Claire Keane
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@pyro-latry-blog
Something explodes.
There’s nothing unsurprising about a significant explosion, and despite that, Willow seems nonplussed by the idea that something just burst into flame and concussive forces in her hands.
However, her hair is very much on fire, along with her clothes, her false leg, and the bush she had been kneeling next to, the ground and herself smeared in soot.
gentomologist:
TO: Willow Clarke FROM: Gonta Gokuhara
[txt]: Oh hi! [txt]: It must be Christmas music! I’ve been listening to some
TO: Gonta Gokuhara FROM: Willow Clarke
[TEXT] Oh uh, hi. Just realized messaging was kind of weird.
[TEXT] Sorry?
[TEXT] I can picture some of the tunes. They’re kinda hard to remember.
“Give me a ten and I’ll eat this stick.”
gentomologist:
TO: All Contacts FROM: Gonta Gokuhara
[txt]: [image] [txt]: 🙂
TO: Gonta Gokuhara FROM: Willow Clarke
[TEXT] They’re dancing?? Nice.
[TEXT] I wonder what kind of music they have.
mimicryarts:
Just a regular day at one of the hotspots at Little Tokyo, which reminds her of home at Japan. Well, that was merely one of her reasons why she wished to live in Cotes than Golden, but she had no choice either way. That is until a girl came towards the pink-haired girl.
“How i attained it? Hmm.” Honoka thinking about how did she get pinkish hair like that but it should be something genetic with her real parents. No hair-color changes, just some traits from her mostly, her mother. This was actually the first time a stranger asking that question directly. “I might have inherited it with my mother, if that was a chance i can still remember.” Her insights about how pink her hair was. She doesn’t want her to be looking down on hair colors as she stated that black is cool too, even generic.
“I think having black hair is cool too, just saying.” Honoka said it in a friendly tone.
Reaching up, Willow wraps one of her pigtails around her hand, rubbing her fingers against it. The texture is familiar, comforting despite the fact that there’s no fire in her hands, no lighter rough against the pad of her thumb. It’ll be okay. She’s lived in big cities before, and she lets that be a comfort.
“So it’s natural?” There’s a note of disbelief in her voice, but Willow doesn’t recoil. “I’ve never heard of natural pink before... That’s pretty cool.”
Willow chuckles at the comment about her own hair, tugging on a pigtail. “I mean, it’s kinda plain, but I like it this way.”
getempuppy:
The stranger breaks free of PUPPY’S grip long enough to drive an elbow into his ribs; the masked man doesn’t flinch or make a sound, and instead wraps his metal arm around his throat and listens to the air struggle and fail to reach his lungs. The captive’s face turns blue, and he stops moving.
PUPPY releases him and watches his body crumple sideways into the gutter. He doesn’t check if he’s dead. He doesn’t care. The fact he’s no longer interrupting is enough. Dusting himself off, he turns back to the FIRELIGHTER and searches his pockets for his phone.
DIDN’T THINK HE’D FOLLOW ME HOW DOES THAT WORK? (he indicates the fire) A MOD?
If it’s not a mod, then it’s MAGIC or something equally as weird that SPIRALE seems to have an abundance of. He doesn’t like MAGIC. It feels like cheating.
It’s messier than Willow’s preferred style. However, her own has a deadly accuracy, all spear point and the plain wounds of a hunter. Willow makes theatrics out of nothing, there is no good reason to do so, considering the lives she’s lived and died through. She has time for very little anymore. So she stands in relative silence, listening to her heartbeat in her ears and the crackle of flame sparking against air.
“Beats me why he did that.” Willow has spent time alone. There’s pieces to forgot, especially in the subtle nuances of human etiquette. Pigs are much blunter, they say what they want, and Willow can respect that. So she takes a page from their book. “But you sure showed him. Guy’s a sack of meat at this point.”
The fire. She looks into her hands, a few flames licking her nose. “Oh uh. I just do that. It’s my friend, and I like having it around. But I don’t know, why. Just happened one day.”
She doesn’t mention the other pieces. The devil deals. The curse. Maxwell.
actuallymuffet:
It’s a good thing Muffet is as tall as she is, because with a moving crowd like this, it’s unlikely she would have noticed the still girl otherwise. But her non-movement, unique among the people around her, drew Muffet’s attention. And well that it did, because when she got closer to her, Muffet could only hope that the recognition she felt was a mutual feeling.
“Willow, isn’t it?” she started, a gentle greeting with plausible deniability. “You look a bit uncomfortable. Would you like to get out of the crowd with me?”
Her voice was soft, and she kept some distance just in case, or as much as she could while still ensuring people didn’t walk between the two of them.
That is in fact, her name. Willow quakes there and then, baffled by the sound of her name in this place. This city isn’t the same, after all, and all she can expect is things completely different. There’s fear in her, weight shifting again in order to prevent chafing against her leg, the effectiveness of the grease beginning to fade.
“I-I. Yeah, I’m Willow, that’s my name.” There’s still familiarity though, and instead of running full tilt away, she squints at the other woman, not quite cornered enough to show her teeth.
“Sure.” She speaks in a short, sharp voice, looking this way and that. There’s nothing that she responds to, and instead, she takes an even step towards Muffet, though she doesn’t come too close. “We can go somewhere. That place looks fine.” Pointing over to some non-descriptive cafe, Willow once again goes back to looking this way and that.
getempuppy:
PUPPY raises his hands to show he means no harm, keeping his distance from the human FIRELIGHTER. He’s not dumb enough to mess with a woman who can control fire–the sight of it sets him on edge, though he doesn’t understand why.
