undergrounds | you don't have to let it go away

{ A - Closed to Faust }

She's not sure she's ever felt so defeated before. Yes, she's physically hurt more than she has been in a while, but her emotional state is even worse. All she can think of is how her weakness directly led to someone's death, how her lack of experience had cost an innocent boy's life. And as for Akane... well, Maera can't think of her without immediately becoming enraged, so she's trying not to let the Seelie fae cross her mind. Her rage doesn't allow her to think clearly - it makes everything into a haze, makes her more likely to make mistakes and lash out at those who don't deserve it.

Simply put, she's not feeling good. Broken, tired, and more than a little humiliated, she makes her way to Faust's clinic first, not wanting to go home just yet. After all, that would require explaining to her mother the nature of her injuries, and she's definitely not ready to relive the experience. She doesn't think she ever will be. Entering the clinic, she sighs as she sees the several people gathered in the waiting room, but sits down in a chair anyway. To pass the time until she's called for, she takes a clinical stock of her injuries, checking the time every few minutes in anticipation of being treated.

{ B - Closed to Kenzi }

Thank goodness she doesn't get seasick.

After a couple hours of bobbing up and down in the Thames, Maera's anger has worn out. The glass around her shows no sign of the barrage she'd doled out in her rage, and she's come to a sort of acceptance that she's stuck here for the time being. Stuck in a knee-high pool of alcohol that smells terrible enough to make her want to retch. She's been trying to make a list of all the good things about her situation, and despite the list being only one item long, she's already starting to feel calmer.

That is, until the bottle knocks against the riverbank. She groans as she's thrown against the side of the bottle, her already-injured body protesting and the beer sloshing around up to her waist. But after she picks herself up, she realizes that she can see feet traipsing by the river, which must mean that she's close to people. There's hope for her.

"Help me!" she cries out, rocking up onto her tiptoes to see outside the glass as much as she can. After a moment, she slaps her hand over her mouth, realizing the dilemma she's in. She definitely needs help, but she'll get into loads much trouble with the Night Council if a random mortal picks her up.

After one more bump of the bottle agains the side of the river, she's made her decision. After getting to her feet again and (unsuccessfully) trying to squeeze the beer out of her hair, she yells out, "can anyone hear me? I'm in the bottle down here!"

{ C - Open to All }

It's been a terrible month, to say the least. To make up for the time she spent in that accursed bottle, she's taking on a lot more work than usual, and she's hard-pressed to find time in her day for a break. On top of that, her injuries still haven't healed properly, and her pride is even more severely damaged. Put it all together, and Maera is moodier than ever as the month comes to its close.

Oddly enough, when she does get some spare time, she doesn't frequent her usual cafes and bookstores. Instead, she pays visits to Redbright Institute, watching the kids in summer camp run around outdoors during their time for sports. She wanders through clothing stores to look for new fashion for the winter season. She can even be found in Bromley and Bexley, finding secluded places to work on her magic. She's moodier than usual, but will try to put on a nice enough face when running into someone. "--oh. Hi. How are you?"

{ D - Wildcard }

ooc; leave me a prompt and i'll respond!

Threaded | Flat

Thankfully, Maera's turn came fairly quickly -- probably helped along by the fact that the staff were familiar with her. "Maera Perkins," called one of the assistants, a girl with dark hair. Her name was Penny, and because she worked at a rather unusual clinic, she was a witch herself.

"Please come with me." She'd lead Maera to a room past the ordinary exam room, where Faust was waiting with Maera's file.

"Ms. Perkins," he said, looking even more tired than usual. Still, he managed a smile. "Gotten yourself into a spot of trouble?"

"Hmmm?" Cooper looks up from updating his Instagram on his phone at who he thought was speaking to him. He racks his brain for a long moment but he can't place the girl's face. "Sorry, darling. I think you've got me confused with someone else."

He sincerely hopes she's not one of those young hanger-on human types that skulk around the nest. They're good for a bite now and again, but aside from their willingness to be fed upon, they're downright annoying little creatures.

One of the waitresses, Cindy, approaches the table that Maera occupies by herself with Clara 'sitting' on the chair next to the fae. She slides a drink, probably a favourite of Maera's or a popular drink of theirs in the shop, on the table despite the fact this one wasn't ordered.

"My treat," Cindy said with a friendly smile before drifting off to attend to the other customers.

Clara looks at the drink with surprise on her face and is quick to raise her hands just in case. "To let you know now: I didn't influence her to do that or anything like that. She can't hear me but I'm sure she noticed how under the weather you've been."

For a good reason. Clara is worried for Maera. Of course she's worried for her ever since the murder -- What else could they call the poor death but that? -- of poor Ellis some weeks ago. The Redbright school is reeling from it, the staff horrified the boy died such a death and the students wondering, quietly and aloud, if Daybreak could really protect them after that.

The ghost is worried over a lot of things but Maera takes priority at the moment. So she does her best to cheer her up or, at the very least make her comfortable here. "Do you want me to sneak you a muffin? Karl made them."

Kenzi is sitting at a bench on the edge of the Thames nursing a hangover behind a pair of truly oversize sunglasses with a huge coffee. She's somewhere between passing out and complaining about behind alive when she spots the bottle floating down the river and thinks to herself: fucking litterbugs, when she sees a little someone inside the bottle pounding against the glass.

...That is what she's seeing. Right?

"I'm so not drunk enough for this," she complains, as if chastizing whatever hallucination she is seeing. Because tiny people in bottles floating down the Thames is not a thing.

Kenzi stands, coffee still in hand and walks closer to the edge while keeping up with the flow of the river itself.

Yep. That's definitely a tiny person in a bottle.

"Uh...," how exactly is she supposed to rescue her? Kenzi doesn't want to go swimming!

To say that it's been a terrible month for Faolan as well is a bit of an understatement. With the lack of any steady sort of casework -- he tells himself that it's just a slow month, that people must be vacationing, enjoying their last few weeks of official summer before kids go back to school and universities start up again, although he isn't certain how much that's fooling anyone. At least he's got the Guardian gig to fall back on but that's not exactly steady employment either. And considering his only other talent besides his work as a Private Investigator is -- no. He's not going to even think about it.

So there he finds himself, parked on a bench Danson Park since he might as well (he's in the area), an ever-present coffee in his hands, intent on keeping himself to himself -- much the same reason that she's there really. To find some sort of an escape. Unfortunately for the pair of them, they seem to have sought out the same spot. And Faolan for one has no intentions of vacating elsewhere.

"...I'm not in your seat, am I?" he asks, looking up at the newcomer. It's becoming a decidedly familiar greeting, to strangers.

no subject

C

[ D - THE COFFEE SHOP ]

B

C/D! -- let me know if this is alright? :')a