Fela | The Kingkiller Chronicles (relarfela) wrote in madisonvalley, @ 2013-10-01 19:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | !log, !open, ~2013 october, ~~!35 points, ~~fela (relarfela), ~~rowena ravenclaw (ravenfaire) |
WHO: Fela and OPEN!
WHAT: Walking home late...and using magic
WHEN: Tuesday evening
WHERE: Between Uncle Elmer's Tavern and the Apartments
WARNINGS: TBD
STATUS: OPEN/ONGOING
In the first few days that she'd been here, Fela had expected to wake up back at home like this had all been some sort of insane dream. And every morning, she hadn't. And as the days had worn on, she'd begun to realize that this was real. That she'd somehow been pulled into a world completely unlike her own in every way, completely unrelated to any life she'd had back home. There had been a moment of panic when that truth had hit her, and then a desperate, yearning homesickness. She missed Simmon, she missed the University, she missed all the thousand and one little things that you take for granted in a place that's familiar.
After a few days, that panic had faded into a less noticeable heaviness in the pit of her stomach, something she supposed was likely permanent. Or at least very long term. It wasn't all bad. She wasn't one of those pitiable people who had no one from back home to ease their fears here. Kvothe was here, and Elodin. That was something.
Fela had spent the evening at Uncle Elmer's tavern, listening to Kvothe, drinking, and reading. He was as good as he'd ever been, and the sound of him playing his lute brought back memories of the home she had been torn from. But good ones that put a bittersweet smile on her face as the bartender cried for last call and Kvothe joined her at her table. They had talked for a while, and it had been nice. She felt so much more comfortable around him now that she was with Simmon, and the horrible crush she'd had on him had faded.
It was late when she left the tavern, and made her way back in the direction of the apartments. The moon was hidden under swiftly moving clouds, and it was that sort of autumn night that made one sure demons and ghosts were in the air. Even when you knew they weren't.
Reaching into the pocket of her coat, she nervously pulled out a tiny sympathy lamp she'd made, and lit it, hoping that anyone who saw would think it was little more than a flashlight, and not what they would consider 'magic.' She definitely didn't have ten thousand dollars, and the idea of spending 90 days in jail was far less than pleasant. But at the moment, those seemed like little things compared to the idea of walking home on this dark and lonely night.
She heard a sound behind her and whirled around to find nothing, her heart pounding in her chest.
"Who is it? Who's there?"