Zoey Westen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
pythianwoman) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fluxscape2021-07-09 12:56 am
pythianwoman) wrote in fluxscape2021-07-09 12:56 am
[OPEN] I've been feeling a bit on edge
Who: Zoey Westen (pythianwoman), and YOU
What: Catch-all; seer’s got her powers back
When: Early July, after the event is over. (And later. I'm flexible. XD)
Where: Pour Judgement
Warning(s): There’s going to be mention/talk of blood/injury, as she’s still VERY MUCH injured from her knife fight with a drunk in an alley after her shift at Pour Judgement on June 27th.
Notes: Feel free to find her anywhere around the bar, wildcard it up and find her somewhere else, or hit me up to plot a different thing!
Zoey knew the moment her powers have returned. She could FEEL it. It was like a piece has suddenly slotted back into place, like she suddenly felt like she fit in her own skin again. Everything felt right again. (She knew exactly what this meant for everyone’s powers, though, and she was already planning on reinforcing the wards on her home. Just in case he learned where she lived.)
Her aerial silks were finally up in her home, too, but she won’t be using them for a long fucking time. Thanks to one asshole’s knife fetish.
She’s really wishing that one of the gifts the fae gave her was quick healing, right now, though. Because this fucking SUCKS. And yeah, she’s a little impatient given that she knows that Scratch has HIS powers back now too, and will probably be gunning for her. With as wounded as she is she is at a distinct disadvantage. (Even if she still has a couple... surprises in store for him if necessary.) But it is what it is. She’ll have to live with it, and face him if she has to, no matter the shape she’s in. It’s not be the first time, and it won’t be the last. She takes to carrying supplies in her satchel so she can change bandages and clean it should she need to.
And there are times she needs to.
She shows up to her shifts at Pour Judgement like nothing happened. Like she’s fine. (Because she is. She’s always fine. Even when she’s not. Especially when she’s not.) She paler than usual, though, for someone who's fine. But she’s... a little wary. Her gift of sight is back, so Scratch can’t ambush her there again (thank fuck), but she makes a point to keep track of everyone who comes in, anyway. And she can’t help but be a little...warier than usual. A little more tense than she usually is.
She carries herself... gingerly. It’s subtle, like a woman who is focusing very hard on something, but sometimes she forgets herself, and it slips through. Or she moves without thinking and an almost-flicker of pain crosses her face, hidden with practiced ease. Every now and then, when she’s out of sight of the bar’s patrons and hopefully her co-workers, she’ll pause, pressing a hand against her side and just... breathe a moment. She's a little less... one hundred percent steady on her feet. A little dizzy far more frequently. Fatigue and weakness haunt her steps. And she hates it. But it's not the first time she's suffered heavy blood loss. It probably won't be the last.
None of it effects her job performance. She doesn't let it. It's hidden just as easily and just as well as everything else. But there are those moments when she slips off to the back, out of sight, away from others. THe little moments in between making drinks and serving that things slip out a little.
It’s not until a glass falls off the bar that the façade breaks to any noticeable degree; she’s instinctively moving to try and catch it before the glass has even fallen, quick and graceful... for a moment, anyway. The motion is too quick, too sharp, and she swallows a choked cry of pain and curls an arm around her midsection, hand pressing against her side.
The glass shatters on the floor.
“Fuck,” she grits out, trying to breathe through the newly renewed agony.
pythianwoman), and YOU What: Catch-all; seer’s got her powers back
When: Early July, after the event is over. (And later. I'm flexible. XD)
Where: Pour Judgement
Warning(s): There’s going to be mention/talk of blood/injury, as she’s still VERY MUCH injured from her knife fight with a drunk in an alley after her shift at Pour Judgement on June 27th.
Notes: Feel free to find her anywhere around the bar, wildcard it up and find her somewhere else, or hit me up to plot a different thing!
Zoey knew the moment her powers have returned. She could FEEL it. It was like a piece has suddenly slotted back into place, like she suddenly felt like she fit in her own skin again. Everything felt right again. (She knew exactly what this meant for everyone’s powers, though, and she was already planning on reinforcing the wards on her home. Just in case he learned where she lived.)
Her aerial silks were finally up in her home, too, but she won’t be using them for a long fucking time. Thanks to one asshole’s knife fetish.
