SHAPED & TEMPERED

"I was born without claws, without fangs, without scales. So, I forged them in fire and crafted them of steel."  CURRENT STATUS: alive 

[bounnostra]

Trial 2.2 | ivey re: timeline, bams, orwell

Ivey sat in her chair, her hand came to rest up upon her lips, eyes glancing off to the side. Her gaze was dull, glazed over… her discomfort and malaise was obvious.

Though, a few things did manage to keep her attention fully on the conversations at hand, and she turned her gaze back to the group.

Firstly, Ana’s stuttering apology to her was met with another flat stare. It lasted for a few seconds before Ivey sighed gently, and tried to flash her a comforting smile. She did not hold anything against her, not in the slighest. She was on Ivey’s good list.

(And yet… was a simple stare and rebuttal from herself all that intimidating? Was she all that intimidating? What had she done to earn this reputation? It caused her to feel all the more unsettled.)

The hero theory talk… now that just got a blank stare from Ivey. She opened her mouth like she was going to speak, before she held back, her brow furrowing.

When she finally did speak again, it was regarding the mirror house.

“How strange… to have alcohol like that on hand and only take advantage of it under the pretense that Mr. de Tormes might go into a confined area. No, the whole thing feels much more planned than that. Almost as if they were purposefully baiting him into an area through some means.”

She cleared her throat a bit, grunting after she did.

“Everything about this feels planned, despite the overall destruction. The axe to the tree at the party, the meeting at an isolated location, the assumed utilization of fire… surely, if they were to overtake someone so powerful, the killer would need to be prepared, would they not?”

She reached up, tapping at her cheek.

“The lightning… well, I do not have an answer for that one. But I never claimed to be a detective!

She smiled weakly, then turning her attention to the sweat nymph previous known as Orwell.

“Ah, Mr. Orwell… please do be careful not to poke the bear too much. I am too far away and much too hungover to defend you, hoho!”

A light tease. She tilted her head to Maverick, her gaze turning a bit more… tired.

“I also think Maverick being in the woods is rather circumstantial ‘evidence’, and perhaps not worth the time or energy to discuss. After all, if the tree was cut down during the party, surely one of us would have hear it? Which means… the infamous lumberjack could very well be anyone, unfortunately!”

[bounnostra]

trial 2.1 | ivey re: anastasia, duck

She felt ill. Nauseous… and the thrill ride up to the newly renovated trial room was not helping in matters the slightest. 

(Why did she drink so much? Why did she stay up talking of her insecurities instead of sleeping? These were questions easy to ask in hindsight, but she knows exactly why she did both.) 

She tried to stand up first, as she had the last trial. She felt it gave her an air of power, of certainty… but she soon found her legs wobbling, and she swallowed hard. She sat upon the chair behind her, brows knitted in discomfort, back straight. 

Vulnerable? No. She still would not appear so. The moment Ana spoke up, Ivey was quick to shoot her a tired glance, a flat stare. 

A phone number, was it? 

Her phone number? 

…very well.  

“How convenient. A little too convenient would you not say, Miss Anastasia?”  

Her voice was low, gruff with the exhaustion the night and investigation. Perhaps, also, gruff with annoyance. Gruff with the animosity she had been receiving with seemingly little sign of release. 

“Should that even be what the note’s true cipher is, Duck raises a valid point. We all have access to this information. I know Pip and I also have a list of numbers within our room.” She frowned, brow knitting harder for a moment, almost as if in pain. “…and need I not bring up the rumors about me that have been spreading since the aftermath of the first trial. Despite most not finding it necessary to come speak with me, plenty seem content to–hm. Talk shit about my perceived motives and beliefs.” 

Her delivery was flat, and she showed little emotion. She gave the room a wide glance.

“How easy it would be, to write my phone number and stick it in his pocket. A rush in writing and wet ink smudging as the number is folded…” 

She paused, clearing her throat a bit. Her body tensed, and she let out a shaky breath before she continued, looking directly at Duck now. 

“I think Miss Duck brought up a good point that could help the timeline that has been glossed over… Mr. de Tormes was no push over, if the situation with the tree is to be taken into account. Strength such as that would surely mean he was never the underdog in a fight… so then why did he seem to be on the run? How did someone overpower him…?” 

She stopped there for now. She did not comment on Pip’s words. 

Now, perhaps it was less of a choice, and more of a inability. She had been avoiding his gaze as the trial started, but now, as she finally came to see the obvious signs of emotion distress, of pain… 

She closed her eyes. 

