(no subject)

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CHARACTERS: Riza and friends! ("""friends""")
DATE: Post-Ghost town log
WARNINGS: Talk of death?? Probably some throwing up too, we’ll see.
SUMMARY: Riza died and that was fun but now she has to talk about it and that’s less fun. A bunch of starters in the comments, give me a holler if you'd like something.

Comments

LANCER

[strictdiscipline]

[Riza only manages to sleep through half the night, pulled awake by nightmares that haven't plagued her in years. The room suddenly seems too small and stuffy, hardly conducive to helping her pounding heartbeat even out, and after a few moments of silent deliberation, she pushes herself upright and swings her legs over the edge of the bed. Getting dressed would surely wake Lucina, sleeping quietly on the floor, but Riza also isn't stupid - it's cold outside, and she's already not feeling well - so she settles for draping a blanket over her shoulders before padding out the room and down the stairs and out behind the saloon where the terrace sits empty and the stars shine brightly in the sky.

She's content to stand there, though her solitude doesn't last long; the prickle at the back of her neck gives warning to company, and the flash of blue at the corner of her eye tells her all she needs to know about who it might be.]

It's late.

[(Early? Who knows.) But her usual clipped tone's wholly absent today, chased out entirely by deep-seated exhaustion and still-present nausea rolling about in her stomach.]

[riastraid]

[ It's really early (or very late), though Lancer practically never sleeps anyway. Especially now with a Master to look over and a comrade recently lost. The fact that she's been brought back doesn't make it any less disturbing, and in the free hours of the night he finds himself back at the saloon, sitting on the rooftop shingles and keeping watch on the empty desert and slumbering town.

The silence makes it easy to spot a certain someone out for a late-night stargazing session. Someone who might not want to be left alone with her thoughts for the rest of the night. He can't help but drift in, materializing perched atop the terrace banister. ]

Couldn't sleep.

[ He jokes, though there isn't the smile to match. ]

If you're up anyway, maybe you could keep me company.

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[The reply's a noncommittal noise, a low hum that might mean either yes or no. But her (bare) feet stay planted firmly in place, and underneath the covers her shoulders settle half an inch. She doesn't trust herself to say much right now, but she does trust him. (Funny how much she's let herself relax in his presence, even after a mere few weeks.)

There's rumbling far in the distance, a sandworm tunneling upwards now that the harsh light of day is gone, but she pays it no mind, content to watch the stars twinkle in the sky as the last clinging nightmares disappear and fade. They'll be back soon enough, of that much she's sure, but for now she's grateful for the reprieve as she buries her face partway into a raised fold of cotton.]

Thank you. For earlier.

[In the moonlight, the clinging aura from Koltira's resurrection spell glows even more ghostly, another reminder of her humanity and her fragility.]

[riastraid]

[ He looks to a spot on her cheek as she's got her eyes fixed on the sky, watching the strange luminescence shift and shimmer along it. It's eerie, too ephemeral for so mortal and so human still, and he stares too long, gaze shifting abruptly to meet hers when she speaks. ]

Don't mention it.

[ He'd barely done anything. Well—besides letting her die, which was kind of a big deal, but nothing to thank him for. Which is why he offers, ]

You need anything? [ Probably a lot of things he couldn't actually provide, but hopefully there's a thing or two there he can help shoulder for a recent flame, and an old friend. ]

KOLTIRA

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[Sleep comes eventually, into the morning and more restful this time. She wakes more naturally this time, content to stay burrowed underneath the sheets until all the sleep is purged from her mind.

The downfall, however, of having a clear head again is that the lack of cotton leaves plenty of space for hurt and anger to coalesce and linger. Despite the advice given to rest and regain her energy, she finds herself restless in her room, unhappy with the unanswered questions still lingering in the air. (Mostly one single unanswered question, but with enough weight to encompass fifty smaller questions.)

She waits for a reasonable hour of the day - mid-morning, when the town's alive and bustling - before reaching out to Koltira.]

We need to talk.

[respired]

[ Koltira's walking in the desert when he gets the call. It's his biggest hobby these days, since it's the one that most easily allows him to avoid everybody else.

