The Magic Box [Tuesday]

[pasunereveuse.livejournal.com]

Celia had been in a good mood. She'd had an absolutely wonderful weekend, and while she hadn't been literally walking on air since Friday night, the thought had crossed her mind a time or two. And there had been polar bear cub playtime, to boot -- she really couldn't have asked for a better series of days.

And then this morning she'd picked up her mail, and found a letter postmarked from Paris waiting for her, bearing her father's untidy scrawl.

She'd waited until she was at work before she'd opened the letter. It was filled to the brim with Hector's usual lies about how fantastic things were -- she'd lived that life long enough to read between the lines, and correctly interpret his stories of champagne and furs as his spending more time than he probably ought to in Montmartre.

But it was his last paragraph that stopped her in her tracks, with more instantaneous terror than usual.

As always, I hope that you've kept up your studies. I don't need to remind you that your opponent could appear at any time, and you need to be ready to prove yourself. I will be in touch again once I'm back in the country -- perhaps the time has come for me to see for myself how well your tutelage has paid off at this school, and if I am dissatisfied with the results, you know what will happen.

The letter ended there, with no 'Papa' or 'Father' or even a 'Hector' in closing. Celia's eyes retraced the thinly-veiled threat a few more times. She felt her skin heat and her stomach churn, the hair at the back of her neck prickling as her frustration and fear and anger grew.

She heard the sound of glass shattering, and shut her eyes. A few more crashes, and Celia was under control again, though it looked as though she'd be spending her day piecing vials and vases back together. She threw the letter on the counter, forcibly pushing all thought of her father from her mind, and set to work mending what she had broken -- ironically enough, an exercise he'd probably have her engage in if he was still monitoring her training.

[open, OCD-free but angst-ridden, omg.]

the onsen: tuesday afternoon

[halfbad.livejournal.com]

After class, Nathan was left dealing with a pretty nasty headache. It was expected and he'd definitely dealt with worse but still. Being inside was the last thing he wanted to do when he was feeling like he was so he headed to the preserve to at least be outside where he knew he'd eventually calm down and feel better. The healing would kick in much easier there.

On the way back to the preserve, he'd actually stumbled across the onsen on accident. He'd been taking the long way through town, letting himself calm and heal during the walk. Finding the onsen seemed to be a stroke of luck. It was quiet and the water was warm but nothing that would burn him. He hadn't dressed for swimming but he decided to give it a try anyway.

He stripped off his shirt and pants, leaving him only in his shorts before he slipped into the warm water. His head throbbed once but settled again and he leaned back, eyes closed and muscles slowly releasing the tension they tended to carry. This was something he could do. It was being in the water and not worrying about drowning or having to concentrate on swimming.

Every time he started to feel guilty about leaving Gabriel and Annalise out there alone, he found something else on the island that made him forget about everything for awhile. He was weak but he was weak and comfortable right now.

[Open]

Trooper Station: Tuesday

[fracknotfrak.livejournal.com]

Vic had spent the first part of the morning ignoring the stack of paperwork on her desk. She had abandoned trying to call her friends and co-workers back home and was now spending most of her time sending threatening and/or obscene text messages to see if that would somehow trigger a response.

Thus far it had not been successful.

Most likely the rest of the morning and afternoon would involve the same activity with brief breaks to yell at Ralph for adding more paperwork to her inbox.

Seriously. What was up with all that paperwork?

Fandom Post Office, June 10 (Tuesday)

[filleauloup]

Her last trip to the library had left Éponine with a bit of a new obsession, and she couldn't be bothered to be embarrassed about it -- which explained the stack of battered Choose Your Own Adventure books behind the post office counter today.

It also explained the occasional wordless exclamations of indignation, followed by frantic page-rustling, whenever she got a result she didn't like and wanted a do-over.

On the bright side, she was at least very careful not to tear the pages, despite the constant page-flipping.

[OOC: Super busy, so OCD-free, SP applies, post brought to you by my desire to go back and watch If/Then again.]

Caritas- Tuesday

[throughaphase]

Kitty still hadn't heard anything out of Beacon Hills, so her efforts to keep herself distracted from what might be going on over there continued. Which meant that today, anytime she had free time, she was cleaning the bar.

You could probably eat off the bartop. Don't do that, because it's rude and you're not a barbarian, but you could.