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.]

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.]

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.]

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.]

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]

Cara was twitchy.

She was also still sneezing, but after an entire day of pausing every so often to sneeze explosively, that almost went without saying at this point. It only added to her general air of twitchiness, though. Her skin felt too hot and too tight, and she didn't-quite-itched down to her bones as she stalked from one corner of the room to the other in bursts of nervous energy.

Someone was not a happy camper.

[OOC: post open, door cracked, Mord'Sith sneezing]

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]

Cara had been in a restless mood the night before, and as a result had worked herself until she was so tired that she'd only bothered removing her gloves and boots before curling up to sleep.

She woke to ill-fitting leathers that were loose and bunched in the very few places they weren't painfully tight and constricting. Hurriedly tugging at the laces, it wasn't until she'd finished peeling out of them, that she noticed that the problem wasn't with her leathers.

For starters, her breasts were missing.

She ran too large hands over her newly flat chest to confirm her eyes weren't playing tricks with her. This was a problem for a number of reasons, not least of which being that she was rather fond of them. Another reason made itself clear when her hands drifted lower, and she swore. Loudly.

[ooc: door closed, post open]

After a solid month of nearly unbroken repression, numbness and apathy it should have been a good sign that Cara actually felt something when she woke up this morning, but when that something was utter mortification with a good dash of confusion thrown in, she couldn't get back to pushing things back down into emotional white noise fast enough.

A bank. She thought she was a bank. She'd developed a random accent, tried to convince people to invest in her, and she was quite sure she'd been mistaken for a whore. More than once. Though at least she'd had the presence of mind to kick Nathan in the gut.

Even if she should have aimed lower.

[ooc: establishy]

It wasn't that Cara hadn't moved since finishing radio last Friday, she just hadn't moved more than strictly necessary. Some detached part of her recognised that this behaviour, every Mord'Sith temple had prisoners who'd been pushed too far and too fast, and had shattered instead of breaking, leaving a shell that it would have been a kindness to put down. The rest of her...just didn't care.

Shifting, her gaze fell on her leathers puddled on the floor, scuffed and unpolished, lacings snapped along the forearms, all things she normally wouldn't have left unfixed for minutes, not days. She could, should have picked them up, but simply rolled over so she was facing the blank wall instead.

[ooc: mostly establishy, but open if anyone cares to risk poking a moody mord'sith]