Unfortunately, they can still catch him through the jewelry. He frowns at his ring when her text comes through, briefly considering--not for the first time--pulling it off and tossing it into some pond or canyon somewhere. But he's pretty sure that would have long term, negative consequences, so. He refrains.

He supposes it's natural for her to have questions, anyway. ]

Where?

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[How positively generous of him.

The saloon springs immediately to mind, being the most accessible location from her current location (in a room, right in the saloon). But given past events, she suspects he has no desire to be near the townsfolk nor the vast majority of their team.

So.]

There's a grove of trees to the east of town, about a quarter of a mile out. Does that work for you?

JULIUS

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[Her conversation with Lancer is impromptu, and her discussion with Koltira awkward but necessary, so when it comes time to send another message out on her jewelry, she's relieved that it's to someone she knows well and trusts. Discussing her death - and return from it - isn't something she's ready to do en masse, but there are some people who deserve to know sooner rather than later.

It's midday on day three when she calls him up, a little after lunchtime. (Her meal still sits on the small table, unfinished.)]

Do you have a minute? There's something I need to tell you. [After another moment of deliberation, she tacks on a follow-up message.] It'd be best if we met in my room.

[viscontree]

Of course, I'll be over there soon. [His response is swift and on point. It only takes him a few minutes to find her place. They're friends after all.]

Lieutenant, I'm here. What did you need to say? [She could have always spoke over messages. Julius figures that it's probably a private matter better left in person.]

[strictdiscipline]

[The sight that opens the door isn't exactly a pretty one; while it's Riza, in one piece and looking physically much the same as she always has, there's a ghostly glow clinging to her figure, making her seem almost incorporeal.

She manages the smallest of smiles - strained, fading in an instant - before she steps back to let him in.]

I'm sorry to call you on such short notice. I— [She falters for a moment before switching tactics slightly.] Something happened during the ambush outside of Boneyard Junction the other day.

FIONA

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[The scene might be familiar: a woman sitting alone at the bar, hands wrapped around a glass filled with ice and assorted alcohols, head bowed down as she studiously surveys the cracks running through the counter in front of her. (Not really, of course - her mind's miles away.) Except this time, it's not Fiona at the bar but Riza, looking decidedly worse for the wear despite the days that have passed since the ambush.

Her form still glows faint white, ghostly aura flickering in and out of view depending on the light.]

[cachemoney]

[Fiona would love to be the kind of person who would notice the slump in Riza's shoulders first, the heavy way she's leaning on the bar and leaning on the alcohol. But the fact of the matter is, she isn't; the first thing she notices is the way Riza appears to be glowing. And in Fiona's experience, things that glow ought not be trifled with.

Cautiously, she approaches.] Heyyy. Just wondering. Are you aware you look... different.

[strictdiscipline]

[What an astute observation. Riza would love to hand out gold stickers for such a thing, but sadly she's got neither the sticker sheet nor the chipper mood to do such a thing. Her gaze flicks up while the rest of her stays still.

Gold stars might be a no-go, but surely there's a scrap of emotion that isn't distress somewhere...]

It's not a very good look for me, I take it?

NAMI

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[There are worried messages on her Magitek after she stays in her room for the third day running. Lucina takes care of any visitors at the door but there's only so much the other woman can answer to without full details of what had transpired.

Ultimately, guilt surfaces for long enough that she slips out of her room to rap a careful knock-knock against her neighbor's door. She's cleaned up some, hair tied back and her pajamas swapped out for a set of day clothes, but the circles under her eyes still linger and the ethereal post-resurrection sickness still clings to her form, casting her in a ghostly white glow.]

