rae_of_sun (
rae_of_sun) wrote in
bigapplesauce2014-09-23 04:38 pm
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She'll teach those hatches! [Open to Multiple]
Well, if there's ever been a reason for Sunshine to start pushing herself in the magic-handling department, the arrival of a mega-toxic kali nightmare goon from wherever-the-hell - and a subsequent text containing a ward symbol against said nightmare goon - definitely qualifies. Gods, has she missed wards. And, okay, she finds it a little hard to fully trust the effectiveness of a ward symbol drawn by… well, anyone aside from an accredited wardsmith (herself included)… but if there's even a slight chance that it'll work, she will gladly wallpaper the entire damn building with the thing.
Better to start small, though, especially if what she's going for is 'permanent.' Which is why she's standing outside her own apartment door with the little image of the symbol pulled up on her phone. She examines the picture with a tight little frown, memorizing the details in case intent is not enough. Then she tucks her phone into the back pocket of her shorts and braces her palms against the door.
Okay. She can do this. It's big - far bigger than anything she's attempted before - but it's only wood. Easy compared to metal or stone. And her grandmother said she could do anything in bright sunlight, and there's plenty of that shining in through the window at the end of the hall, all of two feet to her right. So.
Sunshine shuts her eyes, pictures the ward symbol as clearly as she can, and shoves.
A bolt of power runs down her arms and into her door, the recoil strong enough to force her back a pace. She opens her eyes, regains her balance, and takes in her new door.
At first, she thinks it was a bust; the change is so subtle. But then she realizes that the ward symbol is there, right in the middle of her door and as large as a dinner plate. It's visible only because the grain of the wood abruptly changes direction, like an incredibly fine inlay. She steps closer and runs her fingertips over the line where symbol ends and door begins, but she can't feel a seam.
"Gods," she breathes. Could she darken it? Probably, yes, if she tried again. Make it a bit more obvious, if that's what's needed. A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. It worked. How's that for permanent?
Okay. She'll come back to her own door later. First, she has to do Spike's. And then the main entrances. And then the windowsills.And then literally every other flat surface she can reach.
[ooc: Sunshine is gonna spend the day WARDING ALL THE THINGS, so feel free to have your character run into her in any given hallway, down by the front door, or even up on the roof. Pretty much anywhere in the rebel apartment building is fair game. And hey, she'll probably ward your door if you ask nicely.]
Better to start small, though, especially if what she's going for is 'permanent.' Which is why she's standing outside her own apartment door with the little image of the symbol pulled up on her phone. She examines the picture with a tight little frown, memorizing the details in case intent is not enough. Then she tucks her phone into the back pocket of her shorts and braces her palms against the door.
Okay. She can do this. It's big - far bigger than anything she's attempted before - but it's only wood. Easy compared to metal or stone. And her grandmother said she could do anything in bright sunlight, and there's plenty of that shining in through the window at the end of the hall, all of two feet to her right. So.
Sunshine shuts her eyes, pictures the ward symbol as clearly as she can, and shoves.
A bolt of power runs down her arms and into her door, the recoil strong enough to force her back a pace. She opens her eyes, regains her balance, and takes in her new door.
At first, she thinks it was a bust; the change is so subtle. But then she realizes that the ward symbol is there, right in the middle of her door and as large as a dinner plate. It's visible only because the grain of the wood abruptly changes direction, like an incredibly fine inlay. She steps closer and runs her fingertips over the line where symbol ends and door begins, but she can't feel a seam.
"Gods," she breathes. Could she darken it? Probably, yes, if she tried again. Make it a bit more obvious, if that's what's needed. A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. It worked. How's that for permanent?
Okay. She'll come back to her own door later. First, she has to do Spike's. And then the main entrances. And then the windowsills.
[ooc: Sunshine is gonna spend the day WARDING ALL THE THINGS, so feel free to have your character run into her in any given hallway, down by the front door, or even up on the roof. Pretty much anywhere in the rebel apartment building is fair game. And hey, she'll probably ward your door if you ask nicely.]
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"Have you always been able to do this?" he asks curiously, sensing they are both eager to change the subject. He glances back at the windows. "I thought you could only - transmute, rather than create? Or have I got the mechanics of it wrong?" For all the matter rearrangement he's capable of, 'magic' is still a bit mysterious to him, especially coming from another universe. He peers curiously at her ward, then touches his hand to it. It does seem active. "It's quite impressive," he says in complete sincerity.
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Really, he should already have thought to do this, but if she has the motivation and the new skill to flex, he's happy she's taken it in hand. At the very least now he can offer his assistance.
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But. "Glass is kind of a beast to work with," she admits. "Worse than wood, because it's denser and… stubborn." She's not entirely sure what Aziraphale's angling for, here, but she wouldn't mind some assistance in covering the building if he's up for it.
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… Okay, so she didn't really mean to air that implication. Whoops.
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"I... I'm so sorry," he murmurs, because he has to say something. "I'm glad you could help him."
