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. )

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]

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.

Right now Cara was discovering why consuming most of a bottle of tequila in one sitting was not the best idea, no matter how much emotional anaesthetic you needed.

She rubbed her temples as she waited for her stomach to settle, the throbbing in her hand providing a counterpoint to the one in her head, and avoided looking anything, but especially the wall. She'd get a hanging, or something after classes.

[Closed door, open post.]

Cara was sprawled out across the bed. Alone. And if last night had hardly been the social highlight of her year, it hadn't been unpleasant either.

She still thought that pie fountain was a patently ridiculous idea though.

[Mainly for the kid, whose paternity is NFB please.]

If you were to ask her, and actually managed to get an answer, Cara hadn't had the best of weekends. But it on the whole it had left her feeling not, good exactly, or even better, but steadier. More comfortable in her skin than she'd been in longer than she cared to admit. She'd even managed to get several hours of solid sleep without working herself into exhaustion first a whole two nights in a row.

Which since she'd gotten used to that constant state of tiredness, now left her with energy to burn off. Hence the fact that after finishing her daily exercises, she'd spent the last hour rearranging the furniture, then moving it back again just so she'd have something to do.

[ooc: door closed, post open]

( Inside Cara's head is not always a nice place... )

Cara wasn't really the type to bolt upright when waking after a bad dream. Of course, she didn't usually bodily launch herself off the bed while still half-asleep to land in an ungainly tangle of limbs after not bolting upright either, but somehow she managed that today.

[ooc: for that one guy]

Cara eyed herself in the mirror, tracing her fingertips along the fading yellowing bruising, which was less faded than it had been this morning.

So maybe getting into a brawl before she'd fully healed hadn't been such a great idea, even with the Danger Shop safety protocols. Even if it had made her feel better before the Doctor had started talking.

[Open!]

The advantage of staying holed up in your room over the weekend without even a radio was that you could remain completely unaware of the weirdness Fandom had chosen to inflict upon its residents the day before.

Inversely, the disadvantage of staying holed up in your room over the weekend without even a radio was that you could remain completely unaware of the weirdness Fandom had chosen to inflict upon its residents the day before.

Soon enough Cara would remember just why Mord'Sith didn't subscribe to the view that ignorance was bliss, but right now she was much more interested in curling in closer to the other person in her bed. Purely for warmth. Really.