[bounnostra]

Chapter Two | Ivey RE: the body | The Fell Sword

The smell of smoldering cinders was usually like a gentle embrace to the bladesmith— a feeling akin to a wily aunt rushing up to grab your cheeks at a family gathering. It wasn’t always pleasant, leaving her with a stinging in her throat, but it was warm and nostalgic. It was safe, familiar…

Unfortunately, this scent was tainted.

Ivey was one of the last to arrive on the scene, her pace slower than usual. Granted those who were at the party would recall her inebriated state, so it was probably not too much of a surprise— the night had not treated her well.

(As she stood there, the autumn chill cutting through the skin of her cheek like a million tiny needles, she suddenly wanted nothing more than to be on that couch again in front of the fireplace, tangled together—)

But there was no going back now, there was only looking forward. As she did, she was forced to look upon the body of Valerio laying broken and bloody upon the debris of the ferris wheel.

“…”

What did she feel? Whatever it was, she did not express it well upon her face. Her expression was hard, her gaze distant. While she was facing Valerio, it was almost as if her eyes were unseeing him— the man who kept so many of them from a crushing defeat. Yet, also a man who treated her with the same contempt that has started to wane on her.

But what did she feel? She tried to parse it without delving into those emotional depths she refused to normally tread. There was a door there she was unwilling to open up. Due to that, the only response she could come up with for herself was…

Conflicted.

Ivey let her gaze fall at last, hand reaching up to her head. She winced with the throbbing pain and reached into kimono (balancing the coffee and sandwich as she did). She was not hungry. She was sure if she tried to eat it would only find its way back up… she wasn’t sure if it was due to her physical or her mental state. The coffee, however, was an appreciated aid as she took one of the painkillers she brought with her, one of the few luxuries Gambit afforded them.

There would be no mourning from her, not that their usually was. She and death had an estranged relationship and she would rather keep it at a distance.

There was only the option now: moving forward.

[bounnostra]

trial 1.6 | ivey re: scourge, orwell, time

Ivey felt so exhausted, more exhausted than she had felt in a long, long time.

She winced at the words becoming a torrent of theories and accusations around her, hand coming up to her face. She covered her scar with her hand, eyes closing.

( It was throbbing. Perhaps it was the lack of rest, or perhaps they were to get rain—)

How strange. She thought this would be easy. She cares little about the opinions of others, especially those here… but that seemed to have been a convenient lie to tell herself. For the most part it rung true. As people accused her of murder, or berated her for her suspicious behavior, it did not move her. That was expected…

Ivey was just never socially intelligent to consider the reactions beyond that.

The crying and desperation of Pip, the icy fury of Scourge turning to the cold shoulder…

Speaking of Scourge, she cast them a cold glare of her own at their dismissal of her. Oh, she knew this behavior. She knew exactly what Scourge was doing. They were angry, so now they were going to belittle her and treat her as an mere insect buzzing around their head, giving lackadaisical swats in her direction.

She knew, because she did the same thing— but she quite disliked being on the opposite side.

But Scourge’s pointed frustration moved to Orwell, and that caused yet another unexpected hardship.

Her hands dropped from her face and then landed on the table, clenching into fists. How far she was from him, like Pip. And yet, how badly she wished she could at least give him a soft pat on the back. It seemed as though she would rely on Seattle for that.

Instead, she focused on what she could— causing her to speak again.

“I apologize, I did not realize my attempting to do something kind for once in my life would cause such strife.” There was obvious, bitter sarcasm in her tone at this point. “Yes, I was alone with Orwell, much like he and others confirmed… but he is correct. I did not see the need to bring it up because many others saw us leave together. It is not as though we made a point to hide.” She took a breath. “I am sure many others saw his visceral reaction to the body. He could barely stay on his feet… and yet the group we had come to work with seemed interested in remaining in the general vicinity of the corpse. After we examined the dock, he remained unsettled, so we decided to go inside to look there and freshen up. If you expect a man who is all but ill to properly explore the entire hotel, your expectations are sorely flawed.”

How funny, for Ivey of all people to be speaking in the vein of compassion.

And then Time… ah, Miss Time. Ivey turned to face her, hands moving to fold again… and she gave a soft, bitter smile.

“How crude. You think I would want to kill someone just on some happenstance association? Ho, perhaps you are right—” A pause, and the smile disappeared.

