A World Enchanted

After her visit to Raven, Tara had spent most of the day lying in bed. She wasn't sad -- not exactly. But she was feeling very thoughtful and troubled and inside-her-head-y, and even the pleasures of the keep weren't enough to have her very social.

She kept coming back to two facts that didn't make much sense next to each other. One was that she'd killed. In self-defense, maybe, and not a human -- but there was still blood on her hands, and she felt guilt for that.

Yet, beneath that, she felt a yearning that she had been able to do more. Not more killing, of course -- but her shields were puny, her telekinesis weak, her offensive magic basically nonexistent. She knew she could do more, if she was brave enough to play with spells just a little further into the gray than she normally let herself go.

It was dangerous. She knew witches could get lost chasing the rush of strong magics. But she almost felt like it was hard to say it wasn't worth the risk, if it could save her friends.

[OOC: Open to those in Kaeleer. NFB. Part of this thing.]

Just as suddenly as she'd turned into a guinea pig the week before, Tara came back to her own body.

There were probably slightly more elegant ways to do it than face-down in a dish of guinea pig chow, with seeds and pellets lining your cheeks, but she wasn't going to complain. She spat the chow into the trashcan -- ew -- and then looked around the room.

Could she really be surprised Kennedy had set up the most elaborate guinea pig play area known to woman?

She pulled on clothes and went to get some real food and find out what she'd missed.

Tara never thought she'd regret putting all of her classes in the second half of the week, but today, she did. She would have welcomed an hour or so of something normal to get her back to thinking about something other than alternate dimensions and rips in the fabric of reality.

Their magic had worked; that was something. She just wished she could have done more, even if she didn't know what more would have been.

At least it was over. Sighing, she settled onto the floor cross-legged and held out a cat toy shaped like a fishing rod. Mr. Moxy was in for an extra-intense play session today. She needed to spoil something.

[OOC: Open door, yep!]

"Owwwwwwwwww."

Tara's head hurt. Her stomach felt like it was trying to swim out of her body. Her mouth tasted like cotton and clay.

She opened her eyes slightly. The firm abs and bright smiles of the boys on the pictures she'd put up yesterday taunted her. And then she remembered something about singing dirty songs and wanted to die then and there.

She settled for closing her eyes and groaning aloud again. She had no idea what had come over her, but one thing was for sure: She was never, ever drinking like that again.

[ooC: Establishy.]

After Tara had finished checking around the campfire and it seemed like everyone was back to normal -- or as normal as Fandom ever got, anyhow -- she slipped away and back to her bunk, where she lay on the cot, trying not to think about anything in particular. (She felt ashamed. And embarrassed. And a bit convinced she would never live this down, no matter what Raven and Karla said.)

The curtains were drawn shut and the light was off, but she'd probably let in anyone who made the effort to look for her. She could only avoid everyone for so long.

[OOC: For anyone who needs her, though she won't be much fun. And I am done spamming now.]

In an ideal world, Tara would have set up the room she was bringing Kennedy back to a little more. Candles. Champagne. Maybe some rose petals.

But in the world she actually lived in, Tara didn't know the first thing about buying champagne and cut-off flower parts made her a little too sad to use after yesterday. Candles, however, she had a lot of. She'd arranged unlit ones around her side of the room artistically and convinced Fiona to find someplace else to be for the evening before she went to Fast Eddie's. She'd done some cleaning, too, and given the cats some extra food so they'd sleep.

None of which stopped her from being nervous about this whole project. But it was feeling like a pretty good kind of nervous as she led Kennedy to her room and pulled her door open. There was a slight giggle in her voice as she said, "After you. You aren't tired or anything, are you?"

'Cause that would just suck.

[OOC: For Kennedy, please, and for SP.]

Tara had books spread out all over the counter at the Magic Box today as Tara tried to sort out ideas for activities she could suggest for the reserves. It was a challenge to find things that might work with all the different forms of magic on the island, but she thought she had some ideas to run past Karla, Raven and Emmett.

There was a sign in the window:

New Student Discount: 15% off Good-Luck Charms

The Magic Box was open.

[OOC: It took me until just now to realize this was in the wrong journal. Sorry.]

Tara was frowning as she and Kennedy made their way into the picnic spot she'd selected. She hadn't quite accounted for how quickly the change of seasons would modify the woods, and there'd been all kind of new vines and shrubbery to walk over on the way.

Ow. Tara loved nature, but some days it just wasn't worth it.

"There are burrs stuck to my socks," she announced as she set down the picnic basket. It wasn't quite a whine. "It's pretty here, though, huh?"

[OOC: For the girl, please!]

Curtains drawn so she wouldn't have to look at the grey, foggy landscape outside, Tara sat cross-legged on her floor, bedroom door cracked open and R.E.M. softly playing on her stereo. She occasionally munched a cookie from the batch she'd made last night as she read.

It was a casual pose, but the studying she was doing was anything but casual. After class and talking to Kennedy yesterday, she wanted to see if she could find anything in her books on magic about lifting a fog, or detecting demons, or fear spells or -- anything, really.

The problem wasn't that she wasn't finding anything; it was that she was finding too much, and a lot of it contradicted itself. Taking a brief break, she absently stroked Moxy as he wandered by. "Bet you miss your friend," she murmured, glancing to Fiona's empty side of the room. She'd gone home to take care of family business. While Tara missed her, she was almost grateful there was one fewer person to worry about on the island until the fog lifted.

[OOC: Cracked door, open post!]

So a potential slayer, a witch, and a baker and occasional psychic step out of a portal and into a gay bar ...

Only in place of 'bar,' insert 'bookstore.' and in place of 'step ... into' insert 'spend more time than they had planned on looking for.'

But other than that? You can insert your own punchline.

As for Tara, she'd finally spotted the bookstore sign. "That's it!" she said, then, more timidly: "I think. End of the block, right?"

[For Francine + Kennedy. NFB.]