YAY VIOLENCE WITHOUT CONSEQUENCES [OPEN]

[inthirds]

WHO: Zelgadis and others just get in here ok
WHERE: A vacant lot all groomed and abused for sword&sorcery practice
WHEN: Next week...pick a day
WARNINGS: Idk yet
SUMMARY: Magic and swords and spars and spectators and whatever else happens happens ok? ok
FORMAT: No (whatever you want)

Comments

[speedofnaked]

But as nice as that flustered look on him was, they still had some burns to deal with. Rather, she had burns to deal with; it was hard to tell if his skin could burn. Terra was pretty sure she could already feel her skin blistering over in patches. Leaning back and lifting both her hands to her chest, the build for this spell was much quicker than the others; there was barely time for an inhale before she murmured the name.

With "Cure three," a glittering barrage of white stars burst to life like fireworks, if the sound of explosions were replaced by chimes. Every scrape was sealed up, every bruise blotted out, blisters undone; in the few seconds it took for the spell to run its course, Terra had visibly gone from beaten and bloody battlefield escapee to looking like she'd just rolled out of bed. The same could have been said for him, if he ever wore his damage as superficially as she, but the spell burrowed beneath the skin as well. Even muscle aches were taken care of

[speedofnaked]

The probability that anyone was going to steal something from an area this visibly torn up seemed low to Terra. Did normal people even come around these parts anymore? With all the earth-shaking and occasional fires, it seemed unlikely. Of course, normal people in this City confused her like no other, and the real likelihood -- that some punks probably set up cameras to film various spar matches for pay-per-view web shows -- didn't cross her mind.

Regardless, Terra waited, and patently did not fall over or swoon the moment he left her.

[inthirds]

Good thing he had gotten the cape off when he did; it was singed, but fared a lot better than the shirt he had just realized was a tattered, sleeveless-on-one-side mess. He grimaced as he worked, gathering the notes in their satchel, the longsword and its over-the-shoulder belt...And rose, feeling awkward and self-conscious. What a mess...No chance of walking into any upstanding (or even kind-of standing) restaurant the way he was looking...they had signs about that kind of thing.

He'd think about that on the way, he supposed.

He was already wasting time, so he hastened back over to her, pace distinctly dropping and manner softening when he got hold of her hand. Harried or not, he still had sense to slow down, be careful. Terra wasn't weak, but he was still the miserable owner of unyielding rock skin.

[speedofnaked]

And this, of course, was why Terra tended to burn out-of-the-way spots of fabric before she bought clothing in this world; despite the delicate-looking scarves wrapped around her hips, not one looked as though it had been burnt or even singed.

Terra managed a smile when their hands came back together, moving in easy step with him as they departed.

[inthirds]

The lot was left with little regard, poor and abused though it was. But that was normal. Normal enough for their lives, at least. Zelgadis had grown comfortable with Terra's presence, for certain, but was not as apparent out in public. He was a good deal more self-conscious then, looking the mess he did, and his stubbornness in spite of it to keep his head up hardly lasted.

It was nice, though, that most (if not all) the street vendors had gotten used to the oddities, and though understandably wary given recent events, asked for nothing but cash. Zelgadis mutely shifted the coins and wrinkled notes he'd fished up out of a pocket, taking more than the average time to recall which was worth what before handing it over. Terra was welcome to whatever she wanted, of course; he wasn't speaking up for anyone (or at all, save a grunt or two). He took nothing for himself, still a little leery after that bout of poison...

[speedofnaked]

Terra seemed to have no problem doing the talking and ordering when they arrived, though her occasional glances his way for further cues went ignored. Well, she knew his tastes and appetite well enough, and with barely a pause tripled the amount of food ordered. On that scale it sounded extravagant, but Terra was a light eater on most days.

They had a couple minutes to wait in the warm sun, the sound and scent of vegetables in hot oil and searing meat, though Terra's attention had not strayed from her companion. "Zel?" she called, a little concerned. He was usually a little more withdrawn in public, but not to this degree.

[inthirds]

By then the excess money had been pocketed and he had gone to fidgeting with his cape, snapping it into place after shouldering his sword and satchel. If he wrapped and angled it just so, it was hard to see his stony arm too much...

"Huh?" He looked up, blinking.

[speedofnaked]

Terra's mouth pulled into her cheek, hesitant in her concern. "Are you okay?"

[inthirds]

Huh-?

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," he replied, glancing elsewhere and giving the laces of his hood a final tug before untangling his fingers free of them. The sleeveless arm began to creep into the folds of the cape, hand twisting to catch an end and keep it that way.

[speedofnaked]

There was a holler from the food truck, and Terra diverted her attention from Zel for the short few seconds it took to retrieve the high-stacked tower of squeaky clam shells, a pile of napkins and two forks weighing them down at the peak. Terra balanced them on one arm, cradling it partially against her hip and chest, but gave her companion a curious, uncertain look.

For 'fine,' his behavior sure didn't match it.

They were in another parking lot, with several other vendors, but tables limited and space more so; it would be better to head off somewhere else to sit and eat. With them, there was no end to the places they could claim; few, after all, could reach rooftops as easily as they.

Her free hand tugged on the cape he was trying to disappear into. "Where to?"

[inthirds]

Zelgadis himself looked uncertain, fingers curling and uncurling around the strap of his satchel. He should...probably carry some of that. It would be fair. Proper, that was. His fingers drummed against the worn material uneasily at the thought, but all was forgotten and distracted by the tug. He blinked, registered the question, then glanced over his shoulders. It wasn't exactly a hop, skip, and a jump back to the MAC, and he hardly mulled this section of town; it was always a bee line to the lot and little else. Um...

"This way," he said, taking the direction to the MAC. Maybe there'd be something along the way.

[speedofnaked]

And so she followed without protest.

It wasn't the nicest part of town, as could easily be told by the fact it even tolerated the destruction of that vacant lot (and how no one ever filed noise complaints was a mystery fit for prime time television), which meant a distinct lack of parks -- and subsequent park tables and benches. A number of shops of the middling large variety: hardware, furniture, and others of the home-construction bent.

At least it meant the sidewalks weren't too crowded.