driftfleet | Libuscha IV System Mingle (no. 1)

[The further he gets, the worse she looks, until the immolated puppy bit is on point. She's waiting for the inevitable rejection, distantly wondering if there's some way to remove her own memories, because if he no longer wants her around she doesn't know how to deal with that. Maybe make a deal with the Atroma. Cut her own heart out and try not to die or lose control.

But then he finishes, and he accepts it for now, and the relief that crosses her expression is measurable, though her tense posture isn't gone, not yet. She's been allowed back in, but... but there's one more thing she has to do. One more thing to let go of. She's not so sure that doing his nails is going to be a fitting moment for it, and she can't bear to hold it that long.

Tentatively she smiles, casting her gaze across the ruined nails.]

You did a number on them, yikes, sorry for that too. Um… maybe this will sweeten the pot.

[She loosens her grip on the canvas, glancing down at it.]

The tree gave me this, but… it isn't mine. Not anymore.

[And then, taking a deep breath, she unwraps the Umbra Staff. His Umbra Staff, peppered with stars and bangles that she'd never seen until the tree because she'd only had an inside perspective of it for the last decade. Decor that she didn't give it.

Quietly, she holds it out towards him.]

[Since she's finally revealing it, he zeroes in on the package, ears perked in curiosity. This thing was what caused her to spiral into a depressive drunk fit, so it has to be something interesting, right? Or dangerous. Or dumb. He never really knows with Lup anymore these days.

Her explanation does little to explain anything, but the moment the wrapping come off, his eyes widen. It's his focus - the Umbra Staff, all decked out in the same way he'd left it back at home, all the stars and bangles and little runes showing the people he's defeated on its handle just as he remembers it. And then he realizes that it was hers at some point and feels an immediate recoil form in his stomach even as his hands itch to take the handle from her. It was hers and one of their first encounters was her buying up a bunch of umbrellas and torching them into oblivion. Whatever the reason, she hates her creation now enough to make her bitter and angry when she got it back.

It couldn't be the decor he added because that shit was tight and he had a very good sense for accessorizing. And she's handing it over, just like that, one of the best focuses he's ever had in his life. It's saved him quite a few times already and having it with him would make him feel safer, but...

Taako peels his eyes from the umbrella, realizing he's been staring at it in dumb shock, and raises them to her face. He can't read that expression, the small smile and the relief mixed with whatever the Umbra Staff evokes in her.]

I mean, I'll take it if you don't want it, but uh... Is it gonna cause a problem? Me using it while you're, you know, the actual owner? Right there? This thing's kinda got a mind of its own sometimes. I don't want it to murder me 'cause it wants to pull a Dorothy and go home.

[Her smile falters, just for a moment, her gaze darting down towards it before quickly averting back to his, and beneath all the makeup she suddenly looks... so tired. Keeping it had been a thought that could only be described as fleeting at best, a momentary pining for the good old days, when life was harder but made a whole lot more sense to all of them, when what they had to worry about was finding the light, escaping the Hunger, getting stronger, building bonds. Almost a decade she'd wielded this as her focus, and then for a decade she'd become it and very nearly lost herself. She still has dreams of those days, when she lets herself sleep, of drowning in a sea of black curtains, of tearing at fabric in impotent rage while Taako suffered just outside of her reach. She wakes up with the sheets kicked off the bed, a strangled shout caught in her throat, her voice stolen by the staff as much as the rest of her had been.

Even if she kept it, she could never use it again. She spends enough hours on her own that she could never feel safe with it at her side. And more than anything else, if she kept it, if she wielded it around Taako? It wouldn't feel right. She'd feel like she stole it from him, and maybe he'd feel that way too, if not at first then over time. In truth, all she really wants is to snap it over her knee and let it burn until even the dust of its remains are gone, just like those umbrellas she bought from space Costco last month.

It would be such a waste.

She shakes her head, finally, stretching her arm so the staff is little closer to him, leaning back so it's a little further from her. She's trying to be subtle about it, but there are cues if he looks for them; it's as if the damn thing is on fire, and she can't let it go fast enough.]

What was causing that is... gone, now. A flaw in the design, when I made it. [It wasn't supposed to be able to eat people.] I promise... it won't do that anymore.

