( open )

[cajolery]

Who: clair (cajolery) & you!
What: catch-all for wyver stuff & the second part of the event
When: now!
Where: various places in wyver
Warning(s): none (yet?)


A. JOURNEY TO WYVER: DONDE ESTA EL BANO

[ Clair isn't too thrilled with this prospect of picking up everything and dashing off to Wyver, though she can see the necessity. She's even less thrilled about leaving her sick friend in someone else's care for the gryphon flight over, but—that is also a necessity, and so she sets off on this journey with pragmatic determination.

That changes when she's given the option between a horse and carriage—a horse, of course! It's no pegasus, naturally, and not as finely bred as the warhorses she's accustomed to, but... it's been so long since she's been in the saddle that she's pretty easy to please, in the end.

She's pretty confident in her riding skills, but that doesn't always hold for the other refugees. Since she's such an incredibly generous soul, she'll approach anyone who doesn't look like they really know what they're doing with this whole horseback riding thing and jab them unceremoniously in the spine. ]

With that posture, you shall feel quite sore when this is over, I assure you—come now, straighten your back!

B. OLD CITY: THE BABY-SITTERS CLUB

[ How the heck did your character get roped into this? Well, if they're not exactly the child-caring type, then you can be certain that this girl is somehow at fault for volunteering the both of them to take care of children at the orphanage. Between the illness and the flood of people from Olympia, the unfortunate fact of the matter is that the orphanages are severely understaffed and need help—good thing they're here to save the day!!

Unfortunately, Clair has completely forgotten what a disaster her last experience in babysitting was. In fact, it's having the opposite effect of giving her unwarranted confidence in her (nonexistent) child-handling skills. She looks assured, but don't trust it. ]

This should be quite simple, no? [ She picks up one of the babies they've been tasked to look after, which immediately starts to cry. ] Ah...

C. UNDERGROWTH: THIS CANNOT POSSIBLY GO WRONG

[ Wait, how the heck did your character get roped into this one?? Well, no matter! A medicine woman in the city has lost her assistant—he journeyed into the Undergrowth in order to retrieve some special spring water, but he was supposed to return hours ago. Clair, being the magnanimous person she is, volunteered to help find him...

And so here they are, wandering the Undergrowth in search of the missing assistant. At least they can start by heading towards the rejuvenating spring that was the man's destination, and go from there. He should be somewhere nearby, right? ]

I do believe she said that the spring was east from here, did she not? [ Either way, they should be close. ]

D. WEST END: [CANTINA BAND PLAYS IN THE DISTANCE]

[ Even though Clair's more used to... houses of ill-repute than she was before, thanks to her time at Shades Darker, she has very little use for them, and so she steers clear. Instead, she goes for the ones that are a little more high-brow, with dancing and music and boisterous conversation spilling out of their doors—it's the kind of place that almost reminds her a little bit of home, of the inns and taverns the army frequented in its march to Rigel.

She finds herself drawn in by the lively atmosphere of one of those establishments—but, after buying a drink, she's faced with a dilemma: it's crowded in here, and all of the tables are taken.

Never one to let a setback deter her, she approaches someone with an empty chair at their table and smiles brightly. ]

This seat is not otherwise occupied, yes? Do allow me to join you. [ She's... pushy... ]

E. WILDCARD

[ Hit me with anything!! This is open to sick people too who need someone to take care of them... or just leave a blank comment and let me throw you a starter. Feel free to hit me up at optimismnice if you want to plot something out. :) ]

Comments

[underwhelms]

[ He's ugly and losing muscle mass from lack of exercise, there's no part of him that's "all right". But, miraculously, instead of being a drama queen about his current pathetic state, JJ just smiles at Clair when she wanders in, looking slightly crazed given his haggard appearance. ]

Yeah, I'm okay.

[ Constant ache and pain aside; weird sweatiness aside. He kind of resembles a sad raccoon, relieved that Clair's decided to nurse him rather than put him down. ]

Was the soup okay to make?

[cajolery]

[ Admittedly, he doesn't look very okay at all—which she supposes is understandable, given the blood-oozing factor. For her experiences with Clive and Fernand when they fell ill, she expects him to either a.) staunchly pretend like he's perfectly fine or b.) regress back to childhood—no, babyhood.

Maybe this is the first option. ]

Oh, I have not yet made it! [ She smiles and lifts up her bag of groceries to show him. Yes, after all that time, she was only just buying the ingredients. Why she thought that commandeering his kitchen for this was a good idea... I don't know. ]

Come, do get settled! Then I shall begin preparing your meal. [ She extends her hand to help him up. ]

[underwhelms]

You haven't made it yet.

[ JJ repeats, his hopes and dreams dying in that very instant.

