A Planned Walk

Log Info

• Title: A Planned Jog
• Emitter: Aryia
• Characters: Aryia, Aya
• Place:Eldwyn Road
• Time: January 4th, 2023
• Summary: Aryia and Aya go out for a jog outside the city, though Aya is unaware she is accompanied. One near kick to the face gets to the two sisters talking, and they come up with a plan to deal with It. Yes, It, a proper noun.

Northern Eldwyn Road, Midday

While there is little wind on the road this day, snow softly falls in little twirling flurries to stack up what already has been crushed down from the constant foot traffic.

One figure adding to that is a short woman in a green jacket, face covered with a grey scarf to ward off the wind. Blue boots stomp against the ground as they're running at a breakneck speed. Such outings were necessary; while the wardings of the city were kind to deal with the paranoia of something bad being teleported in, it still prevented oneself from being at their full potential.

Plus, there's less people in the way to barrel through. She'd be back before sunset, anyhow, coming in through the west gate.

Some find the walls reassuring; the wards a comfort. Others find them stifling after a time (and know that the wards are far less a barrier than many would believe or wish others to believe). There is also the scarved one. Conspicuous, perhaps, amongst others before and moreso now. Dashing through the snow, over hills, but without sleigh or laughter. She does seem to have a shadow, however, darting along the snow-capped growth off the road, yet seeming to keep pace all the same.

The scarfed one continues her routine, one foot in front of the other. The rhythmic beat of boot against snow a drum drowning out the mind. It's more than just physical exercise, it's mental.

It's not until the first turn that the scarfed one notes the darting shadow. Which makes them come to a sudden, sliding halt. Snow getting throwing up in all directions in a spray. She about-faces, hands raised as she cracks her neck, and what bits of exposed skin shimmers with a faint hue of silver lines upon them. They look about, poised.

"It is good to get out of the city, no?" comes the unbidden comment. A familiar voice. That it comes from close behind could be considered both familiar and ... not recently so. Should Aryia turn, the uneven cant of lips would also be well-known, along with the rest of Aya. While her usual attire might make her seem underclothed for the season, the mix of white cloth and darker flesh is rather convenient for their surroundings.

Aryia whirls around in a heel pivot, almost completing a full circled roundhouse kick. But it stops short, her knee up high and coiled in. She squints, the silverly lines around her eyes shifting as she looks Aya up and down. Behind the scarf, her lips are surely pursed taut.

There's a tense moment of calculation, then she lowers her leg. Hands stay up though to speak. "You do know popping up like that with me considering fuck face is still out there has the potential for you getting your nose snapped like a twig, right?" she motions. "But yes, it is good. Actually feel like I can move around." <Handspeech>

Aya lifts a forearm for potential deflection of the kick once it is recognized in motion. A testament to Aryia, possibly, that she would only have just raised it in time. Possibly. "Forgive me. A poor choice, but I felt indulgent in old habits," she explains, uneven smile still present, but her tone genuine. Her arm lowers. "It is freeing to be out of the walls after being confined too long."

Now, her smile lowers. "I intend to be free of, for all of us to be free of ... it soon. I have loitered long enough."

Aryia huffs, reaching up to reveal a thin line of lips unraveling somewhat to a proper smile. "I remember you used to spook the shit out of me every time. Now I'll just deck you." She takes a moment to focus, inhaling deeply before weaving her fingers together and popping her knuckles in one motion, the silverly lines on her face fading away. "It really is. Just as I figured out how to move like you a while back, they erected the wards. I fell flat on my fucking face thinking I'd be ten streets over."

She rubs at her face, a tint of rubor on her cheeks: either from the cold or the admittance. Aryia's brows furrow. "Good. It sounds as if you are ready for a strike, or a hunt. Or... whatever it is you have planned. Whatever it may be, I am with you," she signs, finishing with a fist getting smacked into an open palm. <Handspeech>

"Good. You shouldn't be afraid," Aya's smile returns somewhat. "Not so much that you cannot strike." Perhaps that was the lesson all long? Though it could be that she simply enjoyed unsettling others by doing it. The smile turns more wince at the image of Aryia faceplanting just on the verge of that, though she doesn't comment directly.

"It is a hunt," she clarifies, shifting back to that topic, "and I will need your help, sister. I have a thought to use bait in the hunt, without risking ... prize bait?" Her lips distort in consternation as the last does not come out as well or clear as intended.

Aryia shrugs somewhat. "The more I learn, the less I'm afraid about. And, well, the more I realize shit doesn't fucking bother me. Whatever that means," she gestures, putting her gloved hands into the pockets of her jacket momentarily to warm them.

She quirks her head to the side. "Prize bait," she repeats. "If you need help, but you're using bait, that means we're beating the shit out of that fucker together." She taps her chin. "But prize bait can't be me. The fucker doesn't care about you, just people around-"

Click!