[weatherscience]

[ Lucina has tried her best, to alleviate her worries, to tell her that yes, Riza is there, and no, she's not exactly alright... but she will be, it's okay, don't worry too much. Nami has never been particularly good at leaving something like that be, but if Riza has been hurt like Genji was, she needs rest — and so Nami leaves her be, messages her some warm get-well-soon wishes on the Magitek... and waits.

it's pure luck she happens to be in the room at the time; most of her crew mates are out, Luffy on his way who-knows-where (with Sabo-kun, she supposes), Sanji-kun likely in the kitchens, Sai out investigating. she leaves the book she'd been reading on the desk, makes her way to the door with a hastily called-out Yes, coming! before opening it... to the sight of her friend. ]

— Riza! [ there's shock in her voice as she takes in her appearance, the way the other looks like she would still need a good three days of sleep, the strange glow that makes her pale skin even paler. ]

... are you sure you should be out of bed yet? [ linking her arm with Riza's, Nami ushers her in, moving slowly enough that her friend doesn't have to rush; she doesn't stop until she makes it to the sole bed in the room, though, promptly making sure Riza sits down immediately. ]

There, you sit down! You're pale as a ghost!

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[What an alarmingly accurate turn of phrase (if only Nami knew), enough for a faint wince to cross Riza's face. She's quick to smooth it out into a smile as she follows Nami into the room and towards the bed, hand lifting and sweeping out in a reassuring motion.]

I'm fine, really. I was about to go crazy in that room.

[She's spent more than enough time alone as a child not to fear boredom, but one can only take so many hours of being stuck in a small room without company or good books before wanting to punch open the window in restless energy. Hence, her presence here. There's a point she wants to make eventually, and apologies she needs to make, but those can wait a few minutes as she gauges Nami's mood.]

I hope you've been well lately.

[Apparently, not even death's enough to strip her of her priorities: namely, the well-being of her friends over her own self.]

JASON

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[Eventually she feels well enough to leave her room for an extended period of time. (A good thing too - it's starting to get stuffy in there.) The saloon's alarmingly quiet now that the majority of the workers have packed up and gone, but that suits her needs just fine. She makes her way to the bar and orders a drink; it arrives in record time and she thanks the barkeep before taking her drink and stepping to a nearby table.

A bout of nausea hits then, enough for her grip to loosen and for the mug to tumble down and shatter against the floorboards, sending tea and ceramic flying everywhere.

Sorry about those nice shoes, Jason.]

rises from the dead, finally

[gutpunching]

[You think his shoes are nice, that's the most flattering thing you've ever said about him, Riza's meta.

Anyway. Jason's reflexes are good, but not quite enough to save the poor, innocent crockery from its trip down to the floorboards. He reacts in time to backstep away from the shrapnel and some of the splashback and go looking for the unexpected source. Calling them friends or allies would be pushing it quite a bit—but even keeping it professional, he's had more than enough opportunity to get a measure of her. She'd never been all that clumsy.

His first impulse is to comment (unnecessarily) on her butterfingers, but it doesn't last long. Not once he gets a look at her ghostly airs. More than enough to stop and raise an eyebrow over.

Well. That's interesting. Conversationally, lest she mistake this for actual concern—]

Anyone ever tell you you're positively glowing?

[In the spooky, creepy kind of way, for the record. Not the healthy, vibrant, insert-joke-about-Sieg-thinking-you're-pregnant kind of way.]

congrats rejoining the living, or at least the undead

[strictdiscipline]

[Ah. Of all the people to make a complete fool of herself in front of. Her gaze settles flatly on him, ready for the snide comment she's sure is coming in 3...2....1—aaaand there it is, right on time. Luckily for the both of them, the nausea rolling through the pit of her stomach's enough to dull any of the usual irritation she would have felt over his apparent nonchalance.]

Plenty of times, actually.

[Time for honesty hour, part 3.

Or it would be, if her body would actually behave and listen for once this entire week. But the nausea's latched its claws into her, burrowing deep, and her body's been worn too thin to hold it at bay a fourth time. Her shoulders hunch, her gag reflex springs into motion, and her stomach violently uproots her (admittedly meager) breakfast onto the ground, to join forces with the tea from seconds earlier. Some of it splatters onto Jason's shoes.

Sorry again. For real, this time.]

GRAHAM

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[Halfway through the week, while Lancer and Lucina pull double-duty dog walking, Riza slips out away from the saloon, footfalls taking her away from the busy main street and towards an outcropping of trees at the city limits. Easier to be alone the further away one is from the town. She sits herself down at the base of one tree, head hanging low for a few moments as her eyelids drop closed. No one to question her here, to watch her with curious eyes.

