OPEN | i can do it on my own

[knitpick]

Who: rose lalonde (knitpick) & OPEN
What: teenage god works too hard and fails at basic self-care
When: early september
Where: the institute and around olympia
Warning(s): N/A, i'll edit if anything comes up



[She'd began her studies of native magic with protective spells, her curiosity piqued by Evras' mention of it. But she'd soon hit a wall in her quest. Either due to her own inexperience with this manner of magic, or because it was so far removed from the sort she's used to, she found herself struggling to produce anything truly useful. The barrier spells she attempted would form only briefly and with great effort before falling apart, and she couldn't figure out how to stabilize them in any efficient manner.

The idea eventually came to her of perhaps setting the magic into an external source in hopes that it might prove more lasting. A workaround, maybe, but still appealing to her more romantic side.. It called to mind old favorite stories of great wizards with staves imbued with power, magic amulets and enchanted cloaks and all that nonsense. A great deal of research and experimentation and sleepless nights in the Institute lead to a technique that could theoretically work, if only she could get the magic to stay put; it seemed to slip off the objects she attempted to enchant like water off a duck's back. Finally came the idea to work it into the very object itself, tying the magic into an item's very components before they were put together to cement it in place.

So of course, knitting became the subject of her first prototypes. Knitted goods lacked the elegance and drama of enchanted swords and magic staves, but they were something she was actually capable of making herself without learning a whole new craft, and it was easy to conceptualize weaving magic in with the yarn.]

i. THE INSTITUTE

[Rose's office in the Simwe Institute isn't very large or glamorous, but it's a place to work. And work she sure as hell does. Too much, maybe. Jade would probably be upset with her, but how can she resist the call of progress? She can't. It's easy to forget things like meals and sleep and the passage of time when she has a project to focus on.

At any point of the day, whether middle of the afternoon or late evening, anyone in the Institute might pass an office door left open to let a bit of air in, a few papers densely filled with purple handwriting trailing out into the hall. Inside, a blonde teenage girl is passed right the fuck out on her desk, inelegantly sprawled and hands still loosely holding onto a bundle of yarn and knitting needles like she'd fallen asleep in the middle of whatever she was working on. Judging by the position of her elbow and the papers scattered across the edge of the desk and the floor, she probably knocked a whole stack over in her sleep. Whoops.]

ii. OUT AND ABOUT

[Eventually, Rose does make herself get out of her office for a bit. She brings her work with her in a little knitted satchel she'd thrown together for practice, of course, but it's mostly just for a break. She could use some fresh air and a walk. Jade would worry if she didn't take a break occasionally, so she's just being a thoughtful friend.

Also, she maybe needs to pick up more yarn. Maybe. Shh.

Regardless, she is out for a walk in the city during actual daytime like a properly functioning human being. Well, not quite a "walk", because she's flying. It's easier to navigate the sprawling city from higher up, and she avoids the crowds entirely, so why not? She moves at a leisurely float, occasionally dropping neatly to the ground to examine some storefront or duck inside a shop. Anyone traveling the streets of the markets like a normal person might find a girl in a bright orange hooded tunic suddenly floating down from above, nonchalantly landing down nearby to peer in a shop window.]

iii. EATING PROPERLY IS FOR CHUMPS

[And eventually, her stomach does remind her of the need to eat something. Right. That's a thing she hasn't done since like...yesterday. Whoops.

So she finds a little cafe and purchases herself a coffee and sandwich before settling down at a table outside. It's a nice day, after all.

But soon enough, her knitting is back out. Her sandwich is forgotten with only a few bites taken out of it, and her violet eyes intently focused on her work. The technique she's come up with for enchanting is still a new and shaky thing, and it takes a great deal of concentration to work the magic as she needs to. It doesn't look like anything special to a passerby, but each stitch is as tangled with the spell as it is with the rest of the yarn.

So focused on the magic aspect of the craft, Rose belatedly realizes she's lost track of her pattern. She frowns at her knitting for a moment.]

Fuck.

[A sigh, and she pauses in her magic-weaving to spread the fabric of her knitting out, examining the stitches to remind herself of the pattern and find her place in it. There, the second purl in the ribbing...

It doesn't really matter. From her experimenting so far, the quality of the enchanted item doesn't seem to affect the spell itself. But hell if she's going to let one craft slip for the sake of another.]

iv. WILDCARD?

