Limited 3 SIMPLE TRICKS FOR POSTPONING THE APOCALYPSE!

[Katpride]

The Firelight Cafe is a supposedly quaint little coffee shop well within walking distance of Spork’s apartment. It has outdoor seating, free WiFi, and a wide selection of drinks and baked goods. They learn all of this during the walk over; most of it against their will, as they’re just slightly too slow to shut off the screenreader before it starts reading out each and every menu item listed on the cafe’s google maps page.

With Miku in their other ear to keep them from wandering off course, they can feel their hackles starting to rise. The conflicting audio aggravates their already present headache, and although they’re quick to pull the offending earbud from their ear and manually force-quit the program, their temper, already difficult to control at the best of times, is stirred into a fine, foam-like froth by the time they actually reach the place.

So, in a way, it’s actually kind of good that they get there before Freyja. It means they have time to make a detour, popping into the shop next door and cheerfully harrying the clerk into finding them a whiskey that will pair well with their coffee. The light bullying lifts their spirits, and, decidedly against the idea of reflecting on any of their actions, they tuck the little bottle into the tote bag that Mari had shoved into their hands when they left, then wander over to the coffee shop.

It doesn’t take them long to order and claim a table. The weather is relatively mild today, almost bordering on temperate if they stay out of the wind, and so they pick their way out onto the deck, doing their best to lounge without making it too obvious how they’re huddling within the strange, heavy material of the jacket that Mari gave them every time the wind shifts.

At least the breeze is keeping the other, weaker-willed patrons from trying to join them on the deck. If losing feeling in the tips of their ears means that Spork is free to stretch out and modulate the ratio of their drink on their own time, then they’ll take it.

Keeping a quarter of their awareness on Miku’s sporadic updates, they turn most of their attention towards their phone, sipping at their drink and scrolling idly through Tumblr while they wait for their erstwhile coffee companion to crawl out of whatever hole she must’ve fallen in. (They can’t wait to hear that story; it has to be a pretty deep one, for her to be anything other than right on time. Maybe if it’s good enough, they won’t razz her for it.)

Heh. They huff a laugh under their breath, scrolling to the next post with a casual swipe. As if.

Spoiler: OOC

Hi everyone! This is a Limited event, so please ask to join before you post to it!
Also, please wait for Volt to post before hopping in if you do plan to join.
It's gonna be a doozy, but she's gonna be setting up most of the action; this is just to establish the scene :3

 

[HighVoltage]

Freyja hadn’t slept well the night before.

There wasn’t any particular reason for it. Sometimes she just tossed and turned, mind racing a kilometer a second over nothing in particular, replaying the events of the past week or two. Most of the thoughts that lingered in her head were about a certain scruffy bastard, but that was just because they’d been the only interesting thing that had happened to her in that time. That was all.

And so what if Friday morning she rose before the sun and set out for the gym, starting her day far earlier than she had before? That’s just what you did when you couldn’t sleep. Which, again, was happening for no particular reason. Sure, there was the idle thought that wondered if she’d have more luck sleeping if she was sharing a bed with a certain blond, but she was just reflecting on the last time they’d seen each other, that’s all!

That day when they’d made plans, coffee at an as-of-that-moment-undecided location that Spork had texted her about the night before, telling her to pick a spot and send them the address. Any further attempts at conversation had been met with silence, and Freyja had spent the rest of the evening acting completely normally, completing her third workout of the day even as the clock slipped from one day to the other without even a hint of fanfare. Not that she’d noticed.

Freyja was a terrible liar, especially to herself.

Freyja had been running late, something that she was kicking herself for with every step. She could already hear Spork’s chiding tones, their mock disapproval. She’d never hear the end of it. It wasn’t her fault. She’d had to stop by the store and the bank, to get clove cigarettes and quarters, respectively, knowing that if she didn’t they would naturally bring it up and have something else to rib her about. One of the few things she’d learned about Spork was that the less ammunition you gave them, the better.

Freyja stood at the crosswalk, foot tapping impatiently as she waited for the light to change. Just as she was about ready to ignore the robotic voice that kept telling her to wait every three seconds and risk playing in traffic, orange flipped to white and she joined the rush of people seeking to cross the busy street. It wasn’t too far from Firelight Cafe, and Freyja’s gaze instinctively turned to scan for the building’s entrance. She spotted a lone figure on the deck, casually sprawled out and scrolling through their phone. A smile danced across her lips and something in her chest loosened, an unspoken fear of their absence slipping away.

A cold pit formed in her stomach as she felt the sharp pinpricks of talons digging into the back of her neck.

“So, this is the one who’s been taking up your time.”

Crackling sparks and sharpened steel echoed in her mind. Despite the heat behind those talons, Freyja felt her body grow cold. Her legs grew numb, no longer hers to command. She’d stopped in the middle of the crosswalk, the orange sign now blinking out a lazy warning, a countdown that left Freyja feeling sick.

“Such distractions will only keep you from our great work.”

The tattoos along her body burned with a fire she’d never felt before, white-hot agony down her spine, across her shoulders, along her arms. The voice was whispering in her ear, crashing in her mind, growling behind her. Daggers formed under her flesh, pressing against the skin on her shoulder blades, threatening to rip her apart.

“Do not worry. Distractions are natural. You’re only human, after all.”

Freyja felt her hand grow heavy, pale eyes drawn to what had just formed. A sword of twisted black iron rested in her grip, its edge glowing red-hot from the flames that danced along the blade’s length. With ease, her hand spun the blade around until its point was facing behind her. Freyja sickeningly noticed the blackened talons that had replaced her fingernails; the same talons that were still dangerously pressed against the nape of her neck.

A chorus of horns emerged from the traffic that was now behind her as Freyja’s body turned to face the meeting spot she’d arranged, where she’d told Spork to be. Even over the clamor of man and metal beast shouting, the voice was still crystal clear.

“I, however, am not.”

A wordless scream ripped from Freyja’s throat and tore through her lips as the blade was smoothly brought up, the flames burning brighter even as they began to crawl under her skin. With the roar of an inferno, she slammed the blade into the asphalt. It sunk in to the hilt, fire erupting around her. The ground cracked, gouts of flame ripping through the earth, cars, and man, whatever stood in its way as it raced towards its target. The fiery pillars collided with the building, shattering its flimsy walls and tearing a gash through it.

Curtains of flame parted as Veljara rose, smoothly drawing the blade from its earthen sheath. They settled behind her, a cape of sparks and ash that shifted and settled into a solid mass as Veljara stretched her wings for the first time. Each was nearly as long as she was tall, and she took a moment to appreciate their weight, their delicate motions, how they shifted her balance, before she let them fall back into a resting position.

She surveyed the initial carnage, a tinge of approval on her lips, before stalking forward. Her fiery gaze lingered on the blackened slash that her flames had cut through the shop itself. Interesting.

It appeared as though Freyja had managed to wrest some control back in her final moments. She’d been aiming for the exterior, where the lone figure had been sitting, but it appeared her attack had been shifted just enough to spare them the full force of her wrath.

No matter. Veljara let the sword fall, its blackened blade twisting into flame as soon as it hit the ground. In its wake she pulled forth a spear, its head crooked and glowing with a fiery light. She shifted in her path, now heading towards the ruins of the deck.

She had a dog to put down.