[Her skin is practically crawling from holding it and since Taako's craving it right back, he doesn't hesitate again. He takes the umbrella from her, checking it over to make sure it's just as he actually remembers it - nothing new added or nothing taken away. That little crack in one of the stars? The one he spent time gluing back together rather than wasting a spell slot on Mend? Yeah, still there. The slight discolorations from being blown up and eaten by a purple worm? Yup, still there too. Nothing new that he can sense which means she hasn't gone and booby-trapped it either.]

One hell of a flaw. It saved my neck a few times, almost blew up two people a couple others - all in all, not so bad on the odds.

[Kind of sad to hear that was gone, actually. He might not have minded it jumping back into his hands or firing off a Scorching Ray when he was threatened.]

Oh, also?

[He finally looks up from his inspections, eyeing her flatly.]

You look like hell. No, I've seen hell and it's a big boring box. You look like you got pummeled and then threw up like seventeen times in the snow. Nice threads though.

[Just a little teasing - he can't accept what is essentially a gift unless he teases some in return.]

[The moment he takes it, it's as if a weight's been yanked right off of her shoulders. There's still plenty of lingering stress - that shit doesn't vanish immediately and as he said, she does look like hell even with the makeup and cleanup. She's on edge as she watches him examine it, but her eyes are on the umbrella rather than him, so the cause of her malcontent is still obvious. This... is going to take some getting used to. Seeing it. Seeing him with it. A wizard never goes far without their focus, so he'll just... have it now. She has to learn to live with it.

It's something she'd been resigned to the moment she decided to give it to him, though, so this isn't a surprise to her. She can manage. It takes her a few seconds, but somehow she drags her gaze away from the Umbra Staff and back at him, some of the tension breaking as she smiles again. It's not on par with how she usually smiles at him, but it's real, and it's a step in the right direction.]

It might've been seventeen. I lost count after three. Managed to do it at least once on some prick who tried to drag me home with him, though, so I call that a win.

I literally told you not to die in the snow, goofus. That doesn't mean you don't try to get as close as possible anyway.

[With his inspection finished, he swings it up to rest on his shoulder like he used to. It feels right to have it back at his side again, but he'll have to reattune to it now. He can tell that it's out of whack somehow now that he has it in his possession again. What a pain in the ass.

He might also not carry it around as much as he used to. There's not a lot of danger here and, well....the way Lup looks at the staff is like she's haunted by it. This might be a "when I think shit will hit the fan" type of dealio. For now though, he wants its familiar weight on his shoulder, where it makes him feel safe. It's a tether back to his world, to the people he left behind, a reminder of what he needs to finish on the Iskaulit so they can all get back to them.]

Good on you for aiming it right at least one of the times. I hope you ruined his night.

I definitely ruined his shoes. Oh shit, speaking of which- I met this guy in a park later who had the most amaaaaazing boots. I wanna stake out the place one day before we leave here, see if I can track him down and find out where he got 'em.

[She gestures forward, trying to shoo him back into the room so she can join him. She has nails to do, after all. And maybe once he puts the umbrella down she'll start to feel a bit more normal again.]

Do you even remember where it was, drunkie?

[He hesitates when she shoos him backward. It's not the first time Lup's been in his room. The fact that pieces of his closet go missing periodically at around the same time she shows up in them is evidence of that. He's known she comes in and out in the same way he's been stealing onto the Heron to liberate certain pieces of her closet to a more kind and loving home before. It's just the first time he's ever been in here while she was actually here.

This was his one space on the Fleet that was his. He didn't care about cleaning or keeping a unified aesthetic in here. It was a mess on the best of days (save for his closet, which was always neat), but after the last few he'd taken to stuffing it full of stuff. Things to fill the gaps that made him feel better. They were everywhere and there wasn't exactly a lot of sitting space. He glances back at the room, then at her and tosses a Mage Hand over his shoulder to clear more of a spot off the bed, dumping some pillows and mismatched chess pieces to the ground.]

And don't shoo me in my own home, nerd.

[Then he steps back and throws himself unceremoniously where he'd been before, deep into the pillow mountain that had overtaken where most normal people slept.]

If you can remember where it is and it isn't cold, maybe I'll go with you. How amazing these boots are need to be studied for science.

[She half-expected him to refuse, maybe fetch the nail polish and walk them to the kitchen or somewhere more open and less... personal. This, in a sense, is another way he's showing her that she might be forgiven one day. Whatever his reason, she'll take it without complaint.

She follows him in, nudging the door with her foot so that it's not quite shut, but also not leaving them open for any passerby to invade, either. He can decide for himself what he'll be happy with- that's what Mage Hand is for. It's true that space isn't plentiful - mostly thanks to the grand disaster in his room that she'd honestly come to expect over the years - so she sits herself down on the bed near his hand, reaching out for the polish remover and a dabber sponge.]