((OOC: Hit me with some other prompt if you'd prefer, or pester me via PM, on plurk @ tinybro or on discord @ orbynit#4811 if you wanna work something else out!))

Comments

iii

[ayes]

[You, meanwhile, is just exploring, trying to get the lay of the land. The bright orange hoodie catches her eye first-- it's a very bold color-- and then she realizes that the girl is knitting. She keeps an eye on Rose as she moves through the crowd just out of curiosity, moving right past her as she swears. You moves to the side so that she's out of the flow of traffic, just enough to offer a sympathetic word.] See, that's why I never really took up knitting... you'd do all the work and then realize that you messed up like ten minutes ago!

[knitpick]

[The comment from a passerby is unexpected, violet eyes sliding up to coolly eye the girl. Sighing softly, she smooths a hand over the knitted fabric, a long rectangle with a pattern of ribbing that would eventually become a scarf.]

Knitting is a more forgiving craft than most, once you know the tricks. Many errors can be fixed with a crochet hook even long after they've been made.

[And luckily, her error now was just a matter of forgetting what she should be doing, easily taken care of by just knowing what the stitches look like and examining her work so far. Already, she's taken her needles back up and continued with her pattern, working much slower than she might have typically for the sake of multitasking.]

[ayes]

That's true, I guess... you have to usually use a seam ripper if you mess up while sewing! I'm just used to noticing my mistakes quicker with that. But... if I did a lot of knitting, I'd probably be better at noticing my mistakes there.

i, how can i resist

[witchhooded]

[ There are several things Jade and Rose have in common, truth be told - one of those is the simple fact that neither of them have an actual concept of time. Jade's inability to keep to a schedule is more likely thanks to her narcoleptic episodes; where Rose's comes from, she doesn't know. It's probably, she thinks, coming from a part of her that wants to prove she isn't a child to be coddled. Acting more mature than they are is just, bluntly put, a trait she shares with Dave. Or maybe it's that they were in situations where they had to grow up faster than Jade did. She was isolated, raised by a dog/god that always seemed to know what it was she needed (not necessarily wanted) at any given moment. Rose had... her mom.

Jade adjusts her gigantic glasses, green eyes magnified to twice their size in them. Rose is asleep, head resting on her desk that's littered with the tell tale signs of Work Mode Rose. This is the first time they've really met offline, and Rose might be hard to read at times - it doesn't help that the internet allows them to enjoy a veil of anonymity in a sense. The person you present to others is a lot easier to fake with just colored text to work off of. Still, Jade's pretty sure Rose is cool and reliable with a hint of reckless determination. If Rose Lalonde were a potion brew, she'd be made up of the most ominous things in your cupboard, plus a bundle of yarrow, which Jade thinks might be one of the hardiest flowers out there. It can withstand so much and still stay alive, and when grown just right, it can be a purple as Rose's favorite shade of purple.

There's a stack of papers in Jade's hands. Nothing outstanding, just enough to give the impression she's got something she's working on. Her arms are crossed over her chest and the paper's crinkling just a bit as she pulls it closer to her chest, pursing her lips in thought. It's clear Rose needs the rest, exhaustion on her features in spots. Jade imagines that it'll be worse when she wakes up, and winces as she considers Rose's desk beneath her face. The smudge of black will probably come out, at least, but it makes her think about how precise the application is, and how Rose is very particular about her make up... Anything that threatens it in such an ordinary way wouldn't be tolerated, Jade thinks.

So instead of rousing her from her rest, Jade only tiptoes closer before sliding the chair across from Rose out. She's careful, and she plops down with a little squish! from the cushion. It might not be as glamorous as Grandpa's study, but it's still pretty great - and even better, it's all Rose's, which makes it so. Cool.

Once she's in that so cool chair, Jade places the papers on her lap, and then rest her chin just so on the desk. She tilts her head, and stares into Rose's blonde hair, before leaning in just a bit...

The chair squeaks lightly, and Jade's own hair is spilling onto the wood.

And then, with her mouth just inches away from Rose's ear-- ]

Do you remember the episode where Skipper Plumbthroat tried to make loads and loads of traps for the little squiddies, so that they would get led right into his net?

