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)
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good lord zel get a job )
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 ( ... )
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Regardless, Terra waited, and patently did not fall over or swoon the moment he left her.
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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.
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Terra managed a smile when their hands came back together, moving in easy step with him as they departed.
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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...
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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.
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"Huh?" He looked up, blinking.
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"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.
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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?"
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"This way," he said, taking the direction to the MAC. Maybe there'd be something along the way.
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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.
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