In this particular corner of the park, on this particular morning, the air was cool, crisp and still. Not that that last one was true for very long as first a breeze, then a wind picked up, scattering leaves in its wake.

The source of this sudden meteorological change was not a mystery for very long. A shining, shimmering portal appeared, hanging in the air as a red-clad figure didn't so much tumble out as was flung from it with great force.

Then, as soon as it had appeared, the portal closed, and was gone.

[For one.]

All Cara had wanted was a nice hot shower with the water turned up full bore. So naturally, today was the day the shower had decided to start pelting her with colourful pebbles instead.

And of course the taps had suffered the same affliction when she gave up on the shower and tried to fill the washbasin instead.

Luckily, (though by this point it was debatable whether that luck was good or bad) she was still in the habit of keeping a pitcher of water by the basin. So she could at least sponge herself with that, even if the water could only be called tepid if she were in a generous mood.

It should really go without saying that by now she wasn't exactly in one.

[ooc: open if you'd have a reason to be in Cara's bathroom at this hour]

( 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]

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.

Given she was not a sentimentalist even when it didn't feel like the island was going out of its way to provoke her, this had been a trying week for Cara. Between one thing and another, by the time Friday evening rolled around, she was not the happiest Mord'Sith in Fandom (something of an achievement, considering she was the only Mord'Sith in Fandom).

Which was how instead of getting ready for the dance she came to be sprawled out on her bed sans leathers, occasionally casting a death glare at an innocent bunch of roses. Mostly innocent. The bastard things did keep making her sneeze, after all.

[open, sure]

Stretched out on her bed, door cracked open, Cara was once more attempting to read that book.

Well, it wasn't so much reading it which was the problem as the fact it didn't make any sense. It should have been clear to anyone with eyes that someone who made that big a show about their discretion then started telling anyone who'd listen about how terribly he'd supposedly been treated wasn't the least bit trustworthy.

[open! Getting NWS in the comments.]

After she'd made her way back to her room the night before, the second thing Cara had done (the first being getting all the muck cleaned off 'Richard') had been to swap her leathers for the shirt the human-shaped Richard had managed to leave behind during Parent's Weekend and collapsed into a deep, but not dreamless sleep.

During the night, she'd burrowed under the covers and drawn up into a tight ball, her hands and feet tucked away where nothing could get at them. Apart from her rapid breathing, she made no sound as her eyes darted back and forth under closed lids.

You were always my favourite, Cara. That's why I chose you.


[For the puppy who is not actually named Richard.]

Instead of her usual post-radio bed-flop (talking that much was draining, all right?), Cara was pacing, fingers drumming restlessly against her thighs.

She mightn't have worn a hole in the carpet yet, but given the tension in her shoulders it was only a matter of time.

[Expecting one.]