exsiliumlogs | You're all my friends

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You're all my friends

Date & Time: Before groundhogging it or after depending on preference
Location: Exsilium proper/ wilderness/ various
Characters: Chloe Frazer and you as a fond farewell
Summary: a year and a half of thievery and trouble hits its last few notes
Warnings: VIOLENCE some of it

A: E x s i l i u m

She's back to normal now. Residual lacquer stuck to her nails, hair still neatly trimmed at the edges and her trousers aren't the dirt-stained mess left behind of a little over a year's worth of close calls and fire fights, but she is herself again, and whatever magic that Facilier had carefully stuck in under her skin with a few nice words and a friendly gesture have-- for the most part-- been shaken off. Which is to say it's almost dysphoric having to readjust after being recalibrated so completely that even her old routines and habits feel unfamiliar: walking to the market to trade off another batch of heavy (only slightly roughed-up) furs is something more akin to watching video of the ground shifting forward, of footsteps in the snow and crowds filtering off out of focus.

Doesn't feel like there's weight in her arms or the sting of bitter cold on her cheeks.

Doesn't even feel like she's capable of recognizing any of the familiar faces she passes-- and she does pass them: without a second thought or even the uncertain shift of her attention that comes from purposefully dodging someone close.

How bloody rude. Particularly when she's not careful enough to keep from clipping the occasional passerby.

B: E x s i l i u m w i l d s

This, though. This is where she flourishes. These days, anyway. After too much time spent snagged on emotions and vital decisions, solitude and silent snowfall are more comforting than things like central heating or idle banter. Simple tasks are easy to fixate on (pull wire, wrap twig, bend branch, insert bait and wait), numbing pinpricks running just under layers of insulated clothing precede pain from too many hours of it spent out in the cold. Veins going tight in an effort to cling to any remaining heat. Unappealing, unattractive, inhospitable work.

And Chloe's smiling to herself through the chilled cracks of her frost-split lip as she goes about it.

Not that most people would feel right at home in a yeti-infested wilderness.

C: Wildcard

OOC: pick a different scenario or location, whichever suits you best, and we'll make it happen!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

If the scolding look is supposed to do anything, Tempest either ignores it or it has no effect on her. Really, all it does is make her grin widely, the sort of shit-eating grin that's just asking for trouble.

"Hello, darling." She calls down to her. She'd try for innocence, but it never really works for her.

"Hello yourself." Not like the look lasts, anyway. Chloe moves to dust off a fresh coat of powder, doing her best to hide the half-smile kept just beneath a few wayward locks of dark hair. "What on earth are you up to out here aside from starting snowball fights with whoever happens to walk by?"

"I only start snowball fights with people I like." Which is true. It would be awkward to start one with someone she didn't know. "But I was hunting before that."

She holds up the mess of a trap she was working on before she was distracted.

"I'm flattered." Also true. Though it doesn't really have time to sink in before she's making a face at the mangled trap. "Oh. It's...well, good job."

"You needn't lie. It is horrible." She drops it, and shifts so that she can start climbing down the tree.

"No, no I--" All right, fine, you got her. Not that it was a particularly flawless performance. "Look, I was already setting up a few of my own nearby. Wouldn't be against having a little help if you're up for it."

Chloe's expression was what really gave it away. Tempest jumps down as soon as she's low enough and dusts off her pants, then shrugs a shoulder. "I would not mind helping."

"Lovely." Gives her the chance to offload a few supplies as well when Chloe goes to toss a spare pack Tempest's way: heavy weight of spun wire and bundled wood. From there, she trudges ahead in her initial direction, collar pulled high. "What sort of traps are you familiar with?"

Because from what she saw, there's not much to hazard a guess on.

Tempest catches it easily, though she gives the supplies in question a strange look. Wood, she understood - that was used in everything. But this strange . . . what was it, string? What would something so tough-looking be used for?

"Small ones, meant for rabbits and other small game." She answers after a moment.

"Perfect. Won't have to bother fetching new supplies, then." It's not meant to be a double-take when she glances back over her shoulder at Tempest, but the expression she's wearing piques Chloe's curiosity. "Something wrong?"

She purses her lips, then holds up the wire with a face. "I do not know what this is. Is it your replacement for string?"

Chloe's brows lift in response: "Yeah, actually. Sort of. It's metal wire: stronger, less prone to snap or fray and better resistant when it comes to the nastier ice storms."

"I had no idea that string could be made out of metal." She sounds amazed, and the expression on her face only matches that as she looks down at the wire again.

Which prompts yet another genuine smile over the curve of her shoulder. "Well you can have some if you like, once we're done. It's pretty cheap though in places like this with limited natural resources much harder to come by than what I'm usually used to."

"Perhaps enough for a trap, if you do not mind." Is she going to use it for a trap? Probably not. Will she play with it like a little kid with a new toy? Most likely.

Chloe wouldn't blame her for a second. After all, she's been known to do her fair share of play.

"Whatever we've got left over is yours, then." It's offhanded in the way she says it, as if she's not attempting to be kind-- just sensible. Reasonable, even.

"You any good at tracking?"

Reasonable or not, Tempest isn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"I am much better at that than I am at making traps." She says with a small grin.

"Glad to hear it. Do us both a favor and scout out some rabbit tracks on the stiffer snow so we can get a rough idea of where they tend to run their routes." Because Christ knows Chloe's not any good at it and taking stabs in the dark is less likely to get them a solid meal than anything else.

"Haven't heard from you in a while - been all right?" Conversational, sure, but when you're out a month sometimes catching up means small talk is worth more.

Tempest could cheat at this part, but rather than doing that, she just nods and starts looking around, looking for the usual signs. It isn't often she ends up running into someone she wants to talk to out here anyway.

"More or less. I cannot say I've done anything noteworthy, though. What about you?"

"Nah." Nothing noteworthy. Nothing at all aside from a slow, eerie slide backwards cut short via the broken cord of one enchanted necklace. Subjects she'd rather not touch on. "Hard to know what to even do stuck in a place like this. Barely above stagnant."

"Our little field trip to that city stirred things up a bit." She says, with all the sarcasm she can muster.

Stirred things up by making her wear a dress, which she won't mention.

"Yeah, well unfortunately my memory of all that's a bit fuzzy." And not even a proper hangover to show for it, either.

"You didn't miss much." No sarcasm there. She did a lot of nothing, and not enough drinking. She should've brought more than she did back with her to make up for it.

"What, you didn't gamble?" Come on, Tempest, that's like Vegas 101.

"No? I am not the gambling sort." You don't gamble when you have terrible luck, after all.

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