takewing | (no subject)

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[ One moment, you were stepping through a door. The next moment, a wall of heat and bright sunlight slams into you; it's at least 40°C out here, though it's mercifully, blessedly dry. Whenever your eyes adjust, you find yourself standing outside of what looks to be an old shed, overlooking a strange yet picturesque village. The cries and calls of birds fills the air, and across the water people in strange garments are going about their business.

Welcome to Osnova, stranger. ]

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[ just a moment, I thought you mentioned heat

and light

specifically sunlight

will be standing for several moments marvelling at this development despite the fact that staring at the sun is almost certain to guarantee blindness, especially after so long underground ]

You might want to shade your eyes from Her, m'lady.

[ The unfamiliar voice, filled with curiosity and mild, almost amused concern, comes from above and behind. ] She's a little bright to be staring at, if you value your sight.

[ startles only the tiniest bit, though when she shades her eyes and turns, she does so casually enough ]

Her?

[ blinking hard to clear the spots from her eyes, still unable to make out anything more than silhouettes. Her clothing is clearly too heavy for this weather, dark in colour and layered with skirts and petticoats ]

The Old Woman; She who shines brightest.

[ Crouched on the edge of small outcropping, beyond which lies a winding pathway leading up into the hills and mountains. Her cape pools around her, deep red and frayed at the edges, but beneath that her clothes are simple and light. ]

More to the point, I'd also suggest you shed some layers before She climbs much higher.

You mean the Sun?

[ squints, trying to make out details as they slowly come into focus ]

I'm afraid that might prove rather difficult... surely it can't be that bad.

The Sun indeed.

[ Tilts her head, almost bird-like. ]

Have you ever suffered from heatstroke before, m'lady? It's not pleasant. [ Smiles a bit. ] Your health is somewhat more important than your modesty -- if that's your concern.

[ f. frowns... ]

Not entirely... but I suppose it can't be helped.

[ she'll just have to scrounge up the echoes for another gown later. Takes the skirt of her dress and starts methodically tearing the underskirts out of it, a task that takes a deceptive amount of strength ]

Might I ask— where this is?

[ even in Kaito's most wild ravings of a State of Some Confusion, even in her most drunken stupors, no hallucination of the surface had ever been described as so warm, so bright, filled with a sun that beats down like a hammer. And it's too vivid, too sharp and clear to be dismissed as a honey dream... ]

[ . . . YOU COULD HAVE JUST STRIPPED YOU KNOW. Opens her mouth like she's considering saying just that, before closing it again with a snap. ]

Osnova, Pyxis. How do you not know . . . ?

[ The lady's garb wouldn't be so out of place in one of the more industrialised nations, and if she hailed from such a place it's not so much of a surprise that she wouldn't know the name of a backwoods Pyxin border town. But even city-dwelling folk knew better than to wear so many layers -- and if she didn't know where she was, how had she gotten here? ]

[ pauses briefly in her tearing, looking back up at her ]

I've never heard of either such place. Are we very close to England...?

[ surely this must be the surface — what else could it be? — but just how much has it changed while they lived in the Neath... ]

[ Deeply tanned skin, colorful tattoos and deliberate, artistic scars, raven-dark hair cut short and rough; this is clearly no English lady. ]

England? Now there's a name I've not heard before.

[ And with that, she hops down from her rocky perch, landing light and easy on the ground some feet away. ]

Is it a city? It doesn't sound Cephean.

[ WELL. Well. She has her own collection of ink, and short hair isn't completely unheard of among those who openly flout society, but yes, it's becoming increasingly obvious that she just might happen to be in the colonies. Somehow.

Hurries to finish with her skirt, certain that it would be best to have her hands free as soon as possible, just in case ]

It's... a country, rather.

Cephean?

Cephean. Cepheus It's a country of the First Land, just as Pyxis is.

[ The hurry doesn't go unnoticed. But she merely smiles, light and friendly and perfectly relaxed. ]

You must come from somewhere quite foreign, m'lady, to not recognize these names.

[relaxes enough once she's finished with her tearing, folding up the fabric and using it to hike her skirts a little higher. Clearly showing ankle isn't much of a concern in this place, though she can already imagine Kuroba's commentary]

The "First Land"... I must admit this is all rather strange to me, yes.

There's a tavern not too far from here, if you'd like to discuss it more.

Far be it from me to decline.

[to be fair, taverns can be ideal for ambushes, particularly when one is friends with the tavernkeeper or the regulars... but Aoko's confident enough in her ability to scope a location from the door (and to handle multiple burly assailants at once) to accept for now. If things appear to be too much of a challenge she reasons that she can escape into the wilds and survive for at least a few nights]

It's right this way, m'lady.

[ And she promptly turns to head down the path, walking slowly enough that she won't leave her new guest behind. She's never been one to distrust, even a stranger—and just like Aoko, she's confident in her ability to handle herself. ]

My name is Bluebird, by the by. It's a pleasure!

[is keeping up for now despite the heat, though she does squint and occasionally shade her eyes whenever they step directly into the sunlight]

Aoko Nakamori. The pleasure is mine, Miss Bluebird.

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