trans_9 | That doesn't look very hygenic. [OPEN]

Entry tags:

That doesn't look very hygenic. [OPEN]

Roxie has claimed a small niche by a window to spread out a wide array of things from the pockets of her denim jacket--candies, staple remover, scroll case, pencils, small stuffed animals, empty glass soda bottle, strips of tinfoil, binoculars, pocket change from a dozen countries... There's enough stuff to fill a good-sized suitcase, collections of household and office and street detritus differentiated from random junk only by the obvious care given to the items involved.

And between and connecting them, and circling herself, are red lines drawn on the floor with what looks suspiciously like slowly-drying blood. The jean jacket she usually wears is loose, with one of the oversized arms tied around one of her arms as a makeshift tourniquet--despite it, the long, deep-looking cut along that palm is still dripping. Beside her, in one of the drawn circles, lies a butcher's knife encrusted with dried blood. There's a certain sense of historical occultism to the blood-drawn designs: one might recognize things almost but not quite like thaumaturgical symbols, or Sumer-era glyphs, or even a few distorted pop-cult commercial brand symbols.

Feel free to come say hello and ask what she's doing, or perhaps panic a little that she's bled herself enough to make most people her (small even for her age) size start going into shock. Your choice, really.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Katara had decided it might be a good idea to go looking for Zuko rather than staying put and hoping he;'d come to her. It had only been a feew days here, and Katara was making the tranhsition as best as she could: which was to say she was playing by ear. She hadn't liked the sleeping arrangements much, with its lack of space, but at least she could practice her bending and meditate in the Sensoriums. The city would have to be a place she visited later: she and Luna had found it by accident while looking for the media room, another place Katara was anxious to visit.

She spotted the small girl by a window, and a moment later, she walked over. She had been a quiet girl, not willing to say much, which made Katara wonder what exactly was going on in her head. She did notice all of the odds and ends though.

"Hey Roxie! Neat stuff! I was just on my w..." Katara paused when she saw the blood, and then the markings. "Oh my gosh! What are you doing?"

"I'm reimbuing some of my things," Roxie says, leaning to carefully trace in a few more designs with her bloody hand. There's something limp and puppet-like about the movements of that arm—probably because of the tourniquet cutting off the blood flow.

She glances up at Katara and then back down at the glyphs. "Make sure not to step on anything."

"Re-imbuing?" Katara had never heard that word before, and certainly didn't see what it had to cutting yourself so you were bleeding. Was this another one of those differences that Katara would have to learn about? She started to look at the girl's arm, and was becoming more than a little bothered by how slow her movements were.

Katara shook her head. "No, I won't do that. Um, your arm looks a little stiff. Do you mind if I help?"

"All of these things have specific functions," Roxie says matter-of-factly. "I'm putting more energy into them in case this place has disrupted the magic's equilibrium at all." None of the stuff really looks magic... some of it is almost suspiciously mundane, even. "It's probably best if you don't touch anything. This can build up a big charge and I don't want it to backfire."

She reaches to dab a few extra lines here and there, then straightens up and twists slowly about to overlook her work so far.

"Oh," Katara said, still flustered by the bloodletting. No magic she'd ever seen needed the use of blood, that seemed so...primal. It was certainly not something that Katara was used to, let alone a girl only a few years younger than her attempting to do. Still, it was smart to think that Stacy might interfere with something like that. She wasn't one for elaborate magic workings, or so she'd been told.

"I meant for your arm," Katara said. "I don't know anything about how magic works in your world, but its generally not a good idea to have an appendage looking like yours. I mean, if you can heal yourself, fine. But if you can't, I'd at least like to make sure your arm is useful to you later."

Which was Katara's own way of pushing back her usual meddling mother self.

"It'll take another few minutes for it to start healing, but I'll be fine after that," Roxie says, slowly edging herself around in a circle as she finishes checking on the designs. "I've done this a few times without any serious effects so far."

She glances over at Katara, and for a moment there's a flicker of thankfulness in her expression at the older girl's worry. Then she's back to her usual cool expression.

So. she could heal. That was comforting. Katara didn't like the idea that doing something like this would possible have to deal with the girl being injured for a few days. It was good to at least know she had a way to regenerate. "Glad to know."

Still, she watched the girl,wantring to see what exactlt it was she was trying to accomplish and what role blood would play.

Roxie pauses, looking fairly sure that she's finally gotten all of the glyphs in place properly. She plucks a film canister from one pile with her not-bloody hand, carefully spooling out a little of the overdeveloped camera film and tearing it off with her teeth, setting the square in the middle of one of the bloody diagrams. Setting the canister down, she takes a disposable lighter and flicks the flame on. She carefully touches it to the torn piece of film and—

FWOOF

The sudden burst of flame—engulfing the entire set of blood diagrams and even tracing up Roxie's bloody arm—flares up and is gone so quickly as to be almost explosive. There's the faint stench of burnt hair, now, and a low haze of smoke, but there doesn't seem to be as much as a speck of blood anywhere, as though somebody had scrubbed down the floor with industrial cleaners. The piles of things Roxie had set out are untouched.

Her arm with the tourniquet, though... the plantsuit is unhurt, but her whole hand is visibly charred all the way up into the sleeve, and she bites her lip, choking back tears and trying to regain her composure despite the considerable pain she must be in. The skin is peeling visibly, going through some considerably accelerated healing process, but the hand is still basically useless for the moment.

Katara did watch on, amazed at how meticulous Roxie was with her ritual. Katara wished she knew what was going on, and why Roxie was doing this in the first place. Still, she did promise not to get involved, so she simply sat back, watching with interest when Roxie produced a lighter, and was more than shocked to see it produce FIRE.

That was something that she was not used to, and she had to take a deep breath...and exhaled sharply when she saw how quickly the fire came. It was all too familiar: never mind the nightmares of the Fire Nation coming to the Southern Water tribe the night her mom died. The fire made her think of when Aang first recklessly toyed with firebending and accidentally burned her.

And once she saw the wince and there was little Katara had to think about. She pulled her arm back and the water she'd stored came loose in a whip, then around the hand, cooling and healing at the same time. It had been like a reflex to her, and Katara had done it so quick she hadn't noticed the tears from her eyes as she'd moved.

"Sorry," Katara said softly. "It's a habit. Fire."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject