(no subject)
Illyana's face is still burning up, but she tips her head to the side to hide it with the slide of her braid over one shoulder as she releases Zaza after pulling her with her into Rus rather than let the other woman stop her. "{I'll take you to the locker room. I have a point there,}" she promises in her suddenly comprehensible Russian. Rus today is not Siberian, fortunately for those bikini-clad, but it's a little brisk. If you acclimatize to that, it's rather beautiful today, colors simply saturated everywhere, greens and blue sky and flowers.
It is very fortunate, what with both women coming dressed in more of their own skin than in fabric, although Zaza might not notice if it were. Her response to Illyana's promise is an eloquent, "Uh..." The lack of conversational prowess leaves wide blue eyes free to stare openly in utter bafflement at the highly saturated world around them, toes curling into the dirt. "Okay--" The word lingers a moment, before her gaze sharpens with its cant towards Illyana. "Are you speaking Russian? Also, it is okay. We can go back and I'll just push zhem both in ze pool until zhey stop...if you like."
Illyana looks at her squirt gun in bemusement, and takes a moment to carefully set it against one hip, caught by her bikini string. "{People understand it here. I'm not sure why.} I do not /need/ to." Her English is pretty bad, though, coming as it does at quite an effort. "{If it bothers you.}" She holds out an inviting hand. "{You won't have far to walk to get back from there.}"
"It doesn't bother me," Zaza demurs, her attention is caught by the holstering of the squirt gun and its risque bikini strap hanging. Pin-up style. Something about the image it presents causes her lips to twist up in a subtle smile, perhaps admiring, before her gaze returns to Illyana's face. "If what bothers me?" She eyes that hand, tipping her head to one side with a smile and lifting one shoulder in a half shrug. "{Lead on,}" she says in thick German, before switching back to English just in case. "Lead on. So zhis is your place?"
"{You've been here,}" Illyana says, with a slight rising note of question. She blinks, frowns deeply at the words in another language, lips moving as she tries to remember the sounds and shape them again to jog her memory. Clearly, she thinks she's forgotten some English.
"No, I haven't," Zaza replies, denial clear as she looks across lush trees and bright skies. This is no cinder brunt fever vision. Glancing back to Illyana, she lifts a brow at that deep frown and not quite understanding its meaning. "Alright zhere?"
"I don't know those words," Illyana admits. Now Zaza has reminded her about which Rus she saw, Illyana goes instantly to put her hand on the nearest tree, as if to assure herself that it's real. A breeze dances by them both, acting as no real breeze should, too quick to completely change direction.
"Ah. Sorry, zhat was German so you wouldn't," Zaza offers in return, dipping her chin in a slight nod. She is quiet, simply watching as Illyana goes to lay her hand upon the trunk on the tree. At least, until a sudden dancing breeze prances by them, then it is her turn to frown. Turning, pale eyes follow the path of its dancing, feeling what she cannot see.
Illyana stiffens, and gets out her gun. She growls in exasperation with herself when she sees it, but holds it up threateningly anyway. "What is it?" she asks Zaza. "One of the crows?" She scans the sky. The breeze tugs at Zaza's earlobes, seeming almost disappointed nothing dangles there to play with.
Giggling slightly, Zaza brushes the playful wind away from her ears. No, nothing dangles there but there is a lengthy braid that swings against her back. "No," she says with a smile, "It is just ze wind."
Illyana lowers her gun, eyebrows going up. The wind tugs on Zaza's braid, then ruffles Illyana's hair. She swipes a hand in front of her face as if shooing away an insect. "{The real wind?}" She totally asks it like she expects Zaza to know.
Glancing towards Illyana, Zaza arcs a brow in a rather telling fashion. "Is zhere anything other zhan a real wind?" She doesn't think of hallucinogenic manifestations of wind, those just don't count. That playful wind is given an encouraging nudge away from the blonde while she waves a hand in front of her face.
The wind curls around Zaza's hands like a playful pet. Hello. Will you be my friend? "{Magic,}" Illyana explains. She does another check of their surroundings. "{It might be collecting our words to send to Baba Yaga.}"
Hello. She would very much like to be your friend little wind. Zaza isn't paying all that much attention, not while Illyana does a check of the perimeter. She gently ruffles along the length of the wind, casting out with her powers in a delicate stroke as close to a pet as she can make it. At the words, 'Baby Yaga,' she glances over at Illyana. "It seems to be quite friendly," she offers hesitantly.
"{The better to hear our secrets with.}" Illyana starts walking the perimeter of their little clear space among the trees, looking for something. The wind current shivers all over and then zooms around and around Zaza. Petting! Whee! It pushes at her back. Come this way. This way!
"We shall just not speak secrets zhen," Zaza replies, unable to keep the grin from her lips as the little wind responds exuberantly. "{Goodness.}" She chuckles warmly as it starts pushing at her back. "It ah...wants to go zhis way." She gestures in the direction she is being pushed once she has caught Illyana's attention.
Illyana frowns. Deeply. "{I don't /think/ there's anything that way,}" she says cautiously. She comes to join them, but the wind ruffles up her hair and scoots away again. C'mon, Zaza. Let's hurry and get to the fun before Illyana does! This way!
Oh, Zaza is sorely tempted and glances in the direction that the little wind gusts. She gives it another long fingered stroke down its length, glancing towards Illyana. Pragmatism wins out. "It is your call, although it is an insistent little thing."
Pragmatism isn't /fun/. The tired of the apple, the wind suddenly goes for the stick, gusting Zaza in that direction almost gail force. Illyana starts forward, but then stops to try to grab onto a branch so she doesn't get pull along too.
The sudden gale catches Zaza unawares, stumbling and tripping in the direction she is blow with her braid lifted high in its currents. "Zhat," she grits out between clenched teeth, "Is /not/ nice." Still on scrambling feet as she is forced far along on the wind's desired path before she catches her own breath and pushes back. It is not a graceful press, rounding and /shoving/ it away and turning it back and away from her.
And that--is a pit trap! Under Zaza's feet, there's suddenly no ground, despite the appearance of vegetation that was there just moments before. Illyana leans forward from her grip, but when the wind is driven back, she's driven back with it.
The squawk that breaks the air from Zaza's throat is too sharp and ungainly to be considered a princess-esque scream, but it is that class of noise. It is almost expected of one as the ground drops out from under you, nails scrabbling for any purchase to stop the descent. Fuck.
Well, there's no spikes in the bottom? That's a plus. Otherwise, it's a good long way down, longer than you'd think the walls should stay straight, but they do look very rocky once you get down past the first few feet or so. The vegetation that was over top, perhaps spread out on a lattice of something else, is at the bottom, though, available to break the rest of a fall that handholds can't entirely stop.
Oh, this is not going to be pleasant. Spikes or no spikes, Zaza hides the bottom with the hard crack of bare flesh hitting solid ground, painful even with a downy cover. Ow. Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, she rests at the bottom of the very large hole with hands and skin tingling with pain. Whatever sort of a manicure she had is gone now. While her body slowly unfurls from its position of impact, her senses reach out and look for that little fucking wind.
The wind is busy fucking with Illyana, up at the top. A stream of Russian curses, comprehensible now, gets more frustrated and angry by the minute, as Illyana gets battered off her course to the edge of the hole. "{Are you all right?}" she calls, voice strained with concern.
Reaching out with a sharp /yank/, Zaza tugs that wind away from Illyana and down-down into the hole with her. Come here my pretty. She is not nice about the pull, before forcing it to circle around the base of chasm, leaving her untouched. "I -- think so," she shouts back, voice tight with confusion and a note of pain. Its timbre is high and strained. The words followed with a low Germanic curse as she examines her hands. Man, that /hurt/.
The wind is not all that powerful, when Zaza really bears down on it. It circles faster and faster in direction, then turns and tries the other way. One might almost call it panicked. Illyana, free of interference, peeks over the edge of the hole, clearly on hands and knees for safety. She hisses, judging the distance.
A scowl set into her features, Zaza continues to force it to spiral around her. Not letting it gain height in an attempt to slip from the hole. "{Did you think zhat was /funny/,}" she growls, thick German sharp and angry. It is a very good language to be angry in, sounding positively vicious. Scrubbing her hair back from her eyes, she stands with a careful, wincing slowness and looks up (and up and up) to the mouth of the hole. "Hi."
The wind curls caressingly around Zaza's hips. It's sorry. Very sorry! Illyana leans farther in, judging how far she can reach (not far enough). "{Can you climb any ways?}"
Gaze sharp Zaza assesses the distance and considers the rocky outcrop of the walls. Does it look climbable? Even if doesn't... "I will try," she says tightly, purposely trying not to think of her battered hands. Sucking a sharp breath in through clenched teeth, shoving the winding wind away from her and pressing it back against the oppose wall, she lays her hand against the wall and begins to climb. No escape yet wind. You get to come with her, but no farther.
The wind subsides sullenly, just checking every so often, lest Zaza have forgotten it. There are irregularities in the rock, if you hug it (probably not fun with that much bare skin) at least until rock turns into soil. Illyana lies down on her stomach, to extend her arms that much farther.
That check is met with what can only be described as a sharp swat to the nose. Bad wind. Very bad wind. Teeth gritted, Zaza takes hugging the rock with the same dogged determination that climbing the walls in the first place was greeted with. Tilting her head back when she reaches the end of her grips, she quips wryly, "You know...if zhis doesn't work, you are going to have to leave me and go get rope." Goodness, that is pessimistic. Tightening her grip, she carefully lifts one hand away from the ledge and reaches for Illyana.
