Eyes with a fire, unquenched, by peace. [Set to this evening; tw: illness, magical manipulation]

[straightupgeek]

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!]

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[doublethepain]

It's a lovely evening. The moon is waning but still lights the shore just well enough to cast a glow over the ocean, and Spencer has never been one to spend a great deal of time by the water even having grown up in a town like this, but he supposes it's a lingering effect of being transformed into a merman that sees him walking along the beach before he heads home tonight.

He'd closed up Crossroads nearly half an hour ago with a texted promise to his husband that he'd soon be home with dinner, but he'd gotten momentarily distracted while passing the boardwalk and now, he stands with his arms crossed over his chest as he looks out at the waves, a gentle breeze passing through his hair and keeping him cool.

With the night so calm, Spencer can let everything else fade away as he thinks of Joel, of their future and the child they'll soon get to meet, and it's exactly for that reason that the shouted warning reaches him too late to make a difference. Something hits him, hard enough to make him fall to his knees on the sand, and he lands hard against his palms with a grunt before he realizes there's a sharp, burning pain at his side. He glances down with wide eyes, horrified to see that a part of his shirt has been burned away, leaving behind rapidly reddening and tender flesh that stings more and more with every passing second.

He looks up to see the cause, one hand hovering over his side, until he sees one lone figure on the boardwalk. He squints, thinking the woman looks like she could familiar but unable to make out her face in the dim lamplight, and it's the thought that she could be hurt that gets him to his feet. He limps toward her as quickly as he can, one part of him telling that he needs to call Joel now and the other urging him to get to the woman to make sure she's alright first.

"Are you okay?" he calls out, wincing at the stretch of his skin as he stumbles toward her. "Are you hurt?"

[straightupgeek]

She's fraying at the edges, she thinks. In her mind, she sees the emerald dress she once loved with her whole heart at age fifteen; she sees it draped over the chair in her apartment, the fringe hanging off the hem of it nearly long enough to touch the floor. A giant tear resides in the back of it, elegant in its length and splintered edges. Fiona lets out a noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh; here she is, shooting off sparks and falling apart, and all she can think about is that damn dress. The one her father bought for her, all those years ago.

"Shit," she hisses, feeling the surge run through her again. Gritting her teeth, she pulls herself up by the rails and manages to concentrate enough to aim the spark right at the sand, away from anyone who might still be daft enough to linger around her. Still, it requires a lot of energy; more energy than Fiona herself possesses, and she finds herself nearly breathless for such a risk.

"Fuck," she moans, sweat banding on her forehead. And that's when she notices the man approaching. He limps, grasping at the edge of his burned shirt, and she instantly knows what's happened.

"Fuck," she curses again, louder . "Stay away from me! I don't know how to control it!"

She nearly screams as another spark gets away from her, landing in the sand once more. She doesn't know how much longer she can bear this. "Don't come any closer! I'm going to hurt you!"

She bends over the railing like a wounded animal, desperate to catch her breath and sanity.

[doublethepain]

That stops him right in his tracks.

It's clear that she'd been the cause of his burn, though Spencer doesn't quite understand how or why; the only thing he really knows is that he desperately wants to help her but the trouble is, he isn't sure how to do it without causing one or both of them more pain than they're already in right now. It's thankfully a quiet night on the beach so at least there are no others that Spencer would have to work to clear out of the area with poor explanations; but at the same time, that only makes him more of a target, and it's not that he thinks she'd been aiming for him but at the same time, he has a wound on his side that makes him feel like he's on fire so he thinks it's only fair that he's become a bit wary about helping her.

"I'll stay right here," he promises, hands up in the air as if in surrender for something she hadn't asked him to surrender to, and he plants his feet deep into the sand, tiny grains filling up his shoes in a most uncomfortable way. "Right here, okay? I won't come any closer yet but if you can tell me what I can do, if I can call someone for you, get you some help, anything, just tell me."

[straightupgeek]

She...kind of gapes, at his blatant lack of sense, apparently. Anyone in their right mind would have headed for the hills at this moment. Or, rather, right when they'd gotten hit with a sudden burst of electricity. She's torn between yelling at him, to shove him away for his own safety, and calling out to him for help. He doesn't seem like a witch to her; she would hope a witch would have the good sense to employ their own magic in stopping her, at least.

"You should really run," she tells him, her voice coming out more cracked than anything else. She's tired, and her back aches as though she were pregnant, which she knows she isn't. But all she wants to do is crawl into a hole until the pain and her electrical urges disappear. "Unless you know some kind of spell, there's nothing you can do for me."

She wishes she remembered last night; the more she thinks of it, the more certain she becomes of that whatever she can't remember is the source of her distress.

With another cry, she looses another bolt into the sand.

[doublethepain]

A spell.