I actually don't remember what they looked like? But I wrote down that I saw them, and the guy was definitely real. I'm kinda hype for the inevitable surprise when I see them again.

[From his place on the pillow fort, he uses Mage Hand not to mess with the door, but to put the Umbra Staff on the shelf over his bed. Within easy reach if he needs it, but out of her direct line of sight. She might say that whatever caused the staff to act on its own is gone, but if it came down to a contest of wills over it, he's not sure he could beat her. She's got levels upon levels of power over him, and she's the staff's creator - even if she loathes the thing now. You always leave a piece of yourself behind in whatever you make, whether it's a hugely powerful focus or a croissant.

Fucking piece of wisdom right there. Too bad only his internal monologue heard it.]

Well then how can we trust that you were even lucid enough to know what was awesome when you were drunk?

[And wrote down?]

...Were you chronicling your drunkenness?

[She snorts out a laugh, reaching out to take his hand so she can start cleaning up the mess he'd made of his nails. Thankfully a solid two days of rest and rumination had healed up the glass cut she'd given herself during her binge, so the alcohol doesn't bother her any.

And having the Umbra Staff out of sight helps. It... helps a lot, actually. She focuses on his nails and tries to forget it's there, too.]

I wasn't! Not exactly. I was trying to text for a ride, but I didn't know where I was. My dashing boot prince wandered along so I got him to send someone my location. I was gawking at his glorious feet while he did it. So he definitely exists! Got the text to prove it, 'cause I sure as hell wasn't sober enough to type properly.

[Gods, he kind of wished he'd been there for her drunken escapades now. Except that he'd been pissed at her during it all and probably would have made it worse. He'd have been in no mood to enjoy the chaos, so he has to make due with listening to it for now. Taako lounges back against the pillows and watches as she cleans up the mess he made.]

Oh, so you were drunk-texting someone. Even better.

[Maybe if he sends a drunk Lup back out there, her shoe prince will come by again.]

What're you gonna do if he changes shoes, huh? He could walk right by you and we'll never know.

If that happens, then I'll know it was never meant to be more than just a fever dream, a bad-end Cinderella who loses both shoes. I'll mourn the loss but alas, my life will go on.

[Removing polish is easy, it's the re-application that can be tricky, so once she finishes one hand she reaches over to clean the other first, dabbing the alcohol on so it soaks in. They must have done this thousands of times for one another, so it's little more than muscle memory at this point, following the precise curves of his nails, lightly supporting each delicate finger.]

[He snorts at that and rolls his eyes. Cinderella hadn't exactly been so drunk she lost her shoe, but sure, he'll let Lup draw that parallel for now. She's surprisingly good at handling his nails at least, which eases a little of the tension from his shoulders. He figured she would be, even if she wasn't exactly rocking nail polish herself all the time, but it's nice to have that confirmation. It's also nice to have something to focus on other than what happened the other day, or the way he wants to take the Umbra Staff planetside and just shoot spells into the sky for no reason.

This is forcing him to be near her, and it's something he has to adjust to again. He'd almost gotten used to the idea that they'd never speak to each other again, when she's shown up. He has to trap himself to keep himself from running again.]

In that case, don't expect me to stand around on a street corner with a bunch of drunks waiting to see whether or not a shoe ghost shows up. Taako's not gonna freeze, no thanks.

You're the one who suggested coming along in the first place, ya dingus. I can just take a photo, if you want to see them so badly. [A beat.] Buuuut that also means you won't be nearby in case I find out where to get them, so you'll miss out on a rad shopping trip.

That was before I knew your plan consisted of "stand on a street corner and pray Istus is kind." It's freezing out there.

[The temptation of a shopping trip is a big one, but he's still wary. She's back in for now, but it's not quite the same yet.]

I'm not going to die of frostbite for shoes that may or may not come. I'll wait in the shuttle.

Fine, fine, leave the girl who nearly froze herself to a park bench to lurk alone in the cold. It's not like you've got spells for that.

[Her tone is teasing though, not about to push her luck with their tentative peace. She knows if she finds this guy she'll be calling up over in a hot minute.

She gives his hands a quick examination, and with a satisfied hum she puts away the cleaner and moves on to the nail polish he'd chosen before their spat ruined it, and goes to work delicately applying a fresh coat.]