[ ...And very gently whispers the plot of a Squiddles episode into Rose's ear. Okay. ]

[knitpick]

[She thinks she's dreaming at first. She's never been prone to much of the ordinary sort of dreams, not in comparison to the jaunts on Derse and treks through dreambubbles that characterized much of her life the last few years, but what else would you call a voice easing into your unconscious thoughts to whisper nonsense? Slowly, though, the sound rouses her, and the soreness in her neck and back finishes the job of waking her up. Ugh, had she fallen asleep at her desk? Rose blearily lifts her head to take in Jade and squints at her friend, the effect a little spoiled by the smudged eyeliner around her eyes.]

Why.

[There is no hint of a question's inflection in that very flat statement.]

[witchhooded]

[ If Jade knew how to wear make up or apply it, she'd feel inclined to fix it for Rose now. As an apology, more than anything - there wasn't any point to her Squiddles plot rehash. Giggling, she leans back in the chair, and the front legs teeter off the floor. ]

Would you prefer I'd woken you up with a lick?

[ After all, that was Jade's wake up call for year and... to be honest, sometimes it's hard to fight the doggy urge to lap at someone's cheek if she's particularly excited. ]

I kind of miss being able to watch the Squiddles, though!!!

ii

[winddaughter]

[Anemone is... always around the market. It's routine, as she's always running about making deliveries for any of the local vendors, hopping from place to place.

She's used to weaving around people. She's used to crowds.

She's used to a lot of things, but not someone suddenly floating down from the sky and landing at the shopfront that she's just coming out from.

!!!

She stumbles backwards in startled surprise, glad that her hands are currently empty.]

You--how did you do that--?!

[knitpick]

[The surprise surprises her, and Rose startles a little at the sudden stuttering exclamations. She looks over to the girl (pink hair, how bold), her darkly-painted lips frowning slightly.]

A bit of flying can't possibly be the strangest thing you've ever seen.

[Is this girl a local or another refugee? She isn't sure yet, and that's the only reason she doesn't immediately bring up for comparison the whole "swept away to an alternate universe after a magic space sorme ate the worls" thing.]

[winddaughter]

[You'd think that but.]

I've seen machines fly, but not people.

[And she's seen some weird stuff around this place, but oddly she's been a bit more sheltered about other things.]

iii

[competing]

[ he passes by after a shift at work, still dressed in his mallgoth black with his insignia neatly pinned over his left breast. he'd wandered into the cafe to grab himself an iced tea to refresh himself, catching a few stares from the public (half-parts due to his attire, the other half due to the rifle he still keeps slung across his back).

when he spots rose tucked into her little corner, he can't help the brow that arches at the sight of her.. work. wandering closer, he allows himself a few moments to look at the detail of her work, spotting, too, where her little flub happened, before leaning back to greet her. ]

Knitting, huh? Didn't think you'd be the type.

[ it's a. surprisingly wholesome hobby, after all. ]

[knitpick]

[Rose's gaze cuts up a bit sharply at first, prone to taking offense at what could be taken as some jab at her as a person. But it's just Lance, and she softens as she lets out a breath through pursed, painted lips.]

A friend once suggested I take up a hobby and sent me some needles and yarn for my birthday. It was only fair that I give it a try.

[Passive-aggression, or just John being thoughtful in his goober way? It's still hard to say. Finishing a stitch to leave her at a neater pausing point, Rose glances up at Lance, noting all his (thankfully matching) blacks.]

Are you working or just now finishing up?

[She's kinda lost track of the time so she couldn't say which seems more likely.]

[competing]

Just finishing up.

[ to be fair to rose, lance's hours tend to fluctuate. with a district like that of the market, busier times can be any given hour of the day, meant to accommodate those who work and those who don't. so some days he'll be there at the buttcrack of dawn, and other days he won't be coming home till well into the evening. today is the latter. the cafe is actually meant to be closing soon. ]

Your friend has good taste. You been at it for a while? That's a pretty tough pattern.

ii

[strictdiscipline]

[ After space stations, giant mechas, and 9 foot tall walking-and-talking goats, flying girls are less of a surprise than they might have once been. Riza startles all the same, head spinning 'round in surprise at the sudden presence to her left. But her reaction's nothing compared to Hayate at her side, who whines and then growls at Rose, none too pleased by the intrusion.

It's fully expected behavior from him, but Riza's gaze turns apologetic all the same as she tries to quiet him down. ]

I'm sorry, he's not used to surprises.