“But I will not accept someone insinuating that I had any solitary interest in playing into the owl’s claws. Hearing my name be uttered from his beak is enough to make my skin crawl, let alone altering my behavior in order to entertain him.” She seems genuinely disgusted, nose scrunching. “Anything I do is for my own benefit, not his.”

She scoffed a bit.

“And justice… verily, I gave up upon being karma’s adjudicator long before the events of this murder.” Her eyes glanced down. “There is no more thankless, nor capricious, master.”

[bounnostra]

trial 1.5 | Ivey re: maverick, scourge, pip

Ivey wasn’t happy with this anymore.

She felt her grip on the controls not just slipping, but being forcefully taken from her. She casted a dark glance at Pincer as he seemed to explain her heels, fingers pressing against one another in her folded hands. Convoy would follow, but by then the cat was already out of the bag. She felt as though she was slowly begin to tread water, and the only thing she could do was to keep her head up to avoid going under.

Worst of all, despite her best attempts to shift the suspicion onto herself, it seems as though the masses had decided to focus on Pip instead. She felt…

Bad. So bad.

( If she knew it would come to this, she would have handled this differently. She never wanted Pip to be put in the fire, no. He deserved it the least out of anyone in this sorry bunch of idiots. He cared so deeply, so unabashedly. Ivey didn’t understand it, obviously, or else she would have—)

It was Maverick who seemed to shock her out of her silence though, and she snapped an icy glare over in his direction, hand instinctively going back to her sword, despite the masses knowing of its bluntness.

“Do you believe yourself to be intimidating? Because you carry a useless gun and parade your fitness around like an accessory?” She lowered her head, voice lowered in a way that sounded… very unlike the Ivey many had come to know. “Do not threaten Pip again.”

And the disappointment and terrible feelings did not stop from there. As Scourge spoke, she looked at them attentively, listening to their words. Waiting for the response she expected… and though she expected some vitriole, the heat of Scourge’s fiery words burned her worse than her forge ever had.

“…”

She was speechless at first, eyes looking down to the table in front of her. Her brows were furrowed, but the exact emotion on her face was unreadable. When she spoke, her words were careful, and slow.

“…certainly I hope you remember the rest of our conversation, Mx. Scourge, instead of cherry picking my own words to weaponize against me.” She glanced up at them. “Ethics is not so cut and dry, is it? I would have thought a person who so proudly proclaims their selfish motives would be more understanding of that, especially given our situation.”

( The pit in her stomach only grew. This is why she didn’t keep friends, and the ones she did keep had been tried through fire and brimstone. This… did not feel good. )

She looked at Seattle next, appreciative of his respect of the privacy of their discussion.

“I will not speak more, I have already spoken my peace.”

And then… back to Pip. As if she didn’t already feel as though her heart was aching enough. She winced, reaching to grab at her necklace.

( How she wished desperately to be able to comfort him like Duck, or Rookie. In truth, she envied them— not for their proximity to Pip, but because of their emotional availability. That is what he needed. Warmth. Compassion. She was nothing more than a slab of stone. )

“No one is going to vote for you, Mr. Pip. I also believe you fears are unfounded, at least in this case.” She glanced towards Gambit. “I would like to think the owl is quite content with this debacle thus far.”

She got more quiet with the next bit.

“So please, just take a step back now. You cannot save anyone. A sacrifice from you will not change our situation… it will just be a catalyst for more tragedy…”

[bounnostra]

trial 1.4 | Ivey re: pip, scourge, everything tbh

Ah, it seems as though her attempts to derail and accuse had finally started to come back to bite her.

And she couldn’t help but give a content smile about it.

( This is what she wanted, after all. She felt like she was in control, that the case was malleable putty in her hands, like the cooling Saori Steel she grew so accustomed to molding. )

She waited a bit, letting people speak to her, or at her. She did not seem in a hurry to proclaim her innocence, or accept her guilt. She let people come up with their assumptions surrounding her whereabouts, her motives, and her beliefs. She did that all with eyes closed, and hands folded neatly in front of her. She held her head at level, so that she was not looking down her nose at them when she would opened her eyes, but enough so that she did not seem vulnerable.

If there was one thing she would never want to be, especially to a group of familiar strangers, it was vulnerable.

And then… Pip spoke, and her eyes opened immediately.

The placid expression broke ever so slightly.

“Mr. Pip.”

She tried to get him to stop as he was a quarter of the way through, but her voice caught a bit.

