fluxscape | [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.

Threaded | Flat

"Zoey?"

The voice is almost too familiar at first blush to be heard in the bar like this - but it's much too gentle to be Scratch, and a quick glance up makes it entirely clear the speaker means no harm. Casper Darling is standing there at the bar, watching the younger woman with concern in his eyes and a friendly smile on his lips. He's at a bar, so he has elected to dress down; his labcoat is at home, and he's just wearing his sweater vest and bow tie. Yes. Casual.

"Are you all right? You look...you look a little off, if you don't mind my saying so."

She puts up an excellent front, of course. If it weren't for the fact that Darling was trained to watch for signs of infection/anomaly/illness (oh, stop that), he might miss it.

But he doesn't, and he keeps his voice down as he questions her.

"Hey, what's--" he started when she flinched. "Are you okay?"

Something didn't seem right but Shadow couldn't put his finger on it. The night was busier than it had been for a while, powers seemingly returning to people. He'd gone through a similar pain to the glitching before arriving in Haven and didn't allow himself to be overly bothered by it yet the same couldn't be said for everyone.

His gaze drifted from Zoey to security, wondering if their ninja security got reckless with one of his throwing knives. Shadow didn't like sharp objects flying even if the man seemed in control of where they landed. Accidents could happen and maybe it had to his co-bartender.

Pour Judgement

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