002

[solmate]

WHO: Alina + closed starters (Kirigan, Ciri, Kylo, Geralt)
WHAT: Alina haunts some friends new and old
WHERE: Free Cities, the Horizon
WHEN: Throughout October
NOTES: No warnings currently. This will be a catch-all for October threads. If you'd like a custom starter, dm me and we'll figure something out!

Comments

[solmate]

"I did," she returns, although there is some hesitation in her voice. It's not that she's unsure that she's asked for his help, no. She's unsure if she wants to follow-through.

Still dressed in non-distinct robes, still wearing the rattling bone shackles around her neck, feet, and ankles, she takes a few steps closer.

"I..." she starts and pauses, not quite sure how to phrase her ask. It should be so simple. She doesn't want to be shackled, why is it difficult to ask for that? Why is she nervous about it in this place that is but isn't real. Swallowing, she steels herself, pressing her shoulders back with a sort of forced confidence that isn't totally there.

"I want to take these off," she gestures with her wrists, pulling on the shackles. "I thought I might be able to use something from your domain."

[photophobic]

"Something?"

Or someone, perhaps, given that she could have made use of anything in his domain without seeking permission first. He looks her over— and it isn't exactly compassion in his eyes, or encouragement, or pity— but there is a depth of understanding. If she knows how to see it.

"Perhaps there is something I can do. All chains can be broken. May I?"

He reaches out a hand, glowing with molten heat just beneath the tortured surface of his skin. A little examination, first. If she'll allow it.

[solmate]

Something, someone. She had assumed she could find some flowing lava somewhere, but on some level it's all an extension of him right? And just as she's gained a finer control, a mastery and cooperation with her light, it seems he has the same relationship with the molten lava.

That doesn't stop her from completely hesitating, taking a long appraising look at his hands. She takes a breath in, rolling her shoulders back, an animal puffing up to look bigger. Braver.

She steps forward, more purposeful in her presentation of her wrists, pulling the chain taut between them.

"Should I take that to mean you've broken a few of your own?" She's no poet, but she assumes he knows she isn't speaking quite so literally. Her eyes flick up to his, curious. "Steel might be the easiest among them."