“Mr. Pip…”

Halfway through, she still was too soft-spoken. She had trained herself to be this soft-spoken, so it was hard to—

“MR. PIP.”

Yell. And she did, but only after Pip seemed to be done himself. Her brow was knitted in a pained way, and though her expression and tone portrayed a sense of anger… she only felt a sickening worry.

“As I am… sure everyone here must know, Pip is lying. He did no such framing, nor did he do any such murder. He is simply trying to cover for me after the… increased accosting I was receiving.” She looked up at Pip, and her expression was one of frustration, and dismay. “I am… sorry for putting you in this position, but please do not willingly throw yourself under the bus, especially for me. Your ability to form connections is your boon, don’t sully that.”

She gave him a soft, comforting nod. She the turned back to the class, expression stoic and flat now.

“I will explain my relationship with Runa firstly, if it will please the courts.“

"It is true, Runa and I have crossed paths in life before coming here. For me, I consider it an unfortunate circumstance.” She took a breath. “For reasons I will not disclose, I am indebted to a witch of dubious nature. While she holds that debt over my head, she frequents my smithy, Momento Mori, due to a previously held friendship with my mentor. When she comes, she often brings her pet husky with her.”

A beat.

“…I knew the witch liked to bet upon Runa’s wrestling matches, and considered herself to be a… hm. Supplier for her. But I did not make the connection between Runa being a shapeshifter, and thus the husky I was familiar with, until I saw her changed in form on the second day of the motive. I chased after the dog believing that the witch may have been behind all of this… only to realize my folly afterwards, when I lost her in the woods after twisting my ankle.”

Ivey took a breath, scrunching up her nose.

“It is quite embarrassing. Runa had every right to fear me, though surely that doesn’t matter now. I hope the masses are content now that I have earned my dirty laundry.”

She looked to Scourge, and stared for a moment… before giving them a soft smile. They were the first to bring up the heels, yes, but she also would much rather talk directly to them than anyone else accusing her here. She quite liked them, even though she had a feeling their positive relationship might have just hit a brick wall.

“It seems many here are quite convinced I am the most suspicious, as do you. I have not done much to claim my innocence… nor do I think I have much to say that could. I have no excuse I wish to share for the shoes. Take that as you will.”

Really? That was it?

[bounnostra]

trial 1.3 | ivey re: supernaturals, boots | ATTN: cowboy

Ivey stared at Bams as she spoke, asking anyone to speak up with knowledge on Runa’s healing abilities, but remained silent as she looked away, eyes closing.

The idea of anti-supernatural sentiment being a factor within Runa’s murder caused Ivey’s brow to knit in an almost pained wince. Something about the proposition obviously did not sit well with her. 

“It has been nearly 20 years since the panic… I would like to think humans have moved passed such baseless distrust…”

It seemed as though she had some insight, but she seemed fit to say no more on the matter on her own volition.

(She made eye contact with someone across the room, eyes squinting a bit, before she glanced away.)

The next time she reacted, it was to Boots. It seemed as though Ivey was not happy with at least one of these accusations.

“Doing creepy things? I believe it would befit you to look in a mirror, Mx. Runs Up On All Fours To Smell The Corpse.” She looked to her trial mate with a hard stare. “Do not fault Mr. Orwell for his eccentricities when we all have our own, especially during these last few days.”

She hummed before turning her head to her other trial neighbor, brow quirking.

“Though you did manage to make one point during that ridiculous ramble. Forgive me if I missed it because… hu, dare I say listening to monologues is not my strong suit, but… Did anyone check the shared room of Runa and Cowboy? Perhaps it would provide insight into Runa’s mindset at the time… perhaps roommate bonding by the lakeside?”

[bounnostra]

trial 1.2 | ivey re: rookie, orwell | attn: sticks

Ivey closed her eyes again as she listened to everyone else begin to speak. Listening to others was… not a strong suit of hers, no matter how much she attempted to make it so. She found her attention drifting during the longer monologues, and only really perked up when she heard her name or something of particular interest.  

(Speaking of, that furrow upon her brow only grew when Rookie deemed necessary to air her dirty laundry, and she huffed softly to herself.) 

“Yes, well… Mx. Rookie will probably have quite the colorful pattern on his skin as well.” She winced a bit, remembering the early morning hours of that third day. “As such, relying on injury checks when we were as… hm, inebriated–” was that the correct word to use? “–as we were seems foolish.” 

She carefully avoided commenting on her and Runa’s relationship. 