Of course, a spell would most certainly come in quite handy at the moment, but Spencer is faced yet again with the fact that in Siren Cove, he's very much next to useless. It isn't much of a bother a majority of the time, he'd gotten along well enough without turning to magic before he'd known it existed; but in cases likes this, Spencer sometimes wishes that he'd been gifted with something more than the ability to remember everything he's ever read. Joel would be of great help to this woman, he's sure, and a part of Spencer wonders if maybe he should call his husband for help but the more selfish part is screaming at him to leave it be. Getting Joel to come here would only put him at risk, and Spencer isn't willing to let his husband get hurt like he already has, not for anyone.

Still, he wishes so badly that he could help, though he's at a loss as to what he could possibly do for the woman's powers that are so out of control. He's never seen anything quite like it, has never witnessed a witch with the inability to control their own magic, and it's a bit frightening to think that this could happen to anyone else.

The sand at his feet is struck then, and it makes him jump in surprise before it sets him into motion. He steels himself as he runs--stumbles, really--away from the water and toward the boardwalk, telling himself all along that this could end very poorly for him if he makes the wrong move, but he's approaching the woman's back as she sends another bolt flying, this time so that it fizzles out in the water. "Don't look at me," he tells her, hands raised in front of him even though she can't see, "my name's Spencer, and I can't do magic but I have plenty of friends who can. Just-- just try to stay calm, and I can call any of them, I just need to know if you have any idea what could be wrong so they can help."

[straightupgeek]

She just wishes she could remember the other night. Fiona doesn't understand how she could live through an entire night and then forget it. Instinct tells her that magic is involved; she must have a memory spell on her, or something of the like. But suspecting the use of magic doesn't help when her own powers are so out of control. And then there's the pain, running rampant all down her back. She grimaces. If she discovers that another witch is the one to have done this to her, there will damn well be hell to pay.

She hears him approaching from behind her then and she wants to laugh and cry all at once. Apparently, he really doesn't have a sense of self-preservation.

"You shouldn't be this near me," she protests, struggling against the urge to release another bolt of lighting. "I could strike you again, and at this range, I can't guarantee that it wouldn't kill you."

[lesparker]

It's no surprise that Les is on the boardwalk with Fiona's powers go on the fritz. He is enjoying food at the concession stand. His favorite: a corndog and a frozen lemonade. He is just standing to toss away his trash when he smells the snap of ozone in the air, and suddenly the air is shifting. And then there's a loud crack across the sky, a white zig zag from the heavens all the way down to the ground.

It splinters off and suddenly there are strikes of lightening all around them, hitting benches and signs, and the few tourists that are out for the night take cover. Fiona screams, and he immediately runs towards her direction. He hasn't used it a long time, but he has the power to call lightening and he's hoping if he needs to he can fend off any lightening coming at him. "I need you concentrate," he yells at Fiona once he spots her clutching the railing. His voice is firm but calm, and he tries to inch closer. "I don't want to die in a lightening storm. And none of these people do either."

[straightupgeek]

"Don't you think I know that?" She replies, gritting her teeth. She wishes she could tell him how much it hurts just to try and focus; her powers feel untamed, like a wolf plowing through the wild in search of prey. And all the while, it feels like someone set her back on fire.

"Don't come any closer," she warns him, as she closes her eyes and tries to heed his advice as best she can. She finds that not seeing helps; she can at least grasp the edges of whatever it is that is causing her to spark like a frayed plug.

Bursts of electricity fly from her fingertips as she digs her hands into the railings; she's gasping for breath.

"Fuck," she groans, hoping that she can keep her powers under control.

[lesparker]

Ignoring her warnings to stay back, Les heads closer keeping his eyes on the sparks shooting up from her hands, thinking to himself this is both incredible and dangerous. There must be something incredibly wrong with her powers. Thinking quickly he holds up his hands, showing he may touch her.

"I can try to calm you," he says. His fire powers allow him to conduct heat, energy by touch. He's never used it this way with people under extreme duress, but he has used it to soothe or warm people. But it's different using his powers on another witch without asking.

[straightupgeek]

Jesus, what is with the men in this town and not heeding warnings? She watches him approach in disbelief. God, she doesn't want to hurt anyone else. And trying to prevent herself from doing do only hurts her the more. She grits her teeth, taking in the sight of his raised hands with a wary eye.

"Calm me?" She asks, wondering what he means by that. A moment later, understanding dawns on her, and she allows a small flicker of relief to flood into her expression. "Are you a witch too?"

As frightened as she feels, she begins to nurture a flourish of hope within herself at his words.

[lesparker]

Les nods at her, still eying the sparks leaving her hands attentively, ready to duck out of the way if necessary. "I am a witch. A pretty decent one if you let me help you," he says. He knows how it must feel to be unable to control your powers. He used to be not so good at it himself. And it isn't lightening he deals with, it's fire so it's a very good thing he managed to find his control.

"It's just an energy spell," he assures her and holds out his hands even further reaching for her arm.