He can't really get mad at her when she's extending a hand to him like a friend, and especially not when she's so perky and enthusiastic about this venture. A gentleman is supposed to protect a lady's smile after all, and JJ might be clad only in his boxers and a blanket at 3 in the afternoon, but he's still a gentleman.

Accepting the offered hand, he hauls himself up, unsteady on his feet and shuffling toward the kitchenette to lean against the wall. ]

There's not really... a lot of supplies here?

[ He'll have to eat the ingredients raw, won't he. ]

[cajolery]

[ She accompanies him to the kitchenette, setting her bag down on the counter before surveying what she has to work with here, opening cabinets and drawers to see what's inside—not that she has any clue what a well-stocked kitchen looks like, or where to even begin. Or what she's even doing. But at least she looks (and sounds) confident? ]

'Tis no trouble at all! I shall just have to make do.

[ This is a complete lie. She glances towards JJ, blinking as if she's just noticed that he's leaning against the wall. ]

What on earth are you still doing here? Really, you must rest! Shoo! [ She waves a hand at him, as if to herd him out of the room. ] I shall have your stew ready shortly.

[underwhelms]

[ JJ peers over at her from his position against the wall, he doesn't have a lot of confidence at the moment, but has to admit that seeing her, and she looks so sure of herself, it's hard not to believe in her.

He's not that hungry anyway, he doesn't mind the wait. ]

It's boring being in bed. [ He's spending most of his time in bed nowadays, nearly twenty hours out of his day like he's some kind of lion. ] I'd rather be out here with you.

[ Presumably there is a small table by the kitchenette that he can sink onto, spreading over the table, boneless. ]

You said it wouldn't take long anyway.

[cajolery]

[ Sorry, JJ, this is just going to end in disappointment for you. For everyone, really.

She pauses her kitchen inspection to consider his suggestion, a thoughtful look on her face. After a second, she nods her head, as if coming to a decision. His story checks out—she would be bored out of her mind if she was in his shoes, forced to stay inside and rest for weeks on end. Besides, what can it hurt? She'll allow it. ]

Yes, I can see how so much time abed must feel exceedingly dull. Very well!

[ She stands on her tiptoes and rummages through the cabinet over the stove, extracting a large pot that she then sets on the counter with a flourish. She looks pretty proud of herself, and this is only step one. ]

I do believe that this shall serve very well indeed. [ Pause. She digs into her grocery bag, pulling out a container of chicken stock. ] I suppose I shall begin with this, yes?

[ This is the first sign that Something May Be Amiss. ]

[underwhelms]

[ JJ has no idea. If Clair is expecting any help from him during this endeavour, then her hope is sorely misplaced. He's never made soup from scratch, always having stolen some from his parents' house or used the tinned kind. He'd only started living on his own a couple of years ago, and while JJ had a seemingly endless amount of energy for different outdoor activities, he'd never had the patience to really master cooking.

His cooking repertoire is limited to protein: eggs, grilled meats. ]

Looks good. I'm really excited to eat... Did you get the ginger?

[ He's starting to lie further on the table, his cheek pressing against the wood as he squints blearily at Clair. ]

[cajolery]

[ Don't worry, she doesn't expect him to help—he's sick, isn't he? No, instead she has full misplaced confidence in her own ability to make literally the simplest dish in existence.

Anyway, she starts dumping the stock into the pot, then pulling the rest of the ingredients out of the bag, until they're all piled haphazardly on the counter. At JJ's question, she beams and holds up a giant raw ginger root. And you doubted her!! ]

Indeed I did! I said I would, did I not?

[ Now she surveys the rest of the various ingredients she bought... there's the chicken, naturally, as well as myriad random vegetables—she had to go with what was available, but seemed reasonable enough for a stew. Carrots, celery... onions... broccoli? ]

I must cut these up, I presume? Yes, of course. [ She's talking to herself, basically. ]

[underwhelms]

[ JJ smiles, and it doesn't take long before he's growing less and less conscious of what's going on. His face mashes further against the table. ]

Yeah... cut them up...

[ He's gone, do whatever you want Clair, it'll probably end up a disaster. ]

1/2

[cajolery]

[ She will, thank you very much.

She's wholly focused on her task now, rummaging through the drawers and coming up with a giant knife. At least she takes quite a bit of care while she chops up the vegetables so that she doesn't cut herself, though her skill still leaves a lot to be desired. For one thing, her vegetable pieces are all different shapes and sizes, and she struggles especially hard with the onion, which she can barely see through her tears...

Anyway, when she's done with that, she dumps everything into the pot. At once. And puts the whole thing on the stove, though that soon gives her pause—she's trying to remember how to turn the thing on.

Um... ]

Ah, Jean-Jacques...

