Marisa Kirisame (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
adropofjupiter) wrote2011-11-26 08:51 pm
adropofjupiter) wrote2011-11-26 08:51 pm
12th ☆
[A. Action 1125/1127 Taylor (Saturday Morning)]
[Marisa was heavy sleeper, but even she wasn't going to sleep through this. Bolting awake, knocking the rubble off of herself, Marisa stared wide-eyed at the devastation around her. She had only two thoughts right then: What they hell was going on and that she needed to get to Patchouli as fast as she could. So, she tried to call for her broom.
...nothing happened. Her brow furrowed and that's when she noticed it. Her magic was gone again. ALL OF IT. Her eyes widened even more. If her magic was gone, then so was Patchouli's. This was bad... very, very, bad. Patchouli was very sickly without her magic. With how hard breathing was for Marisa right then with the dust in the air, she couldn't imagine how hard it was for her girlfriend. So, she had to get to what was left of 340 Brady and hope to the gods that Patchouli was still alive. Panicking wasn't going to get her anywhere.
The witch picked through the remains and eventually found the stairs leading down. This was probably going to be the only time anyone was thankful she was such a packrat. So, she grabbed a beaten pack, tossed a few things from the basement into it, and grabbed a bed sheet, paint, shoelaces and a wooden pole. Once back up, she grabbed a few things from the wreckage before yelling next door.]
OI! CIEL! YOU ALIVE?
[B. Trekking Across Mayfield (Saturday/Sunday)]
[With a pack slung over her shoulder and a bed sheet banner bearing a sigil on a wooden pole, Marisa appears to be on a mission. She's scraped up and there's a tear in the skirt of her dress, betraying dried blood on her leg and bringing attention to a bit of a limp. Determined though she is, she's not going to completely ignore any other living person she crosses paths with.]
[C. Saturday Night]
[It's dark, but someone is still traversing through the wreckage. With a dim, old flashlight in hand, and the bed sheet banner bearing a sigil on a wooden pole that she's -definitely- using for some support, Marisa continues to pick her way through the rubble.]
[Marisa was heavy sleeper, but even she wasn't going to sleep through this. Bolting awake, knocking the rubble off of herself, Marisa stared wide-eyed at the devastation around her. She had only two thoughts right then: What they hell was going on and that she needed to get to Patchouli as fast as she could. So, she tried to call for her broom.
...nothing happened. Her brow furrowed and that's when she noticed it. Her magic was gone again. ALL OF IT. Her eyes widened even more. If her magic was gone, then so was Patchouli's. This was bad... very, very, bad. Patchouli was very sickly without her magic. With how hard breathing was for Marisa right then with the dust in the air, she couldn't imagine how hard it was for her girlfriend. So, she had to get to what was left of 340 Brady and hope to the gods that Patchouli was still alive. Panicking wasn't going to get her anywhere.
The witch picked through the remains and eventually found the stairs leading down. This was probably going to be the only time anyone was thankful she was such a packrat. So, she grabbed a beaten pack, tossed a few things from the basement into it, and grabbed a bed sheet, paint, shoelaces and a wooden pole. Once back up, she grabbed a few things from the wreckage before yelling next door.]
OI! CIEL! YOU ALIVE?
[B. Trekking Across Mayfield (Saturday/Sunday)]
[With a pack slung over her shoulder and a bed sheet banner bearing a sigil on a wooden pole, Marisa appears to be on a mission. She's scraped up and there's a tear in the skirt of her dress, betraying dried blood on her leg and bringing attention to a bit of a limp. Determined though she is, she's not going to completely ignore any other living person she crosses paths with.]
[C. Saturday Night]
[It's dark, but someone is still traversing through the wreckage. With a dim, old flashlight in hand, and the bed sheet banner bearing a sigil on a wooden pole that she's -definitely- using for some support, Marisa continues to pick her way through the rubble.]
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But Marisa ate them without something happening, so they should be safe, right?
She didn't trust her hands not to wobble too much, so she leaned forward to lift the funny pebbles off of Marisa's hand with her teeth. Flandre's fangs graze the skin a bit, but don't stick.
...she promptly frowns and wishes she hadn't, though. That didn't taste so nice.]
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And it did help.
The vampire pillowed her head against Marisa again, eyes half-closed.]
...where's Remi, Marisa?
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What if they're squished, like I was?
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[Marisa was warm. And squishy enough to be a good pillow. Despite the fact that she hadn't physically done that much, she felt exhausted.
Her breathing evens out from that too-quick pace from before, and she's asleep in seconds.]
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Wake up, Flandre.