Vin

[scrapdraught]

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WEEK 0: First Saturday

[scrapdraught]

[She's hopped over to the little island in the swamp, investigating the little door carved into the tree.

And like clockwork, one of their infinite teen girls starts skirting the perimeter. Camille pulls away, squinting at her from the across the feral green algae.]

Hey. Can you give me a hand over here?

[allomantic]

[watching her carefully - she hasn't changed yet, so she's still in the white robes, though she's torn off both sleeves. that makes it clear one of her shoulders is wrapped in a makeshift bandage made with fabric from the outfit.]

What are you attempting?

[scrapdraught]

I want to see if this door comes open. Barring that, pick around the tree a little.

[Camille's eyes skate over the bare arms.]

Like what you've done with it. Seems a little less tacky that way.

WEEK 0: Monday

[scrapdraught]

[I've decided you're getting a PC today, accept me!!!

Anyway Camille is at the pyre late at night, sat hugging her knees like a gangly teen and staring down the flickering flames. Her eyes blink slow, but despite the hour she just won't leave.

Her eyes drift to Vin once she catches movement.]

Shouldn't you be asleep?

[allomantic]

[i will always accept you

she glances towards camille, a little bit puzzled. there's some writing on her arm that says the collapse.]

Why do you say that?

w0, sunday

[allomantic]

[bad!!

a while after all that, she's near the pyre, reading over the new rules with a frown.]

...This will happen again, then.

[scrapdraught]

Fuck.

[Camille grits her teeth in a sour grin, shaking her head.]

And of course it's up to us to fix everything. All while waiting out our own personal doomsday.

WEEK 3: Monday

[scrapdraught]

[Throws them in the void.

Vin's been one Camille's not sure how to approach. They weren't close to begin with. Barely spoke. Her strongest impression of the girl is the flash of her steel cutting into Nona. No warning, no preamble. Decisive and quick. It's honestly respectable.

Now it's a daydream on repeat. Mercy might be her best shot. Still, she'd like to know when it's coming. Not have it thrust upon her, unnannounced.

She meets the girl midday Monday, just passing through on the way to other things.]

Oh. [Camille slows. Stops. Pretends like she isn't going stiff at the shoulders, and mostly fails.] Hello, Vin.

[allomantic]

Hello.

[when she notices her tensing up, she breathes a little sigh, but quickly enough:]

I'm not going to hurt you.

w4, tuesday

[allomantic]

[haha

she's hanging out wherever - she's been giving camille as much space as she wants, but she doesn't move to leave when she sees her approaching.]

...I imagine you have a few things to say.

[scrapdraught]

[Camille clicks her tongue. Nods, more resigned than attentive or agreeable.]

Frankly, I can't decide if I have too much to say or nothing at all.

I don't really have precedence for this kind of thing. "Miracles."

[Especially not when they're used on me.]

w5, thursday

[allomantic]

[hi hello it's thursday morning and she's glancing over at camille wherever she sees her]

Ah - hello.

[scrapdraught]

Morning.

[Nods to her. She has a mug of...something. And a bland refectory snack. She'll go get better food later.]

Feeling refreshed?

w5, friday

[allomantic]

[sets this pre healing because i haven't gotten results back yet

she's on her way to the swamp, covered in blood with a bunch of glass shards poking out of her. she glances at camille.]

...Hello.

[scrapdraught]

[SCREAMS OKAY WELL that makes this worse for several reasons

Fresh off the horror of seeing a veil go up at the pyre and three new posters tacked on the board, Camille sees Vin coming in looking like a horror show. The vibes are immediate distress. Horror. Fear.]

What happened?

WEEK 5: Saturday

[scrapdraught]

[She's out of cigarettes. So, she's on her way back to Elysium, drained and miserable. A bottle of half-gone whisky hangs from her hand, though there isn't any on her breath yet.

She spies Vin before she makes it, stopping in her tracks. The emotions are all abject misery, but she'll still be polite.]

Hey. You feeling any better tonight?

[She seemed pretty tender at trial today.]

[allomantic]

In what way?

[physically or emotionally, she means. either way, as she tries not to stare at the whiskey:]

...What about you?

WEEK 6: Monday

[scrapdraught]

[Puts them in the lab.]

More of this, huh? Creepy labs are getting to be a theme.

[allomantic]

[nodding, with a frown.]

We didn't have anything like this where I'm from.

[she's too fantasy victorian for this.]

w6, thursday

[allomantic]

[screams

anyways she's waiting at the swamp! how does camille seem when she comes out...]

[scrapdraught]

[BRILLIANT! because she is glowing.]

God... [She crawls out, spitting up water and looking utterly miserable. But thankfully so much of the burns are gone? The hand has not returned though.]

How long was I in there?

WEEK 7: Wednesday

[scrapdraught]

[rngs a spooky greenhouse for you. Camille picks a few blueberries off a plant, rolling them over in her palm.]

Are these safe to eat?

[allomantic]

I think so. If they aren't, I haven't heard about it.

[after a moment:]

How do you feel?

w7, saturday

[allomantic]

[giving her a wave, wherever they are.]

...What's next, for you?

[scrapdraught]

Lord, what a question.

[Predictably, she's out in open air with a smoke in hand. Camille shakes her head.]

Honestly? I can't wait to be somewhere where magic doesn't exist again. That's the bare minimum. Everything after has got to be manageable.

What about you?