He feels like an absolute ass, standing here floating vague platitudinous comforts. He wishes he could just give her a hefty dose of divine joy, but one can't simply do that, humans have to have already worked toward it.
But he could give her something.
"Here," he says, and takes her hand perfunctorily. "This doesn't - nothing can possibly make up for what you've been through, apart from time. But this might help you now."
He clasps her hand gently but firmly and gives her a little burst of - well, sunlight, essentially, or rather the feeling of sunlight, the warmth and sensation of standing in it, as she might receive if she went outside at noon. A little boost, for all that she's done today, and all she's done recently.
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She glances up when Aziraphale takes her hand, a little surprised by the gesture… though that's nothing compared to the surprise she feels when he just - what is he even…?! Sunshine's eyebrows shoot up, and she inhales sharply as Aziraphale frigging injects her with sunlight as casually as filling up a tank at the gas station. Her come-hither flares for a moment, bright enough that the golden web is visible even through the fabric of her shirt. At least her hair doesn't stir, though she's worried for a moment that it might. Talk about over the top.
"Wow," she says in a much louder voice than she means to. "Um," she continues at a more reasonable volume, "thank you. I… did not know you could do that."
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"I suppose that might come in handy on a dark day," he says, feeling rather pleased with himself.
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The sigils painted on the door and the windows immediately stick out as a change, and Crowley eyes them speculatively. He'd got the text from Gabriel, but hadn't dared ward his own flat, and he's not actually sure whether they might not keep him out as effectively as the Devil. He recognises some of the devices, and he is, after all, a fallen angel as well, and one of significantly less power. Going through the front door, then, he squints his eyes shut and screws up his nose, like he's preparing to walk into a waterfall.
A tingle, that's all he feels. Vaguely unpleasant and sort of staticky, leaving a residual little itch, but when he opens his eyes, he's inside. He brushes down his shirtfront. Well, there we go. Different universes, different rules, he supposes.
The sigils continue all over the walls as he goes down corridors and up stairs; somebody has certainly been busy.
Who that somebody might be becomes clear when he pushes a door open out of a stairwell, turning into a corridor to see Aziraphale and his baker chum, who is at this moment quite literally luminescent. Crowley pushes up one of his shirtsleeves which had come unrolled, baring a mostly-healed burn from the encounter in the bookshop last week, and leans against a wall. He chooses to announce his presence via a wolf-whistle.
'Nice trick.'
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The cringe-inducting whistle gets her attention, and for half a second she expects it to be Spike. But no, it's just Crowley… who apparently has been demoted to 'just.' Well, after Lucifer, it's hard for even a full-blooded demon to inspire much terror. He might have freaky shadows, but at least he's not nothing but freaky shadows.
Still, that doesn't mean she's delighted to see him, and it's still a somewhat unenthusiastic, "Hey," she throws his way.
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He wants to ask Crowley if he's put any up at his flat, but that might not be a good question. Especially not in front of Sunshine. Who, thankfully, seems less cagey around Crowley than before.
"So what brings you to our neck of the woods?" he asks, doggedly cheerful.
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'Is that your magic?' Aziraphale had given him a fairly useless, handwaving response when Crowley had asked after her abilities, and he is actually quite curious. All this business with multiple universes, there's flavours of humanity here in Manhattan that neither he nor Aziraphale have ever encountered who can (presumably) do all sorts of things the humans they're more used do certainly couldn't. 'Very flash.'
And the wards are her work as well? Crowley nods up up at the window, which does not merely have a symbol painted onto it or anything so simple; the window itself has been altered, the ward worked into it in stained glass. He frowns in approval. 'I noticed; 's good work, actually. Thorough.'
He gives Aziraphale a flat look at his obstinately sunny question, because really, angel? 'Just running errands,' he says vaguely. 'You're looking much more in one piece than you were the other day.'
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"Sort of," she replies in response to his first question, giving Aziraphale a faintly disapproving glance. Just what has he been sharing?
But she can't help but be a bit mollified by the genuine compliment to her wards. Hey, she's proud of them - not to mention ridiculously excited that she can pull them off at all - and the corners of her mouth tick upwards. "Thanks," she says, stepping away from the window so she can turn and examine her work again. "The text did say 'permanent,' so." Doesn't get much more permanent than a proper inlay, she figures.
Her smile vanishes at 'in one piece,' and she gives Aziraphale a worried look. She's been trying not to think too hard about that lingering bruise, or how badly he might have been hurt before he had a day or so to shake it off, but Crowley's comment has made that impossible.
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And then Crowley has to go and make that comment. His smile fades, not completely, but downshifting into a wry shadow of itself.
"I'm all right," he murmurs. He can feel Sunshine's eyes on him, and he glances over at her. "Nothing I couldn't come back from. And I had someone looking after me just as Spike did."
He resists making any direct indication of Crowley, but he smiles a little wider, just for a moment, before redirecting his gaze to the floor. There had been distractions enough at the time, but now that there's some distance from the aftermath of his ill-fated fight, he feels an even greater warmth toward Crowley for the care he'd taken. As much as he knows Crowley doesn't want to hear about it.