Cara wasn't packing, not really if you asked her. She wasn't really the type to acquire a great many possessions, and she tended to keep anything she didn't want to lose already packed so she could grab them and her weapons without wasting time if there was need. So it should have been easy enough just to leave it at that.

But even without only gathering a minimum of things, she'd been here long enough to collect some, and it turned out there was a middle ground between things that could be easily left without a second thought, and things she needed to keep. Sure she could be ruthlessly pragmatic about what she took, but if she was going to do that... she'd probably have to start taking things out of the pack as well.

[Door and post open.]

Occasionally, (especially when she was left alone with her thoughts too long) Cara got into moods where she just had to do something, anything, be it starting a fight, other, even more fun physical activities, or, as the case was tonight, rearranging every piece of furniture in her room, then moving it all back to their original places, and starting all over again.

She might be at it a while.

[Open, yo]

It had taken her well, a week, basically, but Cara had finally managed to get every single, solitary speck of glitter off of her leathers. Or rather out of, since it was the glitter on the inside that had been the real problem.

But now that that had been taken care of, she sat cross-legged on the bed, leathers draped over her lap, beeswax and cloth in hand, carefully buffing them to a shine.

[Door cracked. Post open.]

After closing her door, Cara just barely managed to care enough to toe off her (red) boots and pull off her (red) gloves before letting herself collapse on the bed and stare at the ceiling.

That was a week. Even just the confusing parts, let alone where she'd gone along with the completely insane plan, taught a utterly stupid class or done what needed doing.

And of course, that which she would never speak of again.

Even the few genuinely pleasant memories of the week were not actually helping right now.

[Open.]

This weather. This. Weather.

Just when Cara had thought the heat had abated enough she could go back to wearing her leathers, she'd managed to get just far enough in the open to be completely devoid of cover when a brief, yet violent, thunderstorm had passed. Naturally, naturally, she'd gotten soaked though to the skin, and while her leathers could stand up to a lot of punishment, she didn't trust the heat to be dry enough not to cause problems while they dried.

So she was back in her room, back in these flimsy 'normal' clothes, and arranging her leathers so they'd dry as quickly as possible. Not at all happy about it.

[Door and post open.]

Cara sat cross legged on her bed, leathers draped across the covers. Usually she wore Richard's shirt when she cleaned them, but she also usually didn't have an impressive collection of half-healed bruises either.

This latter part had a lot to do with the fact she was instead wearing the softer, lighter clothing she'd acquired during spring break for the first time since then, just not for the reasons most people in her condition might have chosen to. Because that would have required using normal people logic instead of Cara logic.

[Cracked door, open post.]

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.]

After the first week of post-break classes, Cara was looking forward to a nice quiet night in.

Sadly, her player Fandom had other plans for her. Furrier plans. Adorable plans.

Chittering furiously, Cara eventually emerged from the pile of her leathers in a tiny, fuzzy ball of chipmunkly annoyance.

Great. Not again.

[ooc: establishy]

By now, Cara was just about ready to climb the walls.

Nothing worked. Not running herself ragged, not punching things, not (failing at) meditation. Nothing Cara tried (by herself) was burning off this twitchiness and excess energy.

Which is how she came to be standing in the shower with the hot water off and the cold turned up full bore.

Naturally, naturally, it turned out that Mord'Sith endurance and spending a year getting accustomed to bathing in rivers and streams? Did. Not. Help. This. Plan.

Though at least the running water seemed to have put a stop to that damned sneezing for the moment.

[OOC: Dor closed, post open.]