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Illyana Nicolievna Rasputina (ex_darkchyld899) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,

The bugs, while annoying, weren't as troublesome to Illyana as they were to the others. She didn't have to go outside if she didn't want to, and could avoid the swarms by just using a Stepping Disc to get from one place to another. Of course, the problem with that was, for the briefest instant, she was home, in Limbo, and for the fraction of a second it took to pass through the demonic dimension before the glass prison pulled her back, she felt a twinge of longing for the place. Not that she really wanted to be back in that cesspool of sin, but it would be a change from the prison. In Limbo, she at least knew the rules and how to keep herself more or less safe. She had power in Limbo; here, she was helpless, or practically so. She wasn't there long enough to do more than register her presence, which is what allowed her teleports to actually work. She couldn't get the smallest glimpse of the dimension, even if she forced her eyes open and made herself not blink. She wasn't there long enough.

Today, she'd decided to torture herself, using her Stepping Discs to bring her to the thrift store. She'd been running around in sandals for too long on the run-down roads and overgrown forest floors; she wanted some more sturdy shoes, if there were any to be had. After some searching, she'd been able to find a pair of very beaten-up sneakers that were about a size too big for her. Best she was gonna get, and beggars couldn't be choosy, so she laced them on over top of her sandals. She didn't want to get rid of those, and carrying them would leave her encumbered if anything decided to jump out of the darkness at her. She didn't entirely trust that the zombies were gone for good.

A scraping sound outside pulled her attention. It didn't sound like a zombie's shuffle. Cautiously, Illyana made her way toward the door of the shop and crept outside to see what was making the noise. Worst came to worst, she'd summon a Stepping Disc and disappear back to the theater.

She wasn't sure what she was expecting to "see", but it wasn't someone dragging a couch down the road. "Need a hand with that?" she called out, making her presence known. Nobody dragging a couch was a member of the undead army.