Orwell’s words were the next to come, and she seemed to perk up immediately upon hearing his voice. She couldn’t help but laugh at his explanation for the items in the bath, but did not comment. When he addressed her by name, however– 

“Hu, no, Mr. Orwell, I simply meant that Runa seemed to be on good terms with people, particularly a certain few. I don’t think Runa had anything extra wrong with her. She seemed to have… hm, more heart than mind.” Rude. “So the idea of her being taken by surprise by a good friend makes sense…” 

She blinked, tired eyes giving a faint sparkle. She waited, appreciating Maverick’s addition with a soft nod. Pip, however… just got a tired, fond smile. 

She continued. 

“Oh her sticks! We mentioned how peculiar they were, correct? Now also recall when we received our memories back… when we laid eyes on Runa’s corpse.” She really seems to think she’s onto something, as she taps her cheek. “Imagine the horror a friend might find discovering what they had done. They wish to send her off with honor. The sticks, the candle– it’s like one of those– hm.” Oh what was the word? “…Nordic funerals.” 

As much as she attempted to keep up her usual charade, she hung onto her words longer, and they were a bit harder hit than usual. She seemed exhausted. 

[bounnostra]

trial 1.1 | ivey re: anastasia

Ivey was torn between desperately requesting more time, and wanting just as desperately to pull this bandage off and get this debacle started.

Luckily for her, the owl seemed impervious to reason— and a swordswoman never pleaded with the enemy.

She stood straight-backed, hands properly folded upon the table in front of her as they rose and rose. Her eyes were closed with gentleness, but those nearest to her would be able to see the beginnings of stress forming on her brow— the smallest indications of a furrow.

(Speaking of, she wasn’t much too happy with her neighbors, or at least one of them. As if this experience would not be foul enough, she now didn’t have much of an opportunity for petty whisperings with others she was at least on relatively positive terms with.)

(Positive terms… well, with the tension in the air nearly palpable, Ivey noted that could change like the flip of a dime.)

As soon as they ascended was as soon as they began, and Ivey slowly opened her eyes as voices proceeded to ring in her ears. She hummed at the words and the implications, before letting her eyes settle on Anastasia.

“Hoho, to open with a point that would thus exonerate you and your lofty abode… how crafty, Miss Anastasia!”

She chuckled, finger tapping her chin, glancing up.

“That is not to say you are incorrect, however. The logic is sound enough… though, of course, even with a private bathroom one might not want to run the risk of directly placing evidence within their place of dwelling… a place that could be connected to them and them alone.”

How surprisingly thoughtful. She nodded.

“Instead, I would like to focus on our first point— strangulation. For a wrestler of her caliber, it seems rather strange to be overpowered so. Perhaps it was not her weakness of body that did her in… but her weakness of heart.” 

And she seemed comfortable to leave it at that for now.

[bounnostra]

abnorm days | disenchanted | ivey re:body

Duty. Honor. Justice. Revenge— those were the qualities that Gambit has bestowed upon Ivey. A cacophony of noise seemed ever present in her head. It made her frustrated, it made her sweat... it made her feel like her head was going to explode at any moment, especially when the volume became too loud.

But all that settled as her hoot managed to pull her to the shoreline, Ivey lashing out at it the entire way. It seemed the longer she remained in this state— this belief of herself as some dutiful samurai of dubious origin— the more volatile she became. She had hurt people already, and it would have been only a matter of time until those injuries she inflicted became mortal—

But as she stared at the body in the boat, all that noise began to quite down. While many of the qualities remained (it seemed Gambit preferred to slightly exaggerate her preexisting beliefs instead of creating an entirely new personality), she began to recognize herself. She remembered her mentor, she remembered her smithy, she remembered her uncle, she remembered how she got her scars, she remembered the witch, and she remembered—

“...Runa.”

She did not need to look at the information file given to know her name.

And then, a sudden flash of phantom pain rushing through her whole body. Ivey winced, hand going and up to her head and she stumbled back. There was so much she was remembering, so much she would have been pleased to forget. In those few short moments, Ivey felt the threat of tears in the corner of her eyes. Fact and beliefs that she had previously buried away she felt her mind grasping for desperately— just to make sure it was there. Just to make sure she was her again. Her scars burned again.

It only lasted a few moments, and she breathed a few heavy breathes, the wind knocked out of her. She stared at Runa’s body, and her expression was not one of mourning or sympathy. It was hard, and it was cold. She fixed her posture, body straightening...

And then she turned her back on her.