She’s really wishing that one of the gifts the fae gave her was quick healing, right now, though. Because this fucking SUCKS. And yeah, she’s a little impatient given that she knows that Scratch has HIS powers back now too, and will probably be gunning for her. With as wounded as she is she is at a distinct disadvantage. (Even if she still has a couple... surprises in store for him if necessary.) But it is what it is. She’ll have to live with it, and face him if she has to, no matter the shape she’s in. It’s not be the first time, and it won’t be the last. She takes to carrying supplies in her satchel so she can change bandages and clean it should she need to.
And there are times she needs to.
She shows up to her shifts at Pour Judgement like nothing happened. Like she’s fine. (Because she is. She’s always fine. Even when she’s not. Especially when she’s not.) She paler than usual, though, for someone who's fine. But she’s... a little wary. Her gift of sight is back, so Scratch can’t ambush her there again (thank fuck), but she makes a point to keep track of everyone who comes in, anyway. And she can’t help but be a little...warier than usual. A little more tense than she usually is.
She carries herself... gingerly. It’s subtle, like a woman who is focusing very hard on something, but sometimes she forgets herself, and it slips through. Or she moves without thinking and an almost-flicker of pain crosses her face, hidden with practiced ease. Every now and then, when she’s out of sight of the bar’s patrons and hopefully her co-workers, she’ll pause, pressing a hand against her side and just... breathe a moment. She's a little less... one hundred percent steady on her feet. A little dizzy far more frequently. Fatigue and weakness haunt her steps. And she hates it. But it's not the first time she's suffered heavy blood loss. It probably won't be the last.
None of it effects her job performance. She doesn't let it. It's hidden just as easily and just as well as everything else. But there are those moments when she slips off to the back, out of sight, away from others. THe little moments in between making drinks and serving that things slip out a little.
It’s not until a glass falls off the bar that the façade breaks to any noticeable degree; she’s instinctively moving to try and catch it before the glass has even fallen, quick and graceful... for a moment, anyway. The motion is too quick, too sharp, and she swallows a choked cry of pain and curls an arm around her midsection, hand pressing against her side.
The glass shatters on the floor.
“Fuck,” she grits out, trying to breathe through the newly renewed agony.
no subject
It’s strange; it’s so much easier to be open with the powers given to her by the fae than her own. But they’re not a part of her. They’re a part of her NOW, of course, but they’re not etched into her bones, in her blood, the way being a seer is. “There’s a few. No real rhyme or reason to them, unless I’m missing something. But the first...”
And then, between one breath and the next, her hair colour is changing, blonde bleeding from the roots down to the tips, replacing the black. As though she’s always been a blonde. She smirks. “It’s a parlour trick, but I like it. Any colour, any style. It’s all possible.”
no subject
He opts to set the glass down for now.
"Incredible. Incredible! With only a thought?"
no subject
“With only a thought.” Black bleeds from the roots, replacing the blonde and returning her to her natural hair colour.
no subject
Oh, Darling. You don't know the half of it.
no subject
The hair thing isn’t the only thing she left the Fae realm with, though. “The second is... straight out of a comic book, pretty much.” She generates what looks like fireworks in her hand, twirling them through her fingers. They’re smaller than what she can, and usually does, generate. But they’re enough for what she needs. Enough to show him. She lets them absorb back into her body, before she’s generating them again. “I’ve never had an offensive power before. It... took some getting used to.”
And she still doesn’t immediately resort to it, no matter that it’s a part of her now, and comes as easy as breathing.
no subject
When the tiny fireworks start blinking into existence above her hand, however, he openly gawks, mouth hanging open for a moment or two before it forms a delighted grin. "Oh, that's - are they combustive? How large can they get?"
Oh he is LOVING this. He looks like a kid in a candy store.
no subject
The miniature fireworks are still twirling and dancing through her fingers with the same grace as she does most things. “It’s more than just fireworks, though. Plasma, sparks, an innate knack for explosions…” she pauses and shrugs lopsidedly. “And I might be mildly immune to explosions. At least ones I cause. It still hurts like hell… but I come out the other side whole.”
She kind of hasn’t tested the other. (And finding out she was immune to her own explosions had been An Accident, when she was first getting used to her new powers.)
no subject
"Well, let's hope you don't land in any accidental large scale explosions to find out," he chuckles. "Though we could probably find small, safer ways to test it. Firecrackers, maybe. Tiny ones first."
no subject
She laughs. “Yeah, I’d rather not. Accidentally almost blowing myself up when I was first getting used to this power was... more than enough.” She takes another sip of her drink. “But it would be good to know. Just in case. You never know what’s going to happen.” And if she could use that to protect people... Better for her to know how it works. THAT it works.