"I understand. Tell me the plan. <Handspeech>

Aya nods and taps her temple before responding in further gesture. "It wants to harm me with others. It knows whom I care for, and who is the easiest target. It expects we will be together, and it would gain nothing harming him without me to witness." A pause. "So we will offer it what it seeks, but give it what it deserves. I obtained the means for us to disguise ourselves to lure it."

She pauses again, glancing down at herself before looking Aryia over for a long moment, until her head tilts. "Though you could possibly pass yourself as me without much effort." <handspeech>

Aryia crosses her arms, bobbing her head along as Aya explains. Her brows furrow. "That is all true and good means, though, what do you mean disguises? Magic ones?"

She follow's Aya's gaze to themselves. The mute scratches her head. "I could probably mimic your clothes- or just borrow them- easily. Though I have way too much scarring to cover up. Does the magic one need me to talk for it? I can't use most shit because it needs a word or two to be said."

Finally, the genius of the plan sparks in her eyes. "... oh. Oh. I see. Damn. Yes. This is a good idea. They won't know what hit it. However, there are two problems: one, we need Cor'lana. Two, we need to choose a place that will do the least damage possible. We don't want a repeat of the Balor incident." <Handspeech>

Aya nods with Aryia in agreement, answering the questions with her hands. "You need not speak. The items I acquired are simply worn and will grant you the appearance desired. They will not cover every aspect. We will still have our own voices, but we only need to draw it close."

Her lips purse. "Yes, we need Cor'lana and a location. The plan is not complete. I need your aid as much in that as the rest." <handspeech>

Aryia gives a thumbs up. "Good enough for me. If I'm going to be you, then you're going to be..." she trails off. "Well, we can just hold hands, no need to talk."

The mute rubs her chin, slowly walking back and forth. It looks like she is going to suggest a place, a hand raised halfway, but it falls away. "It will need to be in city to prevent it from teleporting away," she lists after after a third failed attempt at picking a place. "But it will need to be away from the temples, and away from residential areas. It will need to be away from the Noble district as damage there would cause even more pissy attitude after we've only just gotten back in good graces."

She ponders. Ponders. Ponders...- Aryia snaps her fingers. "You two are on your way to pick up a furniture shipment to the warehouse district," she grins. "Lots of places to hide there, if destruction happens, it happens to buildings and stuff, not people. And the place is shady anyways, so the city won't care too much." <Handspeech>

Aya smirks at her first comment. "I didn't plan to fuck in public." Yes, she uses -that- gesture. Maybe her sister's vocabulary is rubbing off on her. Following that, her expression returns to firm and serious, with several small nods marking each valid point. She is also left considering, brows furrowed.

Until she blinks at Aryia's epiphany. A new smile begins to curl her lips; one proud and more than a little predatory. "You are a genius. Who worked too long around the docks. Perhaps we could find a spot with walls that need to come down..." <handspeech>

Aryia's face blooms red at that, her only comment that of a playful shove in retaliation and a roll of the eyes. She huffs once, crossing her arms as she waits for other options to be presented.

But, instead, she gets approval. The mute smirks. "I know a couple of places," she thumbs her nose. "I'll scout them out so it's less conspicuous. I do not know if our raven friend has to wield 'it'-" she air quotes,"-but if push comes to shove, I'm not really good with holding sharp stuff, but I can do it for the final blow if we're left scrabbling. Though, I figure we're just going to pummel it to submission then execute." <Handspeech>

Aya's demeanor cracks with the blush and there is even a light laugh as she takes a step back to balance from the shove. The underlying discussion is no less serious, no less important, but maybe they don't need to be so somber about it? They both know the stakes.

Another nod, as they also both seem quite allied in their thoughts, too. "I am not trained in a blade any more than you, but that is the goal. We restrain it, or better, pummel it into unconsciousness for the final blow from her. I know it can be done" <handspeech>

Sometimes humor is the only the forward through anxiety. And the stakes have been there for so long and been accepted, it's merely fact now. Either this creature dies for good, or Aya dies for good.

Aryia's face hardens. "It can be done," she repeats the gestures with finality, huffing through her nose.

A motion is cut through the falling snow. "Want to finish this lap? I usually run the length of road around until I get to the west gate." <Handspeech>

A snowy brow arches above the snow as Aya lowers her hands. "I think I can keep pace..." Then her eyes lower towards Aryia's feet, linger briefly and then return. When they do, they pull an even, bemused curl of her lips with them. "This must be how you maintain those ... gripping calves." An odd comment, mayhap, but one that seems to spread the amusement into her eyes. Then, she is off, darting down the compacted snow of the road.

Aryia is left puzzled for a brief moment at the quip, brows knitted together in confusion. She looks down to her legs, lifting and raising one in a testing manner before-

A little spark of moonlight glitters off her eyes.

Chasing after Aya is Aryia with a bundle of snowballs in hand, her trying to chuck them at the just-barely-faster-than-her sister in retaliation.

-End Scene-