"Nyete!" Illyana says, emphatic. "{I'd--}" She hesitates. "{Find someone to stay with you.}" Having that solution worked out makes her relax slightly. She lowers her hands to Zaza's. The wind quiets, then pushes up. Quiet again, then push up again. Maybe it's saying something.
At the wind's continued and sharp pushes, Zaza utters something low and not at all polite in her native Deustch. Shakily she tightens her hold on the wall, glancing towards the space where the wind curls. "/What/." The message is not coming in loud and clear. Her hand groping for Illyana's as sweat from the continued exertion drips form her brow.
The wind waits this time. Its next push comes right when Zaza is groping for Illyana's hand, a few inches between them, however much Illyana scoots forward and strains.
Wind. This is not helpful. In fact the split focus is almost enough to send Zaza crumbling to the floor as it jars her efforts. Hand coming back to the moment, she sucks in a tight breath and hisses, "Fine." The wind is released from her hold. Hopefully it won't knock her off the wall as she tries again, hopelessly to reach for Illyana's fingers. Maybe if she shifts her foot hold...
The wind gives her foot a bump. Zaza's hand touches Illyana's and the other woman grabs hold, tight as she can. The wind makes a break for it, rushing madly to freedom while it clearly hopes Zaza is tied up with soldifying her hold on Illyana.
There isn't even time for an 'ohshit'. Fingers clutch at Illyana as Zaza's feet meet air, nothing left to hold onto for purchase other than the woman above her. The wind can go on its merry way, Zaza has other concerns at the moment.
Illyana grunts and curses herself. She brings her other hand down so they can have two points of contact, and then--what next? "{I'm not sure I'm /quite/ strong enough for this angle...}"
"If you're sure," Zaza hisses somewhat sarcastically. The moment does nothing for her poise. Her feet scrabble for purchase against the wall, trying to find something to hold onto. Swallowing thickly, she says, "Let me go."
Illyana huffs in annoyance and also frustration with herself. She doesn't reply to the sarcasm, and also completely ignores the direction. She starts scooting back. It--sort of works, until her arm pits at the level of the edge and her arms have to start coming up,
Bitch. As Illyana scoots back, Zaza swings her other arm up to reeeeeeach for the edge of the pit in the hopes that her longer arms can get a hold of it.
The edge isn't too crumbly, and Illyana's there to help her clamber the rest of the way, once she gets a grip to pull herself up. They'll both be completely rolled in the dirt once they're done, but it's doable at least.
If anyone asks, they were mud wrestling in their bikinis. Just ignore how battered Zaza looks. Zaza remains on her knees in the dirt -- solid, glorious dirt, her torn fingers pressed against the solid ground, panting with exertion. Blood, dirt and sweat coat her sticky figure. "Thanks," she gasps softly, looking over at Illyana.
Illyana's face is tightly anxious. "{Sorry,}" she says in return. "{Do you want to go to your room instead? I can take you to your floor's hallway.}" Her shoulders are braced, like she expects Zaza to explode.
It is true, the tall brunette looks pained, tightly wound and ready to explode at any moment. Even bruised and battered as she is, it isn't going to be Illyana, at least not tonight. "I'd like to know who ze /fuck/ leaves a hole zhere," Zaza mutters, scrubbing a hand across her cheek and further coating it with dirt and grit. "My floor would be /wonderful/." She stands slowly, wincing as she does with bruises that will probably be just lovely later. "Is it always like zhis?" With the whole, suprise! trying to kill you thing.
"{It could have blow the dirt away itself,}" Illyana says, trying to be dry and factual. She pushes to her feet too. "{Or it was the sorcerer that created the wind spell, or maybe it was a hunter who left it, and the wind found it and decided to play with it.}" She summons a portal, red light starting as a small dot and growing bigger until it's big enough to step through and Illyana offers Zaza her hand.
There is a quiet silence as Illyana explains all of what could have created the great hold in the ground. Then finally, Zaza says, "My god, your place /is really/ like a book of stories. I'd be fascinated if I wasn't so sore." That hand is taken gingerly, wary of the damage that the rock wall has done to her fingers.
"{What, you didn't believe the reports?}" Illyana says, her turn for a tinge of sarcasm. She holds Zaza's hand very gently, and pulls them through into the real world, mundane floor of the residence hall under their feet. The red portal blips out.
"Reports and experience are markedly different," Zaza says with an honest chuckle, finding Illyana's sarcasm amusing rather than offensive. "/Zhis/ was like walking into a Grimm's fairy tale and having a slyph personally come to play a trick on you. I've seen unicorns, but zhis was something else..." It was dangerous. Once the portal blips out, Zaza will offer Illyana another round of thanks and a solemn smile before heading home.
Oops.