(open.) goldenseal

[medicative]

Who ⬤ Emily and open!
What ⬤ Monthly catchall - substories, life, etc.
When ⬤ Over March
Where ⬤ Across the city.
Content Warnings ⬤ TBA if needed


sprout. - post mingle

[it's not her scene at all. already on edge, Emily had kept it together long enough to get her pay advance, thanked people kindly, and then bolted. overwhelming, bad for her senses, and so she had gone to the roof, stretched her wings, and flown away. immediately, she had started feeling better, the relief that comes from exercise and movement and being out of an environment that puts her ill at ease.

where she lands, it's away from the nightclub, but she carefully wanders, trying to get her bearings. it's much harder than it appears, in the dimmer light, even with things illuminated by electricity and the life that still thrums through the place. and unfortunately for a person that looks lost, it's all too easy to get spotted by those who might be drunk, might not be, but see virtue in calling out on the street to try to get one more person to join them for fun.]

No thank you, I'm not-

[they don't seem to be willing to accept the first no for an answer. alternatively, you've arrived later, and someone has Emily slung over their shoulder. despite the awkward state of affairs, she is very clearly trying to squirm out of their grasp, more annoyed than anything else about being swept away, and the youkai holding her seems ignorant to how she's trying to get out. or maybe just used to it. ugh. she's not giving up yet though.]

growth. - night parade

[decorating is an important part of being ready for the parade, Emily knows, and for this, she can put her full energy behind it. after failing so miserably at socializing earlier, she's doing her best to remain dutiful here. that means fetching what she's been told to, assisting those who might have shakier footing, or giving gentle but honest advice about what looks best. and of course, for those harder to reach spots, it does help when you can fly up and hover some to affix it in the best spot. this might be why she keeps getting assigned to the trickier bits.

of course, no one can keep being full of steam all the time, and so it is that on break, she's found a good spot to sit down - right on a wooden box, slumped over and clutching onto a water bottle as if it will save her. but hearing any footsteps, she sits up, the flush of exertion in her face still evident.]

Has it been twenty minutes already? Goodness.

[self defense training or not, it's like running a marathon...]

bloom. - work

[she bows her head and accepts the sneers thrown her ways from the other girls - they don't understand why an uptight member of the Sutoku would seek a steadier job with the club that falls under more of the Tamamo purview, but the manager accepts it with a grunt and lets Emily have her work. employment is employment, and she needs funds if she's going to get anywhere, so she'll sell what's most useful right now - her voice. Hotaru is the stage name she chooses for herself, and she does her best to ingratiate herself with the others, learning what the band would prefer to play and what songs they can collaborate on. really, she closes her ears to anything else, keeps to herself - even the most sharp eyed can't find fault with her attitude off stage, and so she'll gain her money carefully.

so, perhaps you've come in to enjoy a leisurely night at a slower pace, and she's in the midst of her set, singing and making the right kind of eye contact with customers. maybe it's earlier, and you work there, early enough to hear the sounds of a minor scuffle in the back that ends with a door slammed and Emily stumbling out of that direction, a bundle in her arms. or maybe it's later, and you're at the bar, and a soft voice comes from your side.]

I wouldn't, if I were you.

[it's the careful grind, after all. there's the idea of quitting and finding a different place, and she has the number of a different club in another district, but...she wants her first paycheck at least.]

wildcard.

[for custom prompts and new ideas and the like. ooc intro if you'd like to plot something specific, or hit me up via PM!]

Comments

[apathie]

[not for long, however. nehan's vision goes grey around the edges, making him blink a few times in order to right it. but the problems still remain-- and it's obvious, with the way his pupils have almost immediately contracted almost to pinpricks after emily's comment.

of course fate would fuck him up like that. of course.

he closes his eyes and rubs his temples, counting to ten in his head, but his vision has still not cleared-- in fact, it's gotten much worse, and he ends up stumbling around, swerving around a planter in the street.

there's actually no planter. he swerved around nothing.]

[medicative]

[the difference is notable and alarming, and she throws out an arm to try and steady him, seeing him like this.]

Mr. Nehan?! Do you need to sit down?

[his eyes...the vision must be impaired, and he'll be safer if he's in one place and not at risk of running into anything. of course, the question is if she can find a place for them to sit and him to describe what he's going through.]

[apathie]

[a headache hits not too long after the dimming of his sight, and with it, a ringing in his ears. he does hear her, vaguely, but raises a hand as if to say "no". or "i can do this myself". he's already heading towards the general area of the children's park he saw, because he does remember where it is.

(or thinks he remembers where it is.)

but there are people in his way, so many shoes, like he's wading through a crowd, and nehan swipes at the air with one arm just to shove them away. except there's no one around and he's just waving his arm at nothing.]

[medicative]

Please - you're in no fit state to be walking around like this.

[she won't grab him, but she hovers close, trying to be helpful - or really, to just keep anyone else that may pass by away from him. there's a bench about a block down, but that requires making it through the block.]

If you need to lean on me, you can, I promise.

[apathie]

[this drug is affecting him more than he would like, when it's taken away much of his sight and hearing. he does hear emily well enough even with the ringing in his ears, and while he wants to just not... he has no choice, because he'd be easy prey. he already is easy prey.]

Fine.

[his voice isn't right either, when he cant hear it. he sounds nasally, like he has a cold. but he stops swatting at thin air, and waves it instead, looking for her to lean on.]

[medicative]

[she lets his arm go over her shoulders - she's warm and steady, and lets him still bear most of his own weight, not touching more than needed. her presence is more akin to a cane, an implement to assist him to the bench.]

There we go.

[said softly, not to patronize but to soothe. they'll get there quick enough like this, and no one is looking. surely they've seen worse.]

[apathie]

[from the outside, he looks like a drunkard stumbling around, but nehan wishes he were drunk right now, rather than drugged to the gills. his headache is not actually a headache, but a migraine. or perhaps his headache has moved on to a migraine, however that happened.

he coughs softly, though nothing really comes from that.

but whatever his condition, he still puts one foot in front of the other to get to where they need to be, then sits down heavily with a huff, shielding his eyes from the sky.]

[medicative]

How are you feeling now?

[once he's settled, she sits at his side, prepared to reach over and brace him should he need it again. these symptoms, these signs - the drug seems mostly to disorient, and she wonders if it's meant specifically for that - to incapacitate another.]

[apathie]

[her voice sounds like he's underwater, and she's above it, attempting to get through to him. perhaps if his hearing weren't better than a regular human's due to his ears, he might have missed it altogether.]

Like a bull ran me over.

Migraine symptoms... write that down.