girl, you made the right mistake

[hairpine]

[Hello London, it's been a while. Valentine's Day approaches at a breakneck speed. Do you know where your children are?

One Michielaine can actually just be found at her usual cafe, working diligently at her homework. Sorta. Kinda. As diligently as she ever does, I mean.

But on the other side of town, making her way through the back alleyways, is a young lady who some may recognize as Margaret. Whether this is for the best or not is sort of up in the air, considering she is, for some reason or another, covered in blood. But she goes through the alleys at a leisurely pace -- less concerned with getting caught and more with scaring someone.

Not that she's all that concerned with that either.

Alternately, there's just some redheaded gent leaving a local bookstore with a rather large stack. All the titles are obscured.]

Comments

Marge

[leviathaned]

...[I was coming home and what is this.] ...Is this something I should be worried about?

[presages]

[Stares up at him for a good four or five seconds, completely quiet. Obviously, he can't see, but he might get the impression she's not blinking.]

No.

[leviathaned]

Alright.

[Looking her up and down.] You may need new clothes, though...[Blood stains like a motherfucker.]

[presages]

All right.

[Puts her coat down gently, in a heap -- don't ask what the lumps are -- and starts to strip down. Like she cares, man.]

[leviathaned]

...No, no. You know what, hold on.

[He just...sighs, and she probably sees his eyes mist over a bit, maybe feels a slight tug as the world shifts, imperceptibly--

And her clothes are pristine. Just like new.]

[presages]

[She stops mid-disrobe when she notices his eyes, and then -]

... Magic?

[leviathaned]

...Not quite, but close enough.

[virinosa]

[Hey guess who you just ran into michipapa?

if you guessed 'a tiny unassuming-looking irish kid', you're...actually kind of frightening, but also right!]

Uwaah...!

[selfreleasing]

[He very nearly drops his books at the impact, but no. He's good. And so, he is much more concerned with the tiny filthy little boy he just ran into.]

... Pardon me, very sorry. Didn't knock you over, did I?

[virinosa]

[Hey he's actually surprisingly clean all things considered. His accent is slipping into serious Belfast, though.]

Ah, don't y'worry about it. 'm actually pretty durable.

[selfreleasing]

[Yeah but who let you dress yourself where the hell are your parents --]

... Irish?

[virinosa]

Last time I checked, yes...? [His accent is rapidly vanishing, and he looks a little wary, but who could blame him.

Also he's eighteen and his parents are deaaaaaaad.]

[selfreleasing]

Calm down, it's no problem. Mum's folks had some Irish -- all of us, we're all from the same place, when you get down to it.

Are you free?

[virinosa]

[While we're in timeywimey, Michi guess who's reading your homework over your shoulder?]

[hairpine]

[It's math! Statistics specifically, so nothing mindbendingly difficult, she just hates homework.

That said, she doesn't notice!]

[virinosa]

[Well, that means he can lean a wee bit closer than is at all proper to murmur.]

You need to carry the one, dove.

[hairpine]

[She jumps a good few inches and shrieks. Some people turn their heads, but no one actually comes to look -- why would they, she's fucking nuts, of course she's just going to scream over nothing.]

[virinosa]

[my delicate maidenly eardrums.]

Aaaah, ahh...i...it's okay, Miss, it's just me...

[hairpine]

Oh... oh! Mr Liam! Good day! Are you well? I apologise, it was not my intent to frighten you!

Poor Margaret--wait no

[birdenesque]

[She gets a wonderful time wandering around the back alleys and being creepy. It lasts a while! Until she gets plastered out of nowhere from a girl dropping from above. Probably jumped off of an upper floor. Or the roof. Or she's been following and came out now. Either way, it can be filed as "ooh impressive" that someone with a skirt and stiletto boots jumped from that high and landed unharmed.

Her hair is a wild bird's nest and her smile is sunshine and Margaret has a Russian girl plastering her personal space.] Was it a human? Is there any left? Where is it?! Tell me!

[The sparkly eyes here mean 'pleeeaaaase'.]

[presages]

[She doesn't seem very surprised -- well, it's hard to tell with the glasses on anyway -- and just. Slowly, slowly, slowly turns her head. Birdlike.

She smiles back.]

Um . . .

[You already know how that noise works, so I'll spare you.]

It was four. I just wanted the hearts . . . so I left the rest.

Do you want it . . . ?

[birdenesque]

[While Margaret is the slow, grating birds, Yulia is a perfect crow. Force of nature, quick and stuttered movements, easily distracted by shinies.

Right now it's that last one. She snaps back up into a standing position on the spot, hands wrung together and bouncing on her toes.] Yes! Yes! Yes! I do! Me! Can I have them? You're not eating them, so are they mine?

[presages]

[She is, amusingly enough, a magpie -- the slowness, mentally and physically, is just an affectation.

Or she's thinking so fast it impedes her ability to actually talk and act like a normal person. You choose!]

They're presents . . . the humans like them. Hearts . . .

. . . they're affectionate . . . and these humans are nice.

. . . To me. So . . .

. . . But I only need the hearts. You can eat the rest.

[birdenesque]

[A magpie and an Old One walk into a bar... But either way, Yulia's energy may as well be contagious. Just wait Margaret, she'll turn you into a spastic firecracker soon enough.]

Yes! I need to get one for my friend. But wasting bodies is wrong! Throwing out food is a sin! So I'll take them. Okay? Okay?!

[Bounce bounce bounce where are they where are they she will sprint the moment she points a direction.]

[presages]

Okay.

[POINTING IN A DIRECTION!!]

I left them in a row over there . . .