[bounnostra]

chapter one | ivey&quinine | shadows die twice

[shslbladesmith]

shsl-pharma‌:

It was already the third day.

Quinine had always felt that time moved faster for her than usual, but now more than ever, the days seemed to pass in minutes. And with each new day, more memories slipped through her fingers like sand, try as she might to hold onto them. How could such a thing have been possible? 

Whatever the mechanism behind the memory loss, it felt like a death by inches. Even if Quinine’s body were to survive this mess, it would all be for naught if her mind was no longer her own.

…

She eventually found herself wandering through the trees near the lake without a clear idea of how she had gotten there. Perhaps her short-term memory was beginning to fail her as well, or perhaps she had just lost herself in her thoughts. Either way, Quinine found herself drawn to a strange, dull thudding sound somewhere in the forest. As he approached, she quickly realized that the source of the noise was Ivey – at least she hadn’t forgotten the code names of her peers just yet. 

“Miss Ivey…” 

Quinine called out, hoping to clear her head with a quick chat. Unfortunately, it looked like Ivey had other plans. When the bladesmith turned around, Quinine took a step backwards almost in unison with her movements. That sword was making her wary. She could feel her fingers twitch slightly, almost as though they were trying to grip a phantom blade of her own.

“What on earth are you talking about? Have you already forgotten who you are? No, it can’t be. Perhaps you’ve been neglecting to eat or sleep… here, if you come with me, I’m sure we can find something to bring you to your senses.”

Quinine took a step towards Ivey, extending a hand boldly. Though her words suggested a sort of no-nonsense confidence, her eyes seemed more tired and uncertain than they had been only a few days ago. 

Ivey did not seem swayed. In fact, if Quinine’s words proved to do anything to the bladesmith, it was to make her only more incredulous and unhinged. 

(She would never agree she was unhinged, no. She was in complete control, as a samurai should always be. Her mind was focused, and her arm ready to strike--) 

And strike she did. It was nothing more than a warning slice, however. As Quinine took that bold step forward, so did Ivey, sword cutting through the air across the front of her body. Her brows were knitted hard enough it seemed painful and her gaze sharply pointed. 

She gave a lopsided smile. 

“Hoh! Forgotten myself! Nay, I am seeing more clearly now than ever before. Before I was without honor, pathetic-- a self-deprecating carrion pile of a woman. My everything was a lock and chain holding back the spirit slumbering in my bosom. The spirit of a legionnaire-- one whom will not falter or fail in her duties.” 

She placed a hand on her chest, closing her eyes.

“Our esteemed host has already brought me to my senses. I need not your outstretched hand.”

She paused, looking up with heavy eyes. 

“...unless perhaps, it was you who came here seeking mine?” 

<continued in private!>  

[bounnostra]

chapter one | ivey&quinine | shadows die twice

Day three. Time was proceeding as linear as it ever had despite the ragged spiral their memories were experiencing– mixing, twisting, morphing, or just disappearing entirely. 

Ivey knew this still. Despite it all, the bird allowed her to maintain her knowledge of the motive and the knowledge that he wished for death and drama, at least thus far. She had told herself thus: just as she was not to trust his incongruous words and promises, she was not to trust her own mind. What she remembered would be illusion and what she believed would be a fallacy. 

But, despite that, despite all those self reassurances over the last two day, it all just felt so… real. 

And it was in that short moment of faltering, of believing in the lies of Gambit’s creation, that she fell. 

– 

She disappeared that morning, and it wasn’t until the dull banging of wood echoed from the forest by the lake that she made her presence known again. 

Practice, she told herself, you must practice. For your safety, for her honor. 

Which is how Quinine came upon her slamming the body of her sword against the truck of a rather imposing oak, leaving sap-bleeding wounds across it despite the obvious dullness of the weapon. She was silent in her swings, letting out no more than a soft grunt as her impacts sprayed bark across the ground. 

But as Quinine approached, she paused, leaning forward with her sword still in the bark, grip tightening. 

“Huhu, like a ghost of the grove, stalking forward with serpentine softness… perhaps to interrupt my coppice with one of her own? To cut me down so that the rest of our ilk may growth forth from this single sacrifice?” 

Well, Gambit certainly did a number on her. 

She turn with a sudden quickness, sword held straight armed at her side. 

“Unfortunately, I will not just roll belly up… Miss Quinine. Your ambition is merely a catalyst. If you wish to become our hero, my steel waits to test you.” 

