you don't have to let it go away

[goroesi]

{ 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!

Comments

[goroesi]

"But- if she's dead, she should stay dead. You shouldn't mess around with things like that," Maera warns, her eyebrows knotted together.

[necromancynow]

"Stay dead," repeated Faust. "My wife should stay dead."

The words were an echo of what his relatives had told him. His colleagues. Those traitorous Daybreak witches -- those serene incompetents with their condescending smiles and platitudes about how much better he'd feel once he'd accepted that when you took a bullet to the brain, the only real thing to do was dump you in a box and toss some dirt on top of you and let the worms have you even if you were beautiful and sweet and kind and hurt no one on God's green Earth.

"And what would you know about it? My beautiful Eliza should stay dead? Why should she lie in the cold, while all the world's refuse can stroll about in the sunlight? But you can afford to mouth those platitudes, you

ignorant swine.

What do you know of loss? What do you know of dying?"

Somehow he'd gone from 0 to 60 in approximately no time flat, and was now out-and-out raving. Eerie, pale green light suffused the room, summoned up from the pentagram etched onto the floor.

"But I'll teach you to keep that foul mouth of yours shut. I'll fix your little red wagon."

[goroesi]

Maera's already jumped off the examination table at this point, hands raising as if she even has the slightest glimmer of strength left in her to protect herself from anything he might try to do. "Look, I'm- I'm sorry you're angry!" she says first, looking around herself in surprise at the change of lighting in the room. "Please don't get mad. I just- don't agree with you."

[necromancynow]

The words seemed to calm Faust; he relaxed slightly, voice lowering a notch or two in volume. "Is that so? You're sorry?"

Was the storm averted? Was everything... okay?

Suddenly, brilliant light filled the room,; when it cleared, Faust was holding one (1) bottle of Château Latour, filled not with wine but with a half-fairy. He burst from the door of the examination room, leaving his assistant to stare at his wake as he left from the back door of the clinic.

[goroesi]

It takes her a moment to realize exactly what's happened. She stares down at the floor - which is now glass, and filled up to her knees in foul-smelling alcohol - before everything clicks together.

The scream she lets out isn't polite. It's long, and loud, and if he looks down at the bottle, he'll see that she isn't keeping up her usual human appearance, that she's starting to look more feral and wild. This is Maera angry. This is her trying to break through the bottle with what little strength she has left.

[necromancynow]

TOO LATE (and way too far gone, in Faust's case). He may have noted the change in her appearance, but let it never be said that he didn't have follow-through.

The clinic was close to the Thames, and what better place for a nasty, screaming bottle of fae than the river? It was almost poetic in a way, like casting a message out to sea in hopes of an answer. Maybe it would flow west -- all the way west, to the North Sea! Maybe he'd get an answer in the form of another screaming bottle!

With a cry of his own, half-scream, half-roar, he heaved the bottle into the river (not without getting some stares).