After her class had finished, Cara stayed at the Onsen, hoping a good long soak would do something, anything for the tension that'd been making her twitchy her up since she'd woken sweaty and panting for breath (and not in a fun way) that morning. Gradually she relaxed enough to let her eyes drift shut.

Some time later, she heard the faint splash of another person lowering themselves into the water, then a hand gently stroked along her cheek. "That better be who I think it is," she drawled, not bothering to open her eyes, because first, she missed her girlfriend, and second, almost anyone else doing that uninvited was going to lose the hand.

( Nope. )

That luggage had finally disappeared around midnight, but by then, Cara's mood was so shot that she was looking at a sleepness night.

It didn't help when in the middle of the night, she suddenly started hearing noises in the living area. She padded out, agiel in hand, only to find the television on and a group of guilty looking squirrels on the couch with the remote.

...chitter?

"It's not my birthday," she said flatly. "And when was I supposed to have registered this account?"

As a group, the squirrels pulled away from one of their number.

Cara sighed and sat down on the couch, picking up the remote, because there was no way she was getting back to bed now. "Leroy, do you want to end up like Tino?"

[Establishy, but can be open if you got a reason to be around or call.]

So. After spending nearly an entire day either brawling with Kahlan's blonde double or fending off her advances, Cara had finally made it back this fake version of the island just in time to hear Zinyak's second announcement. Very shortly thereafter, she felt a familiar sting when resting a hand on her agiels.

( Needless to say, she wasn't in the main simulation very long. )

[open, if you don't mind some SP]

So Cara and Atton's 'beat up the aliens' plan did not go as anticipated, and now she found herself blinking awake.

Handcuffed to a wooden chair.

( In which Cara is creeped upon by an evil, gay Bridget Regan )

[Oh, like I wasn't going to do this to her.]

Cara's bed was at that perfect sweet spot between soft and firm, warm but not uncomfortably so, and she couldn't recall the sheets ever feeling more luxurious against her skin as she sprawled out along the mattress. Which of course was the problem, as there should have been far less sprawling and far more curling up against another warm body. Still half asleep, she patted along the empty half of the mattress, her frown deepening when she found it far too smooth and devoid of lingering body heat. She couldn't hear running water from the bathroom, or things being moved in the kitchen, and if she'd had to leave in a hurry, Surreal should at least have woken her first.

"Surreal?" she called out, just in case someone thought she was being funny again. As she sat up, her hand automatically fell on the agiel she kept within arms reach of the bed, its handle still and silent under her palm.

Fear curdled Cara's gut and ice ran up her spine as she stared down, her grip now white-knuckled, searching for any sign of the dark veins of magic that should have been spreading under and along her skin. Of the familiar pain that came with the agiel's touch, there wasn't even a dull, muffled echo, instead it was lifeless, just like when Richard had... "Surreal?"

[Open to anyone who might have any reason to be around]

The thing about not being able to cook bake worth a damn, was that when you got a craving for the nutcakes your girlfriend liked and there weren't any left, you had to go out and buy them. Naturally, there'd also been a sudden glut of customers, so she'd had to wait even longer, since she wasn't allowed to scare them off if she wanted to actually get served.

Still, she'd gotten what she'd gone out for, and now Cara was triumphantly closing the apartment door behind her, content in the knowledge she likely wouldn't have to deal with any more idiots in the near future.

[For she who knows who she is]

Chaperoning that dance last night had been a waste of her time in Cara's opinion, but given she hadn't been expected to do anything but watch, she was willing to concede it hadn't been entirely terrible. Now, having spend the day without any unwelcome interruptions, she sat sprawled out on the couch, flicking idly thorough take-out menus.

[For she that knows who she is]

Cara had had no interest in going on the camping trip, because frankly, choosing to go out into the wilderness without any of the luxuries they had in this place for fun was mad. Richard would probably love the idea.

Still, she could appreciate the impulse to get off the island, and when Surreal had shown up unexpectedly, she'd wasted very little time dragging her off deciding they needed to go on a trip of their own. Only she'd picked somewhere with running water, and beds, and electricity, and walls.

She looked around the rooms they'd gotten. "The view's pretty." Someone was never going to make it as a hotel critic.

[For she who is with her.]

Of all of Cara's favourite days of the year, today was most definitively not one of them, even without the added joy of sneezing every few minutes while wanting to all but tear her skin off.

Thankfully, with the power back on, she'd been able to take an extremely cold shower without worrying about freezing to death afterwards. Not that the icy spray had done much to soothe the heat and twitchiness under her skin, but at least it'd damped down the air enough that she hadn't sneezed in a full quarter hour.

Then she'd opened her door to find flowers outside it.

The yellow ones had gone out onto the balcony where they couldn't harm anyone in the time it'd taken to read the attached note, the roses on the other hand...

Letting out a (metaphorical) breath she wasn't sure hole long she'd been holding, Cara stomped into the kitchen to find a jug large enough to hold them, stomped over to the sink to fill it, then, glaring, carefully placed the flowers in it and put the whole thing down on the bench, before retreating over to the couch, the card still in her hands.

She was sneezing again. Well, it'd been nice while it lasted.

[Establishy, unless you have a reason to poke the grumpy. Not dirty.]

It figured that this would happen again, Cara wasn't even surprised by this point, and as a testament to how much she'd matured since the last time, she was reacting to it in exactly the same manner.

So she sat on her apartment floor, knife in hand, surrounded by ever growing piles of scraps of leather and fabric, resolutely pretending not to read the labels. Having reduced the entire matched set that had been 'Self-Worth Issues' to unrecognizably, along with such gems as 'Discarded Inconvenience', 'Fundamentally Unlovable', and 'Deserves To Be Alone', she reached for the next one.

She started stabbing 'Everyone You Love Leaves, Betrays You, Or Dies, It's Probably You' with even more viciousness than the first time it'd appeared today.