Did… she think she was some sort of video game character?? Samurai?? Gods have mercy.

[bounnostra]

chapter one | ivey | what a fucking mess [OPEN]

The air was surprisingly still on the early afternoon of the second day.

How unfortunate for Ivey then, who’s sweaty face would have appreciated nothing more than a nice cool breeze upon it as she exited the bowels of the forest, leaning on her sheathed sword like a crutch.

If her expression was anything to go by, it seems the chase she had been giving did not go as she had hoped… and this thought was only further confirmed as it was notice she had taken her shoes off, the heel of one dangling off like it was ready to detach any moment.

She grunted as she finally found herself out in the open again by the stables, limping slowly to a stop. Her mind was a whirl of frustration and embarrassment. It was Gambit’s fashion sense which caused such a sour end to her pursuit, she tried to tell herself. If it were not for his obsession with dressing her in only the most inconvenient footwear, then her heel would not have gotten caught and snapped in a patch of soft soil. She never would have felt the pain of a twisted ankle, and that beast… oh, it would have been hers to interrogate!

“…what a horrible morning.”

She sighs loudly as she lets herself slide down to the ground, hand still using her sheath as an anchor as she does. There was no attempts at gentle smiles or impish laughs. There was no front she was ready to put up should anyone approach.

She just looked… exhausted.

Will you approach?

>Y/N

[bounnostra]

Can We Never Get A Quiet Morning? | Part 1 | ATTN: EVERYONE

It would be mid-morning on the second day. 

By that time, your mind had certainly begun to feel tampered with. You’d be finding yourself with holes where you were certain someone should be, memories of solo excursions you knew you shared with another, and nights spent crying over nothing instead of the loss of someone very important to you. It was all very unsettling, and made you feel woozy. 

Perhaps then, if you were by the lobby area at the time, you’d try to push off the first bit of yelling as a trick of the mind. 

“YOU CHURLISH HOUND! YOU WILL STAY YOUR PAWS THIS VERY MOMENT–” 

But it’s hard to continue to ignore it further once you hear the sound of banging, and of furniture being slammed into. If you investigate further, you see… 

A flash of ruddy red and white? It looked like a medium-sized animal, but it moved with too much speed to be discerned by your eye. The woman who followed, on the other hand, was immediately recognizable– 

“YOUR MASTER’S PLOYS ARE FOR NAUGHT! I WILL END THAT WITCH BY THE EDGE OF MY STEEL!” 

Yeah, that was definitely Ivey. Following after the blur with a fucking sword in hand. Unsheathed. 

No wonder the thing was sprinting so fast. 

They both exited out the open back door of the hotel, and the chase continued. Back past the tennis courts, and the stables… until both figures disappeared into the forest. 

…just another typical morning in the Great Gambino! 

[bounnostra]

chapter 1 ⟨ lift off! ⟩ 👽 + ivey

Sports? He’s heard of them! He saw footage of it once, but he can’t say he’s ever participated.

– That’s probably really obvious given the sight of him at the present. We’ll establish this: Orwell has no idea what tennis is. He has no idea that the instrument in his hand is called a ‘racket.’ He also has no idea that he’s actually pretty on the mark by tossing the ball into the air and, uh–

“Oh my!”

… – Nearly hits the oncoming Ivey as he serves the ball over the net with a swing that’s a bit too enthusiastic!

“I-I-I–…”

He sounds genuinely flustered as he makes his way over to the other.

“Are you alright? You are unhurt? I did not see the ball make contact, but I apologize nonetheless!”

He’s waving his arms around, as if he’s trying to decide what to do.

“I– these… sports I have heard they are dangerous, but I –! I should have been… much more careful, especially considering it is not as if I did not see you and, I, ah-”

[shslbladesmith]

Ivey was not much one for organized sports. 

Baseball left a sour taste in her mouth. Basketball was too simple. Women’s football was interesting, but she didn’t like having to pay for obscure sports networks to have the chance to watch it...

So her coming to the tennis courts? Definitely more curiosity driven than excitement driven. She was even more curious when she saw their local alien friend examining the wears, and giving things a try. She went to raise a hand--

Thankfully, her general lack of interest in sports did not negate her athletic abilities, or her reflexes! As the ball came whizzing at her, Ivey blinked and coolly sidestepped. She watched it bounce off the far wall and come back towards her before glancing to Orwell, chuckling and waving her hand a bit. 

