![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Fiona assumes she's coming down with her yearly cold. She wakes up with a runny nose, and her eyes feel weighted. Her chest tightens to the point where her breathing slows just to catch up, and when she presses a hand to her head, warmth seeps through her fingers. Her whole body seems to ache, but especially her head. She winces as she makes her way to her medicine cabinet; she downs the godawful cold medicine with the grim determination of an alcoholic. Briefly, it registers in her mind that she doesn't remember last night at all.
Of course, it takes a while to settle in, but after an hour, her head aches less and she can breathe through her nose again. It's a start.
She manages to mostly go on throughout her day fairly normally; her thoughts centered mostly on her interview this past Tuesday, and how she hopes it went well. She would truly love to work as a costume designer, let alone one for a theater renovated by the one and only Corrine Flynn.
By the time evening rolls around, the medicine's worn off, and Fiona realizes that, this morning, she used up her last dregs of the stuff. Really, as a witch, she ought to be using potions as it is. But she's always been rotten at knowing herbs and their properties; she wouldn't even know where to look for a proper potion, to start with.
She's on the boardwalk when the first jolt hits her. She stumbles, nearly falling to her knees and gasping for air as though someone's punched her directly in the gut.
"Fuck," she hisses, as the her back begins to burn. Her body starts to shake, minute trembles that gradually build into outright shivers. She limps over to the railing for support, sweat glistening on her skin. She just barely reaches the railing when sparks fly out of her right hand, landing in the sand.
"Fuck!" She exclaims, her voice ragged as she tries to keep herself together. Panic sets in now; there's electricity burning in her, and she doesn't know how to control it. Another spark flies, from both hands this time, and nearly takes out a nearby seagull. She clenches her hands into fists and tries to keep them close to her, but they seem to move of their own volition. Horror unfurls in her gut along with the piercing pain in her back as she watches light crackle around her fingers. She tries to stop it, but before she can try to reign in her own fists, a larger spark flies out into the night, aiming directly at one of the figures on the beach.
"RUN!" Fiona screams, hoping the person will hear her in time. She jerks again, bending over the railing and gritting her teeth as she tries to keep herself steady. She doesn't know how her magic is doing this; it seems to be controlling her, rather than the other way around.
[Be the person the lighting's heading towards, have one of the other sparks hit your pup, or have your pup catch Fiona sparking from a distance. Either way, girl needs help. For more information regarding her plot, see here for more details. I got impatient and started her plot early, oops. Anyway, any other questions, just let me know! Post is timed to Saturday evening. Open to all!]
Of course, it takes a while to settle in, but after an hour, her head aches less and she can breathe through her nose again. It's a start.
She manages to mostly go on throughout her day fairly normally; her thoughts centered mostly on her interview this past Tuesday, and how she hopes it went well. She would truly love to work as a costume designer, let alone one for a theater renovated by the one and only Corrine Flynn.
By the time evening rolls around, the medicine's worn off, and Fiona realizes that, this morning, she used up her last dregs of the stuff. Really, as a witch, she ought to be using potions as it is. But she's always been rotten at knowing herbs and their properties; she wouldn't even know where to look for a proper potion, to start with.
She's on the boardwalk when the first jolt hits her. She stumbles, nearly falling to her knees and gasping for air as though someone's punched her directly in the gut.
"Fuck," she hisses, as the her back begins to burn. Her body starts to shake, minute trembles that gradually build into outright shivers. She limps over to the railing for support, sweat glistening on her skin. She just barely reaches the railing when sparks fly out of her right hand, landing in the sand.
"Fuck!" She exclaims, her voice ragged as she tries to keep herself together. Panic sets in now; there's electricity burning in her, and she doesn't know how to control it. Another spark flies, from both hands this time, and nearly takes out a nearby seagull. She clenches her hands into fists and tries to keep them close to her, but they seem to move of their own volition. Horror unfurls in her gut along with the piercing pain in her back as she watches light crackle around her fingers. She tries to stop it, but before she can try to reign in her own fists, a larger spark flies out into the night, aiming directly at one of the figures on the beach.
"RUN!" Fiona screams, hoping the person will hear her in time. She jerks again, bending over the railing and gritting her teeth as she tries to keep herself steady. She doesn't know how her magic is doing this; it seems to be controlling her, rather than the other way around.
[Be the person the lighting's heading towards, have one of the other sparks hit your pup, or have your pup catch Fiona sparking from a distance. Either way, girl needs help. For more information regarding her plot, see here for more details. I got impatient and started her plot early, oops. Anyway, any other questions, just let me know! Post is timed to Saturday evening. Open to all!]