[ She turns around—oh. He's fast asleep. Is it really alright for him to be sleeping on the table like that? It can't be good for his neck. Then again, it's probably a good thing to let him get his rest... ]

[cajolery]

[ Long story short, the (small) fire on the stove will probably wake him up. If not— ]

My word!

[underwhelms]

[ JJ jerks awake when he hears Clair yell, his eyes only half open when he spots the fire and his mind immediately jumps into panic mode.

First of all, he jerks so hard that he falls backwards in the chair. ]

Ohhh, my God! Stop— [ REMEMBER SMOKY THE BEAR ] STOP—

[ But Clair's from a weird, backwards world. There's no way she knows what to do. She probably thinks some magical pixie is going to appear out of no where and put the fire out.

THERE IS NO PIXIE

So he just scrambles to his feet and fucking tackles her to the ground. ]

STOP DROP AND ROLL CLAIR.

[cajolery]

[ What? The? Fuck? JJ??

Since he's probably like twice her size and also made of solid muscle, she goes down pretty hard when he fucking tackles her. So hard that she feels a little disoriented for a second there, as if she has no idea how she started on her feet but ended up laid out on the floor, a massive sick man on top of her. ]

J-Jean—

[ She just sort of blinks dazedly at the ceiling as she tries to puzzle out what stop, drop, and roll is supposed to mean. She's pretty sure she couldn't roll anywhere right now.

Also, the fire on the stove is still going because that's where the fire is. ]

Th-The stew!

[underwhelms]

[ He's doing his Best. ]

It's going to be okay.

[ He says, deliriously, because he has absolutely no idea what is going on. All he knows is that there's a fire, and they should get away because he might not know a lot about survival, but he definitely knows that fire is not to be played with. It doesn't look like either of them have caught fire yet at least, which means that there's still time to escape. ]

We need to get out of here. [ Like, out of the burnable hut they live in. ] I'll help you.

[ And in his mind, he helps her up as they both book it out of the build. In reality however, he's just lying there. ]

[cajolery]

[ It's pretty much this moment that makes Clair realize that JJ is completely out of it—and he's going to be wholly useless. Her head still feels like it's swimming, though, and he's so heavy that she feels like she can barely breathe—luckily, there's nothing like the threat of burning down the whole shantytown neighborhood to encourage motivation. ]

Jean-Jacques! Do— [ Here, she shoves to his shoulder in an attempt to roll him off of her. ] Do stand up!

[ She shoves again. If that doesn't work, she just starts wriggling out from underneath him, until she can get to her feet—the world tilts a little, but fire—and rush to the stove. Which is still in flames, by the way—luckily they've stayed mostly contained to the stew in the pot, and haven't reached high enough to set the walls or ceiling on fire.

Yet. ]

Oh, goodness me! [ What does she do?? Water?? Is there water??? ]

[underwhelms]

[ Way to go, Clair.

Meanwhile, JJ just stays on the floor like the useless pos that he is. He's at least rolled onto his back now, one arm draped over his eyes as he groans slightly. ]

Clair... We need to get out of here. The stew's not worth dying over.

[ The stew is long gone by now, and even if JJ is still slightly hungry, he doesn't really have time to contemplate that with the fire and the smoke. It doesn't smell appetizing in the least, and eventually the heaviness of the smoke causes JJ's stomach to roll. He manages to get himself up on his knees again, rolling up weakly, but it's not a testament to much of anything when he starts dry heaving, speckles of blood falling from his lips onto the floor.

Clair's doing great, btw. ]

[cajolery]

[ That turns out to be the wrong (or right, depending on your perspective) thing to say to her right now, because it only spurs her motivation to put out this fire. As if such a thing as a little kitchen fire would ever kill her—how preposterous!

Her inflated self-confidence buoys. ]

It is not nearly so bad as that!

[ She coughs a little in the smoke—sinks have water, right? The faucet thing? She'll have to act fast! ]

Do stay as you are.

[ Since he's just going to get in her way at this point. First she fills up another pot with water—it takes an agonizingly long time, it feels like—and dumps it, over and over, on the flames. The tiny kitchen actually works in their favor for this, since she doesn't have to travel back and forth at all.

Finally, one last big bucket of water extinguishes the fire. The pot of stew sits there on the stove, smoking. ]

There!

[underwhelms]

[ JJ's essentially died in a pool of his own blood at this point, and it's all very glamorous as he pushes himself up into a sitting position, crosslegged on the floor like he's a little boy. His head is all the more stuffed with cotton than it had been before, and the life saving activities have tuckered him right out.

Now he's actually hungry. ]

Did you do it? [ Presumably all the fire means that the food is finished. ] Are we going to eat now?