[ Especially surprises of the slightly more supernatural variety. ]

[knitpick]

[For a flying girl from a world of aliens, time travel, and gods, the sudden growling seems to startle Rose...probably way more than it should. She practically jumps out of her skin, whirling to face the threat and making an odd gesture with one hand--

But nothing comes of it, because her sylladex doesn't work here and the Quills of Echidna are tucked neatly in her bag rather than her strife specibus. Which is good, because it's just an ordinary dog growling at her, and Rose imagines the woman trying to calm it would have been a bit distressed if she'd blasted a hole in her dog.

Rose forces herself to relax, adopting an easier stance and plastering on a faint smile that doesn't reach her eyes.]

Ah...that's quite alright. It's my fault for surprising him, I suppose.

[strictdiscipline]

[ It takes a few more moments before Hayate's growling subsides into unhappy whining as he peers at Rose from behind Riza's legs, though that's probably less threatening to Rose than loud barking. ]

Flying is quite unusual for him unless it's coming from a bird. [ And Rose looks nothing like a bird. ] He doesn't bite though, unless I tell him to.

[ Probably not as reassuring a statement as it could be, all things considered. But let's move on. ]

Were you floating earlier?

[ Or did she just drop down from some nearby roof…just checking. ]

ii

[reek]

[ Theon wishes he couldn’t be surprised. He really does. Between his home being destroyed, his best friend returning to life, ships sailing through the stars, and timelines not even aligning properly, you would think he could take on just about anything, but there are still a great many things he doesn’t understand. Including the concept of flight. ]

Seven hell...

[ He jumps as a flash of orange flutters down from the sky. Instinctively, his hand goes to the dagger at his belt. He doesn’t draw it, but he clearly appears unsettled by the entire situation. ]

How did you--?

[ EXPLAIN, PLEASE! ]

[knitpick]

[The game made fighters out of all of them. Rose wasn't out with any mindfulness of danger, but the sudden curse and movement beside her draws her attention like a dog to a slab of meat, and the man's reaching for a weapon puts her on the defensive before she can even think twice about it.

The motion she makes is...oddly, not towards her hip or her bag or any place where one might traditionally grab a weapon from, but instead towards the air just beside her. It's an aborted motion, because she remembers belatedly that she can't draw from her strife specibus here. Shit, she'll have to correct that instinct before some actual threat rears its head.

This, at least, doesn't seem like an actual threat. The young man doesn't actually draw his dagger, so Rose chooses not to pull her wans from her bag. She could do some decent magic without them anyway, if needed. But she doubts there might be a need in broad daylight, in the middle of a market with a man who seems more startled than anything.

So she relaxes. Tactfully, she smiles, darkly-painted lips forming a neat little curve, and raises her hands as if in surrender.]

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I forget it's unusual for some people.

[That's...still not an explanation, Rose.]

[reek]

You did not frighten me.

[ He huffs at the accusation, no matter how true it may have been. He was frightened. A slow smirk forms on his lips, but it’s a facade. His unblinking stare and the slow, unwilling manner in which he drags his fingers away from his dagger is all too telling.

There was a time when, perhaps, he wouldn’t be shaken by such a thing. He would laugh it off as though it was nothing more than a magician’s trick, but this isn’t Westeros, and there are more than just magician’s tricks at play here. He eyes her strangely, questioningly. ]

How is it done?

[ He may be a bit dumb, but he’s not that dumb. He knows you haven't answered the question, Rose. ]

it can only be merlin going into offices he shouldn't

[politrick]

[Merlin does not work at the Institute. Ironically, Merlin doesn't approach the Institute much, as much as he might like to - mostly because he doesn't want to be someone's errand boy more than he already is, delivering letters and parcels around the city for a livable wage. It's a terrible fate, wanting to stick his fingers into so many magic pies but not wanting to have any official responsibility or duties about it.

This is dumb, Merlin is dumb. But he's still in the Institute in the later hours of waning daylight, having come back after whatever delivery he made earlier in the afternoon, and he's just... innocently having a look around. Not snooping! He wouldn't snoop. Never.

It's not snooping until he spots an open office door and peeks inside as he walks past, and definitely snooping when he sighs to himself and walks right in, considering Rose slumped over her desk. Their first meeting went so well, so perhaps instead of waking her up, he'll just... tidy up. That's, uh, normal.

He's picking up an empty mug to add to a stack of things that look like they need organizing when he turns and absolutely kicks over a wastebasket with his dumb clumsy feet. It's loud. It clatters away so loudly. He may die here, but instead he looks over his shoulder at Rose and waits for his inevitable fate.]

of course

[knitpick]

[Fortunately, she isn't a super heavy sleeper. A few years of homicidal trolls, random visits from ghosts, and living with a brother who has no concept of privacy will do that to a person.

