinks pensively, as if noticing something about them that she hadn't when they were standing outside. Interesting.]
December 6th I guess???
The narrative could wax poetic on how November was spent, but it doesn't matter here. All that does is that it was a month spent as gophers and December's assignment is in New New Aspen, helping set up the always-extreme Candlemas Or Whatever celebrations. There are no deadly snowstorms or illusionary globes. Even the amount of Shadow Vultures has gone down considerably. Cats are still a menace, but the terror isn't nearly as bad without the distinct memory of it as a chaser. Dare we say it's peaceful.
Or as peaceful as being in a comically-huge fir tree trying to strip off branches is, anyway. From witch hunter to wood hunter. Zweihanders can count as axes with enough force, right? Right. ]
...Can I just cut the whole branch off?
surely nothing could ever go wrong here
againis-... no, best not to think about it. Not now, anyway. Later, when everyone is safe and the Relic is reclaimed, they can pick apart why the whole situation is the last straw ontop of their already long-frayed trust in the Bureau. For now they'll just have to wait, and hope, and try very hard not to laugh at Will losing his shit at trees.
Or. Mostly try. It's not going very well. ]
That would defeat the purpose of us going to all this trouble to begin with, wouldn't it?
[ "Us", they say, like they've been doing any of the heavy lifting at all. ]
Besides, you wouldn't be able to control where it fell. And having a branch crash into someone's house would definitely count as "ruining the holiday spirit."
[ Like last year was any better- ]
no subject
It's enough to be passive-aggressive about though. ]
You're right. Shouldn't be troubling myself. [ Oops- ] Take over or I'm cutting the branch down.
no subject
Ah, yes, let me just start cutting things with the bladed weapon I don't have.
[ They know where this is going. He knows where this is going. They know he knows, and so on. But the routine is reassuring nonetheless.
Besides, he'd be more worried if they weren't being an unholy brat about having to do physical labour, and he knows it. ]
no subject
See, and normally, Lion would probably get away with just the first bit of sass, then returning to normal conversations and his monotonous duty of botany. At the same time, there is a pause. Don't be a monster. Wright is a retired name, don't be a monster-
but it's too good
So the sword is lowered, tip on the ground and handle offered to the brat, offered with a smile like knives. ] You can borrow mine.
no subject
don't take the bait, don't take the bait, you can't lift it so you'll look like an idiot, don't take the bait- ]
So generous today.
[ 'Generous' is almost certainly not the right word.
But they don't back down, cautiously reaching for the handle of the sword as one would a live, and very angry, snake. They can... probably pull it off? They know how swords work. Surely. It can't be that hard.
To their credit, they don't immediately fall lopsided from holding it incorrectly like they would have a year ago. They've had time to grow out of being a pampered, sheltered thing. But it still looks awkward as hell. ]
Pick a branch. [ Said through gritted teeth. Laugh it up, chuckles. ]
no subject
*The definition of "light" used here varies depending on the observer. ]
Does it matter? Pick whatever you can manage. [ That's merciful of h- ] Maybe a twig to start.
[ Nevermind. ]
no subject
(The hovering is reassuring, as always, but the current feeling of spite overrules it.) ]
Of course it matters. [ To their pride, if nothing else. But holding the sword is one thing. Lifting it with the intent to strike is another. They... just about manage it without falling over. ] I'm not picking a twig!
[ .... yeah they absolutely look like an idiot as they swing, badly, at one of the thicker branches. And they didn't even make a dent. Ffffff- ]
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At least they didn't fall off the tree. Ah, what a year's worth of progress will show. ] Got a lighter one, if it'd help.
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25th. actionish?? present dropoff? this may happen later in the literal thread we're doing but here