“A few inches closer and I would have been having the Intergalactic Interpol paying all of my medical bills from now until the future, hoho! But, thankfully, nothing happened... so please don’t worry yourself, Mr. Orwell.” 

She smiled at him, and bent down to get the tennis ball, tossing it up casually before catching it again. 

“I believe it is the latent danger and physical demands of sports that make them so appealing to humans. In the past, death was a lot more common...” She sighed wistfully. “I still think challenging a man to a good ol’ fashioned duel to the death would make great sport, don’t you?” 

She gave Orwell a serious look, before it broke and she chuckled. A obvious, bad joke. She moved to toss the tennis ball in his direction.

“Tennis is one of the safer sports, I would say, though I can’t say I remember ever playing...” Her eyes glittered a bit. “Would you like to learn together?” 

[bounnostra]

normdays | ivey&scourge | what’s up, dock?

Sometimes, when you suddenly find yourself thrust into the midst of gang warfare with a group of people who are no better than strangers to you, you just want to find some peace, quiet, and serenity to combat that! 

Ivey found herself desiring this distraction now. It had been at least a day since Gambit’s appearance, and she had the time to cool off. She had now gotten into the outfit that had been designated “SWIMSET” for her– a tasteful, cherry patterned one-piece with an open back, halter top and skirt bottom, a long cover up with flared arms, flat platform sandals that clasped around the ankles, and a large, floppy sunhat. She knew she was not safe to rest in her own room, not when Pip had a key and could start a surprise wrestling match at any time. 

Besides, she felt cute in this! Perhaps her large back scar and tattoos would be in full view, but this wasn’t a business venture anymore. Expectations be damned! Sometimes a woman just wants to feel good about herself! 

That’s how she found herself heading down to the lake, blanket she stole from her room rolled and tucked under her arm. Did she know if the lake actually had a good place to rest or swim? Nope! But perhaps if she was confident and optimistic enough, she could will it into existence. Or maybe she was just a little desperate. 

Ah well. 

Luckily, there was a beach, and seemingly ample place for a relaxing swim! However, it didn’t seem she was the only person here… though the other body she found standing on the dock did not bring her ire or disappointment. 

“Mx. Scourge!” 

She waved and placed her blanket unceremoniously onto the sandy shore before making her way onto the dock… and then about 40 feet out, regretted it as the whole thing as her balance wavered. and she threw her arms out to the sides as the dock creaked and shifted.  

She looked embarrassed. 

“These, ah… shoes were not built for balance, it seems.” 

[bounnostra]

prologue | IVEY | down the rabbit hole [wake up, re: MAVERICK]

[shslbladesmith]

shots-inthedark‌:

Oh, now that’s a good question. Maverick’s frown deepens and he looks away from Ivey, off into some kind of distance past the cubbies. “I don’t think I am suffering from amnesia,” he says very seriously after putting a moment of thought into it. “But I am not sure if I would remember having amnesia. That’s what amnesia does, after all.”

He looks back at Ivey, frown gone now. “No, I am only asking because I have a lot of weird names in my head and I’m not sure which is supposed to be me!” He rolls the name around on his tongue. “Maverick, Maverick… Hmm. I guess it’s alright. And you’re… Ivey, right?”

He’s still lying on the counter, not really interested in moving just yet, but he knows he’s going to have to go get that box he knocked over sooner or later.

Ivey chuckled, reaching up to brush her bangs out of her eyes. 

“Hoho, good point! That’s a bit of a conundrum, isn’t it? How do you know you’re missing memories without having the memories left to miss?” She tilted her head, glancing upwards. “Surely, I guess, huge holes in linear time would stick out, but who’s to say time is actually linear? Perhaps we’re only remembering what is convenient for our brains to make sense of in this vast universe.” 

What the hell was she saying? It’s likely not even Ivey knew, but she thought it sounded introspective. She looked back at Maverick and smiled as she lifts her legs up and spins her body so that her legs could hang over the opposite side. 

“Ivey is the name that seems more personal to me, so it would seem that is indeed what I’m to be called in this place. I can’t say I’m sure where it came from, however. I’ve never been much of a green thumb... more like I possess hands of cast iron--” 

She hopped down on the other side of the counter, picking up the box that Maverick dropped, tapping it against the counter a few times.

“--they’re wonderful for hammering motel metal, but never quite learned gentleness.” 

She then turned to look for her own. 

“Maverick, though... that’s quite the codename! Would you consider yourself a rule breaker?” Oh no. “A game changer?” Oh no.