Advocate Sonja Klee (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
theosophomoric) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
phantasmalrift2018-05-15 05:04 pm
theosophomoric) wrote in phantasmalrift2018-05-15 05:04 pm
would we arrive at agreeable musings
Who: Sonja Klee & her Rubbery Hound, and open!
What: Catchall for during and just after the heatwave; Sonja hasn't seen direct sunlight or natural rain in nearly a decade and now this.
When: May 2-5
Where: Beach, annex, or station.
Warnings: None expected currently.
May 2-4
[By mid-morning each day of the heat wave, Sonja's made her way down to the seashore, a large black umbrella in hand to keep the direct sunlight off of her as much as possible - she's well aware by now that the Sun here isn't going to judge her a lawbreaker and kill her, but the light's still a good deal more intense than she's used to and she is very pale. She's somewhat more briefly dressed than she often is, and she's left her bag and shoes and stockings neatly arranged near the base of the cliff.
Maybe you run across her on Bloodsands beach, sitting waist-deep in the surf and throwing a piece of driftwood off into the waves for Electra to fetch - the rubbery hound's movement in the water is much less doglike than her walking gait, though her clear enjoyment of the game is very canine.
Or maybe you run across the pair over on Glitterstone beach, where Sonja picks through the scales to find a handful of particularly nice ones as the hound follows along, occasionally bounding off down the shore and then back to Sonja... or where, later in the morning, you might find them near the cave entrance that leads back up toward the station, as Sonja carefully examines the dog for ticks.]
No, girl, sit still, I'm not having these little bastards in our room.
[In the afternoons, Sonja - in a long skirt and button-down shirt, now, although the silhouette she cuts suggests that she's decided that in this weather, the corset and petticoats are much more trouble than they're worth - retreats to the unfinished cavern of the annex underlevel with a book and a drink and a plate of finger sandwiches, and what appears to be a cushion scavenged from one of the chairs in the library. She's sprawled out on the living stone as she reads, elbows propped up on the cushion. Nearby, the hound does similarly, only minus the reading and the cushion; if someone else enters, Electra greets them with a soft whoof and a damp thud of wagging tentacle-tail against the floor.]
May 5
[You know how standing in a high place during an electrical storm is a bad idea? Sonja doesn't seem to have gotten that message. She's out on the roof of the station - the public area, at least, she hasn't climbed up to the technical half - right up at the edge, both hands firmly clasped around the railing and leaning out a little. If you get close enough to see, her eyes are closed tight, and she appears to be listening intently as the rainwater runs down her face and neck in rivulets and slicks her hair and clothes to her skin.
The thunder isn't saying anything, and somehow that makes her feel further from home than any of the rest of this whole outlandish situation.]
What: Catchall for during and just after the heatwave; Sonja hasn't seen direct sunlight or natural rain in nearly a decade and now this.
When: May 2-5
Where: Beach, annex, or station.
Warnings: None expected currently.
May 2-4
[By mid-morning each day of the heat wave, Sonja's made her way down to the seashore, a large black umbrella in hand to keep the direct sunlight off of her as much as possible - she's well aware by now that the Sun here isn't going to judge her a lawbreaker and kill her, but the light's still a good deal more intense than she's used to and she is very pale. She's somewhat more briefly dressed than she often is, and she's left her bag and shoes and stockings neatly arranged near the base of the cliff.
Maybe you run across her on Bloodsands beach, sitting waist-deep in the surf and throwing a piece of driftwood off into the waves for Electra to fetch - the rubbery hound's movement in the water is much less doglike than her walking gait, though her clear enjoyment of the game is very canine.
Or maybe you run across the pair over on Glitterstone beach, where Sonja picks through the scales to find a handful of particularly nice ones as the hound follows along, occasionally bounding off down the shore and then back to Sonja... or where, later in the morning, you might find them near the cave entrance that leads back up toward the station, as Sonja carefully examines the dog for ticks.]
No, girl, sit still, I'm not having these little bastards in our room.
[In the afternoons, Sonja - in a long skirt and button-down shirt, now, although the silhouette she cuts suggests that she's decided that in this weather, the corset and petticoats are much more trouble than they're worth - retreats to the unfinished cavern of the annex underlevel with a book and a drink and a plate of finger sandwiches, and what appears to be a cushion scavenged from one of the chairs in the library. She's sprawled out on the living stone as she reads, elbows propped up on the cushion. Nearby, the hound does similarly, only minus the reading and the cushion; if someone else enters, Electra greets them with a soft whoof and a damp thud of wagging tentacle-tail against the floor.]
May 5
[You know how standing in a high place during an electrical storm is a bad idea? Sonja doesn't seem to have gotten that message. She's out on the roof of the station - the public area, at least, she hasn't climbed up to the technical half - right up at the edge, both hands firmly clasped around the railing and leaning out a little. If you get close enough to see, her eyes are closed tight, and she appears to be listening intently as the rainwater runs down her face and neck in rivulets and slicks her hair and clothes to her skin.
The thunder isn't saying anything, and somehow that makes her feel further from home than any of the rest of this whole outlandish situation.]
May 5
But nope, there was Sonja, standing out there in the rain as if daring a lightning strike to hit her. Lin stood in the doorway to the roof area, framed by the comparatively warm lights from inside, and looked at her incredulously.]
What are you DOING up here!?
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Trying to tell if this is just a storm, or if it's got the proper kind of Thunder.
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[She's at least allowing herself to be distracted, now, though; Sonja doesn't step away from the precipice - not such a precipice, with the railing in the way - but she does open her eyes, and turn back toward the station, and Lin.
Perhaps it hadn't been evident before, without the opportunity for direct comparison, but her large grey eyes are exactly the color of heavy storm clouds.]
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[Lin walked out onto the roof to forcibly drag Sonja's stupid ass in, but stopped when she got a little closer. Those eyes...they looked like they belonged here.]
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Alright.
[She sighs, shaking her head - defeat, or simply trying to clear the ringing - and starts picking her way across the expanse of slick dark glass rooftop to meet Lin partway.]
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...You didn't find what you were looking for, did you?
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[Her shoulders fall, just a little, under Lin's arm.]
You've never heard what the thunder said, have you?
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[Aaaaand back inside.]
You okay?
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It starts in dreams, in the Neath, but I'd long since learned the languages to listen in to hear it in the waking world, too. If there'd been anything of the Correspondence in that storm, I'd have been able to hear it.
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I'm sorry the storm didn't...correspond with you?
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Stone pigs, huh?
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[By now, Lin has led them to the laundry room. She handed Sonja a towel.]
Here. Even if you didn't get struck by lightning, you still might catch a cold.
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She pauses, looking out from under the towel still half-draped over he head, and smiles sheepishly.] You really are being tremendously kind. I'm sorry if I worried you.
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[She paused for just a moment at the casual contact, but didn't otherwise react to it.]
Anyways if you get sick than other people might start getting sick and it would just be a huge bother for everyone.
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[Lin beamed at her for a moment, before backing out of the room to go back to what she had been doing before Sonja had caught her attention.]
May 5th
What does the thunder say, Stormy-Eyed?
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[She sounds... not upset, exactly. Perturbed maybe; unsure. She hesitates a long moment more, half feeling that if she just pushes a little deeper, listens with the right kind of awareness, there will be something there, but...]
It's just air, and water, and heat. I can't hear any intent within it.