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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He's not entirely sure what being a boyfriend entails, at least to someone that doesn't kill people in their spare time, but he's assuming just more of what they've been doing up till now. He'll like that, he thinks, even with the inevitable fighting.
Spike's serious expression breaks into a smirk. "So did I get the fanciest ward because you like me the best?" He had noticed, even through his worry, that the work on his door looks almost ornate next to some of the others that she'd done.
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"Well," she says, shifting a bit closer and casually looping her arms around his neck, "I still need to redo mine, so it might not hold the title for long." Honestly, she doesn't plan on doing much to hers aside from darkening it and correcting the bits that aren't quite right, but she doesn't want Spike to get smug.
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Plus, the other reason for fixing it isn't even her fault. "And the picture that got sent out was a bit sloppy, so there are a few little corrections I need to make."
At the moment, though, it doesn't seem too pressing. It's nice and comfortable here, a window of calm between the anxiety their fight had spawned and the probably inevitable 'hey stupid what in the hell are you doing acquiring ANY boyfriend, let alone a vampire lite one' mental backlash. And maybe Spike doesn't have a pulse (which is more noticeable than you might think), but he still breathes normally, and her eyes drift shut to the steady rise and fall of his chest.
"But I'm gonna nap first," she informs him with drowsy dignity. "A power nap. Wake me up in like… twenty minutes. Thirty, tops."
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He doesn't mean to fall asleep. Maybe it's because of the fight, or because she's here with him, but a few minutes after Sunshine falls asleep, he follows.
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You had ONE JOB.Aziraphale's top-off was too recent for Sunshine to really be tired on the magic-handling front, but it's been a difficult few days in general, and that spat in the hallway might have been one too many. So perhaps it's no surprise that she ends up sleeping for a little over an hour before she's hauled back into wakefulness by the vague feeling that she's forgotten something important.
Spike's breathing tells her he's dozed off before she lifts her head and her eyes confirm it. She's a little inclined towards exasperation: either he couldn't stay awake (and okay, he's nocturnal, but come on), or he elected not to wake her… probably out of some lingering belief that she needed more rest than she said she did (again: come on). But her watch tells her it hasn't been much more than an hour. There's still plenty of daylight left.
She watches him sleep for a moment, a little surprised that her moving around, slight as it's been, hasn't been enough to wake him up. Then again, her universe's vampires tend towards insensibility during the daylight hours, so maybe she should be impressed that he's capable of diurnal consciousness at all.
"Hey," she says quietly, giving his chest a pat. "You fell asleep at your post."
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"Must've been tired." He cocks his head to the side and smiles. "And this is cosy."
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He's not lying about it being cosy, either. Intellectually, she knows the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing is just semantics. It doesn't really change anything. Maybe that's why it doesn't feel as weird as she thought it would. Or maybe the weird is saving itself for later.
Fine. The weird can wait. The warding, however, is just a bit more pressing. "If only we didn't have to worry about a frigging monster trying to get into our building," she says, reaching out to brush her fingertips through his hair, neatening (actually neatening) a bit that's gotten mussed just above his temple. Then, she pushes herself up into a sitting position and announces, "I'm gonna ward your window. Do you mind?"
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"Go for it." He pushes himself upright as she wanders over to the window and turns to watch, curious about the process. Still, he'd rather her not do anymore of these at all, at least for the day. She may say that it hasn't made an impact, but she'd managed to sleep for an hour, so it's obviously doing something. "How many more do you have to do?"
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She turns from the window and holds out a hand. "Come here. I want to show you something."
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And it's going to be some very up-close observation, because it's not enough for him to just watch her. She turns back to the window, taking his hand and tugging him over to stand just behind her. "So," she says as she puts his arms around her waist with an almost business-like air, "transmutation is different from healing, because it's not ongoing - it's just a quick burst." Leaning to the side a little, she turns to look up at him. "You know what healing feels like, so now I want you to feel the difference." She gives his arm a reassuring pat, then glances to the window. "Do you have a color preference?"
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The pat to his arm definitely helps. "Red. Is this gonna zap me?"
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Okay. Red. That should be doable. Sunshine lifts her hands to the glass, closes her eyes, pictures the ward, and shoves.
There's a faint shimmer of golden light that ripples down her arms - the come-hither doing its part in Spike's comparatively shadowy apartment - and then the aforementioned recoil pushes her back against Spike's chest, and her eyes fly open. There's the ward, worked into the glass in a rich rose red, and Sunshine lets out a pleased little chuckle. "Ta-da," she says, looking up at him. "See? Easy."
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"Yeah, I see." He loosens his grip, one hand sliding along her waist while the other lifts to reach out and touch the altered glass. It's smooth, like the color is just a natural part of the glass. Really amazing, and impressive for as quickly as it was done. He chuckles. "Easy." It wouldn't be so easy, if it were him trying the same thing.
When he pulls his hand away from the window, he chooses to place it back at Sunshine's waist instead of stepping away entirely. He'd been getting used to the coziness earlier, so it seems a shame to have her run off again so soon. He sighs and leans in to brush a kiss against her jaw. "Thanks."
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... And speaking of things she'd missed. In between healing sessions (which Spike had submitted to with widely varying degrees of grace), they'd spent most of the past two days either asleep or sniping at one another in ill-disguised concern. His current sweetness is more than welcome; enough so that she elects to set aside her to-do list for a bit in favor of giving Nice Spike a little encouragement.
To that end, she slides one of her hands over his with a contented little hum, then turns her head so she can kiss him properly, her other hand reaching up to card through his hair. She pulls back just long enough for an exceedingly polite, "You're welcome," then eases her lips over his once more, languid and teasing.
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He nips at her bottom lip, then pulls away from the kiss to pay attention to that spot on her neck just above the pulse point. "Stay," he breaths out, then leans in to kiss the spot again.
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"You should be recovering," she parrots (in a much more gentle tone than he'd used, thank you very much) before nipping at his ear. "And I'm losing daylight." Both perfectly good excuses (well, okay, the daylight is a good excuse, the recovery one is just obnoxious see-how-you-sound point proving). Good enough to theoretically outweigh that simple request, so it's a little surprising how inclined she is to take him up on it.
Far more surprising is the way that one word sends warmth blooming out from the general area of her diaphragm. Her fingers reflexively tighten their grip on his hair; she has to remind herself not to pinch. Gods. She really, really wants to stay. This is a problem. Probably.