—Except, apparently, a wolf, nudging gently at her thigh. Her eyelids fly open, though she's quick to relax again once she sees who it is, a smile ghosting across her lips as she reaches out one hand to scratch behind his ears.

(But where Brother goes, Graham is surely not far behind…)]

https://media.tenor.co/images/193217d2199669044918aa32c2481762/raw

[dishearten]

( that seems to be the way of it, isn't it? they're a matched set, and one rarely is found without the other. especially now, with the huntsman moving slower than usual. if a heartless human can feel guilt and worry, his wolf manages to feel the same ten fold. he wasn't there when his human was harmed, and worse yet Brother can't seem to convince his foolish family to stay still and rest for the sake of his injury, either.

so he is happy to light on a friendly face, enough that he even runs ahead of the man he's been watching like a nervous babysitter. Brother accepts the scratches but his ears roll up and forward, alert. something is different with his friend, this human that fed him and helped him in the place of sand and sun and tiny deer that walked like humans. Brother can't place quite what but there's uncertainty in his mismatched eyes as he snuffs at Riza's shoulder as if he could scent out the answers.

Graham joins not much long after, though slower than might be expected. He looks a little paler than usual, but the bandages from the shot are well hidden by his shirt. he pauses and takes note of his company, and it's practically amusing how well his quiet concern matches the wolf. ) You've found yourself quite a quiet place, ( he notes, but he can't help but be confused. he's barely seen Riza sitting down. laying still and lost and alone under a bank of trees is quite unusual. )

i'm p sure that gif is me rn

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[A matched pair, Brother and Graham, but in that moment perhaps it's Riza and Graham that have more in common, both still scarred by the events of the ambush but keeping things mostly under wraps. Brother gets one more scratch before she pulls back, lifting her chin up in order to offer Graham a smile of greeting. (It's more strained than usual though, pinched at the edges.]

It was getting a little loud in town.

[She reaches out, one hand gesturing to the empty space next to her.]

You're welcome to take a seat, if you'd like. [Then, more hesitantly:] I wouldn't mind the company.

[It's been a rough few days.]

SIEGLINDE

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[Isengrim, like all canines, holds a deep-seated love for his mistress and grows more and more anxious the longer she forgoes food and sleep in favor of her research.

Decidedly tired of her refusal to leave the room, Isengrim decides to act, even with the injuries sustained from Sieglinde's earlier run-in with Koltira slowing him down. He hops up onto his hind legs and nabs a few sheets of her notes between his jaws before making a beeline for the door, paws reaching up to scrabble at the handle until it (by some miracle) swings open enough for him to dart out in search of the nearest passerby—

—who happens to be Riza, steps stilling in surprise at the sudden appearance of bony canine.

(If Sieglinde's sharp, she'll notice the way Riza's form flickers in the light, almost ethereal.)]

[grunehexe]

[There's a full several seconds before Sieglinde even realizes that Isengrim has taken her notes, just staring sleepily into her empty hand until it registers. It's enough time for her familiar to get out the door, and though she opens her mouth to shout after him...

It takes too much energy. It's all she can do to slump out of her chair, back and neck aching, to toddle unsteadily out of the door after her familiar looking much like a zombie, shuffling in a slightly stained dress, bags under her eyes, long hair oily from neglected washing.]

Isengrim, come back...

[She... doesn't notice Riza at first, half blindly moving after the skull-faced note snatcher.]

oh my god sieglinde

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[Seeing Isengrim in a flurry is alarming enough, but it's the sight of Sieglinde inching behind, so far removed from her usual alert self that really sends a bolt of worry through Riza.]

Sieglinde?

[Her own malaise goes completely forgotten in the midst of this scene, and she immediately sidesteps Isengrim to dart over to Sieglinde, kneeling down in front of the younger girl with worry etched all across her face.]

What happened? Are you alright?

[(Isengrim whuffs once, then whines low in his throat. Not all of his anxiety is over Sieglinde now.)]