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]

"Tell me about it," she says, a touch more sympathy in her voice. At least she wasn't the only one down in the dumps. "August was terrible. September had better not be half as bad."

Maera looks back at him when he asks his question, her own lips quirking up slightly. "Kind of... completely the opposite of what you're saying, actually." But he gets credit for actually making her smile a little. "I'm trying to make this feel like home. It's a little difficult, to say the least."

[reticence]

"Trying to make this feel like home," he says, looking around them at the park and raising his eyebrows slightly. "How literal are you meaning, here?" he asks, turning back to her with the same, eyebrows-raised expression. "London? Bexley? Or...?" He raises a hand and gestures to the greenery just beyond them.

It's obvious that he's not from around there himself. His accent is Irish through and through, nothing like the local flavor, despite having spent near a decade in the area now. He knows what it's like to uproot yourself somewhere new, to have to try and make it feel like your home even when it isn't. He's not sure whether that's what she's getting at, though. He'll just have to find out, he supposes.