YOU’RE GOOD THAT’S A NEAT TRICK I’D LIKE TO KNOW MORE ABOUT IT BUT FIRST
First, he has his own problems to deal with. A very angry, red-faced problem with a broken nose. The masked man slips his phone back into his pocket before turning to face his assailant, and a second later they’re brawling in the middle of the street; the other doubles over with a pained grunt as PUPPY drives his metal fist into his gut.
It’s all good fun to PUPPY, but the FIRELIGHTER is likely less impressed with how the situation has escalated. It doesn’t matter. He won’t take long with this one.
Willow, ever suspicious, squints at the hands that are offered, somewhat pacified by the gesture of approval towards her fire. It stays in her hands, rolling around and hugging her fingers like it’s been generated out of there. Willow has great pride in it, and therefore, nods ever so slightly as the stranger launches himself back into the tussle.
She understands it, the itch of violence that can travel into one’s hands. So, she doesn’t protest, doesn’t insist that they break it up. It would be useless, and she has little time for useless.
So instead, she wonders what started the fight in the first place. Possession of property? A rude act? Just a look in someone’s eye? There were many possibilities when her perspective was taken. Though, perhaps she was just good at getting into fights.
“You finish up, whatever that is. Then we can talk.”
@solohunting
She hadn’t expected to be stopped when trying to enter this place. The mall was interesting enough, and despite her anxiety, Willow was desperate to try and explore, to see what had changed. Nevertheless, she was standing in front of a security officer, desperately rifling through her pockets to find the last of anything she might have to present.
The grease she used on her false knee had gained a glare, as well as the knife she accidentally showed. Unsure and sick of things, Willow had taken a small step back, grumbling under her breath.
“Hey.” She finally calls out to someone, pleading. “Can you tell this guy I’m fine to go in?”
@mimicryarts
She’s never seen pink hair before. It’s actually pretty cool, she thinks, considering how easily it stands out. Her own, dark as night, is needing a brushing something terrible, considering how it’s tangled, and she’s a bit afraid to try and release it from its pigtails. So, she keeps it up, and instead, makes to approach the woman with the strange hair, head held high despite the bits and pieces of her that feel all too moody.
“How’d you get your hair like that?”
An easy question, if not a little odd. “Never seen anything like it before.”
@getempuppy
This place is not one she recognizes. Willow wanders for a few hours, searching for any familiar sights, even familiar people that may have some sort of recognition. There’s nothing of use, and it’s annoying, to the point where she’s content to pace and look terribly, terribly cross, tossing fire from hand to hand as she tries to settle herself.
“Shit. This is so, ugh.” Seemingly unwilling to carry on, she turns on heel, only to spot a figure she considers to be somewhere between strange and imposing, Willow stopping in place and tilting her head.
The fire is still there.
“I in your way?”
@actuallymuffet
Seeing a spider sends her into a frozen sort of panic. There’s a hundred memories associated with this, and Willow ends up frozen in the middle of a group of people, one still thing among so much movement. Phantom pain hits her briefly, in her head instead of any true anything. Fear has a way of doing that, and so Willow deals with the pain radiating up into her hip, and down to where there is nothing.
Something keeps her from starting a fight though, despite her urge to do so at most times.
So she stares, toying with her lighter and looking anything other than natural as she leans heavily on her good leg.
There is a specific nervousness that seems to convalesce on Willow at all times. It has done her well, there is no doubt about that. She has seen many another day due to it. However, there is no outlet here, there is just no good reason to be so scared.
The lighter is in her hand, but she wants something better than that. Willow, in a fit of desperation, snaps her fingers, and is quite quickly engulfed in flames.
In the middle of a square, of all things.
Starter call! She’s nervous, she’s confused, and she’s cautious, come meet Willow today!
Uncapped for the most part? Non-event btw!
Even with the time she’d had, she still didn’t fully grasp cars. So, Willow glowers at the cab driver and sets off on her own, searching her pockets and carefully testing her leg against the concrete and too even earth of this city. Her pockets don’t hold much. There’s a knife, her lighter, the pot of grease she uses to keep the stone and metal joints in her false knee and ankle working.
The tentacle spike is there too, an old and vicious friend, flat against her back. Willow reaches back to touch it, avoiding the barbs. She’s made that mistake before, broken out in rashes across her palms from mishandling her weapon. There is no time for that, she’s on too high of an alert, head tilted for noises, trying to pick and pull them apart.
City sounds are so unusual that it very nearly hurts her head, makes her dizzy and somewhat close to sick. Willow, in quiet response, takes her lighter from her pocket, hiding it in her hands and flicking it on and off, letting the familiar flames lick her fingers.
Sixty years was a long time to be separated from a place like this, and with little idea where to go or begin, Willow throws her shoulders back, the hand not on the flames pulling her hair out of its pigtails. She had to get moving, find shelter, find light.
Find anything before it got dark.
Something to note.
Time passes differently in the Constant, which is the name of the realm/island Willow is living on. In the approximately five months that she’s been absent from any sort of city, about sixty years have passed for her, in which she’s been living and dying.
She may not remember those she met only briefly, and may have shaky memories of others.
Willow -- Don’t Starve
- A two-thousand year old cursed mess of a woman.
- She’s been living alone in the woods the entire time, and dying a lot.
- Very interested in fire, and very good at wielding fire.
- Also blood magic. The girl doesn’t fuck around.
- Sixty years have passed in her world since she was last here. It’s all very confusing.
- Italian hand gestures.