So yes, she stirs at the sudden racket. Groans in protest and leaves her face pressed to the desk for a moment while she tries to roll the soreness out of her shoulders, before sitting up to see what's going on.

And...Merlin. The Merlin, if her drunk memory serves her correctly, though remembering that only brings back a rush of embarrassment. Not for the first time, she wishes her drunk memory wasn't quite so good.

Ugh. Her makeup is totally smudged, she can feel it. Literally feel it sitting on her skin in spots it shouldn't be. Neatly, she rubs a finger just below her lip for confirmation, and when it comes away marred with black lipstick she's both unsurprised and annoyed. She frowns at the stain on her finger for a moment before looking back up at Merlin with a very flat look.]

Do you try to catch me at my worst moments? Because you're distressingly good at it.

[Remember the giggly, expressive girl you drunkenly argued with? She isn't here right now. The girl here is cool and poised somehow despite having just woken up in the middle of a disaster of an office with smudged makeup.]

the destined encounter

[politrick]

[To be honest, Merlin is surprised she isn't immediately snapping at him. Yes, she was drunk the last time they spoke (argued), and his own memory of that whole conversation is fuzzy at best, but. Hmm.

Well, he's politely ashamed enough of kicking the wastebasket over to be busy shifting his stack of mugs and papers around and stooping to stand it back up while she assesses her makeup. He won't comment.

He probably won't comment.]

Usually I'm the one being caught at the worst possible time, so no, I didn't mean for any of this, actually. [He hefts the papers a little.] You dropped, well, everything.

[Mmmmm... awkward. Okay-] You really shouldn't sleep on desks. Terrible for posture.

iv. test subject reporting in

[21stcenturyguy]

[The War of the Thermostat is still going strong in their house, so when Rose starts knitting, Aoi makes sure to wander by and shiver. If it's so cold you need to actively produce winter-wear, it's time to turn off the damn AC, Rose!]

I hope you're making enough to share with your roommates if you're gonna freeze our asses off.

[So, you know, if you need someone you don't feel guilty turning into a guinea pig for the greater fashion good, today's your lucky day.]

hello aoi welcome to hell

[knitpick]

[It's finally a comfortable temperature in here, which is why she actually stayed to do a little work at home and sleep in a real bed. The knitting has nothing to do with the AC being on, but Aoi's pointed shivering and comment is so passive-aggressive she can't help but pause and immediately latch onto a way to turn it back on him.]

I did in fact bring enough to share with the class.

[Smiling pleasantly, Rose sets her current project aside and leans down to dig a previous attempt out of her work satchel by her feet. She draws out a knitted scarf, entirely simple in design. Not a piece she would normally be happy enough with to share with others, but it had just been for the sake of producing a working prototype and look at that, she even has a test subject available. This is definitely how ethical science works.

With a practiced casualness, she offers him the scarf.]

iii

[tricksune]

[ Oh, it's her again. Anyone could spot that get-up from across the city (and he certainly has to give it credit for being eyecatching—looks comfy too), and though he's mostly stopped by the cafe to examine the coffee selection, he doesn't get more than a few tables into the store before he slows to a stop, watching curiously for a moment before all but inviting himself to her table and taking roost in the seat across from her.

It's not her outfit that's got her attention today, though. Reason 1 is her handiwork, a surprisingly crafty thing that she seems to be pouring all her attention into. If she's stopped knitting out that line anyway— ]

Have you considered switching out the yarn color?

[ ...Reason 2 is her abandoned plate of food, but after his eyes dip there for a second too long, he stubbornly trains them on the scarf again. Priorities. ]

[knitpick]

[Rose is preoccupied with her work, but she doesn't fail to notice someone just taking a seat across from her without warning. Glancing up, she recognizes the strange guy she literally picked up in the landing zone. Still strange, evidently. And hungry, if she had to guess based on that lingering look she just caught him giving it.

Well, she's hungry too. She just...keeps getting distracted. And since he's rudely interrupting her work anyway, she take the moment to swt her knitting down and pick her sandwich back up, taking another bite. She gives him a long, flat look first before responding, silent just long enough for it to be pointed and meaningful.]

I might in later works. As I'm working on technique right now, it seems better not to overcomplicate it.