Hey, pick a colour, I wanna do mine too.

Not my fault you almost froze yourself. I told you not to do it.

[He barely manages to corral the bitter edge to his voice as he says that. She's teasing, sure, but he's still on pins and needles, ready to emotionally bolt at the first sign things will turn sour again. ]

Besides, fire is more your thing than mine. I'd rather not burn a slot just because someone didn't think of bringing a handwarmer.

[Even if the planet's magic properties meant he could probably burn every spell in his repertoire every day and never run the risk of being tired.]

But what color's your hair turning tomorrow? I think I got one that'll match.

[She opts not to comment on his barb; he knows he's still on edge, and he's not wrong, either, so better not to exacerbate the situation. He can chew on that stick if he likes, if it helps any. And she ought to watch her words more carefully for a while; this is almost like a relapse to their early days, when they first arrived and they were still getting used to each other. She's not looking forward to walking on eggshells again, but it's her own damn fault, so she'll deal with it.

She pauses after finishing one nail to shake her head enough to dangle a loose bit of hair over her shoulder, so she can check the colour. She hadn't given it much thought today so her colours aren't as coordinated - she'd dressed nice for the sake of penitence, but not well, which means checking her clothes won't help her remember the colour like usual. The highlights are a dark blue today, which means...]

...Tomorrow's pink.

[He pulls his hand back and blows on the nail that's finished, careful not to smudge it like he did the last set. Then he slides off the bed and uses his free hand to rummage through the mess of his room. He's pretty sure he grabbed a bunch of bottles out of the.... Yep! Bingo. After tossing aside a few pillows and discarded gifts from the people planetside, he drags a bottle of pink polish with gold swirled inside.

He drops it on the bed next to her and then resumes his original position, flopped over and trying his best to relax.]

That should work then.

[She takes a moment to examine the polish, eyes brightening immediately. He's spot on- it's a great colour for it, and the nice thing about the pink is that it's a more subtle shade, which means it'll go with a lot of things. She sets it aside for now and returns to fixing his nails.]

I dig it, nice choice. It sucks that it'll clash the day after, though... maybe I should consider doing rainbow nails for a while?

[Which... also sounds like a lot of work, which is why she doesn't usually bother - plus all her fire-casting usually causes the enamel to crack - but it has potential.]

You could, but do you think you could maintain it long enough? You don't want them to get ratty looking.

[Taako's careful when he's got polish on and he has to cook - wearing gloves in the kitchen and choosing Prestidigitation rather than washing dishes. He's also meticulous enough to reapply topcoat every other night. He's not so sure Lup would take that time out of her day to do it.]

Or you could go neutral tone, but that's boring. Kinda defeats the purpose of havin' your nails done.

Uuuugh I hate that you're right. Neutral's out, gotta go big or go home.

[She finishes the first hand at his pinky, blowing gently and checking for mistakes, then taps his palm to switch out again.]

[If he wasn't at odds with her again right now, he'd offer to do hers once his set. Maybe he will after he has a little more time to cool down. As it is, he reaches across his body with his other hand, lifting his finished one to inspect her handiwork.

He waits for a moment, then decides to just rip the bandaid of his curiosity off.]

So why do you hate it so much? You created the thing; you'd think seeing it wouldn't send you into a drunken spiral.

[Her hand goes still as she takes his, her fingers tense under his palm. She wrestles with it for a moment, her gaze shifting down and away from him, focusing on the little bottle of polish. He had to ask, didn't he... well, she hadn't exactly been subtle about her feelings. There was also the whole umbrella explosion on that first planet, so she's made her opinion of it pretty damned clear. She doesn't want to ruin the Umbra Staff for him with the whole truth though, since it is an excellent focus for him. Just. Not for her, anymore.

She chooses her words carefully as she responds.]

...You said it yourself- it has a mind of its own. Or had one, anyway. I didn't know it was a problem back then, and I paid for that. It... misfired. Pretty badly.

[She glances over her shoulder at it, briefly, and when she turns back her brow is furrowed, expression conflicted. Not hate, exactly; cautious, yet thoughtful.]

I fixed it, so you're fine, but- y'know. You get it, right?

[Something happened to him to make him stop cooking for other people for a long time. She might not know all the details, but she can read between the lines. Knowing what happened and what you did wrong doesn't make those bad memories go away.]

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im literally only tagging this first bc my colour wheel for her hair is on this computer lmao

lmfao i love it

i over-complicated my own life via character decisions oops

gj u

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