Open ♫ if you sneeze, a butterfly in a forest somewhere will dance

[fairysong]

Who: Sheryl Nome and anyone else! Including you. Especially you.
Where: All through the temple.
When: Arrival / sickness event
Rating PG13+, warning for mild nudity
What: Sheryl ain't down with the sickness.

[Week One:]

[It's silly to be worried about this. Sheryl knows that. She knows that her V-Type Infection had progressed to a stage where the symptoms were completely different from this; even if Ranka hadn't cured her, a resurgence would feel completely differently. And everyone else is sick, too. This can't be the disease that nearly killed her.

A part of her brain is completely ignoring all that logic and reason, though. These symptoms are like what she'd first felt, after all. And there's that tiny nagging voice that she can't banish, constantly asking her: What if? What if Ranka had just delayed her death? What if everyone else has one thing, but she has another?

It's a stupid, irrational thought, and she can't banish it. So Sheryl deals with the deep-seated panic the best way she knows how: She throws herself into her music.

The only trouble is that this lingering headache and stuffiness makes it so very hard to write lyrics. So you'll find a young woman sitting at a table in the kitchen with a pencil and a torn sheet of paper that's full of scribbled out words. Most of them are crossed out. Sheryl is looking very frustrated-- and then she turns, pointing the end of the pencil at you.] You!

...what rhymes with "forest"?

[Week Two:]

[It got worse. It got much worse.

The good news is that Sheryl is now fairly certain that this isn't her V-Type Infection coming back; the symptoms have progressed in a completely different way.

That's the only good news. Sheryl feels like shit. She hasn't experienced the hallucinations that she's heard other people dealing with, which she's thankful for, but a violent fever and everything else that comes with it isn't much better.

The worst is that she constantly feels like she's just burning up, across her entire body, and since the bathing area is communal here, she hasn't figured out how to take a cold shower or bath to try and counteract it. Still, she's a resourceful young woman.

In the hallways just outside of the bathing area, you'll come across Sheryl with a rolled-up wet towel draped around her neck and over her shoulders. Though the towel hangs down in front of her chest, it is very clear that she is not wearing a shirt. Still, any potential sexiness is blunted by the fact that Sheryl looks rough and completely exhausted.

She's just too drained to give a shit about this right now. She does glance in your direction, though, and speaks in a slow voice that sounds impossibly tired.]

Can't a girl get some privacy around here...?

[Week Three:]

[Again, there's good news and there's bad news. The good news is that she feels much, much better than before. No fever, no chills, no cold sweats, no trembling.

The bad news is that she can't see.

In a place where she still doesn't know anybody that well, she's reluctant to ask someone for help like she might someone she trusts, like Alto or Ranka. Which means Sheryl is moving slowly around the temple, one hand on the walls at all time, dark glasses on even in the middle of the night.

At some point leaving the kitchen area, you might hear a girl's voice yelp in pain. If you investigate, you'll find Sheryl doubled over, rubbing at one of her shins and hissing obscenities through her teeth.

When she hears footsteps, she straightens up abruptly.] Ah... someone must've moved that chair, I don't think it was there before!

[It's an odd excuse, mainly because she'd just run into a bench, and you're pretty sure the bench has always been there that whole time. Also, she's not looking directly at you, but also a little off to the side.

A little suspicious.]

Comments

[fairysong]

Foraging, huh... this really is a trip out to the sticks, isn't it?

[She leans against the wall, lyrics notebook in hand.] I don't suppose we can forage our way to a supermarket?

[resistivity]

( 'supermarket' isn't really an avatar concept, but he can guess at what she means by context clues. it makes him huff an amused breath out as he dumps meat into the pan. the sizzle and spit of it means the pot's gotten a bit too hot, so he automatically reaches to touch the flames and. then stops abruptly in the moment before he's burned by it. he can't do that anymore. instead, he has to adjust it manually, the normal way.

it stings, but he's getting used to it. and so he gives her a sideways glance. )

Not that I've seen. Have you been far from the temple yet?

[fairysong]

I just got here and suddenly everyone's got the plague. It didn't seem like the best time to be playing explorer... [She trails off, her gaze still on the fire that it looked like he'd been about to touch?]

You know fire burns things, right? That's still a thing that happens here, even on a backwater planet like this.

[resistivity]

( his fingers ruck up against his palm when she says that, as if he's almost trying to retroactively hide the gesture. he doesn't really want to talk about firebending or the loss thereof with a total stranger. but there's also no point to lying about it or omitting it. there's a rather intense moment of internal debate while he salts and stirs the meat, and then, )

Back home, I could manipulate fire. Old habits.

[fairysong]

[That's... odd. Interesting. Odd.] You don't mean like with a lighter, do you. [It isn't a question. Some sort of magic power?]

I suppose I should be thankful that I didn't lose anything like that, coming here.

[resistivity]

No. Here —

( he has a few rocks in his pocket. he's been practicing in his down time, honing his fine control. he pulls them out and shapes them with a flick of his wrist into an earthen disc, and then back to an amorphous blob of dirt, and then compressed into a hard rock. it's evident that this is sort of... the least of what he can do. even in this, there's a surety and a power to him that speaks to more. )

Like that, but with fire. This is earthbending, it's what I got when I arrived.

( earthbending is still a familiar presence in his life, for all that he favored fire. it's a hard shift, but not especially one he'd rail against. other people have it worse. but he does tip his head at her. )

Have you noticed any new abilities since you showed up? Apparently Astoria is supposed to give them out whether or not you had anything back home.

[fairysong]

[Huh.

Honestly, that practiced surety and confidence is almost equally as impressive as the actual mechanics of it.

Almost.] That's a pretty neat trick. You seem pretty confident in it for something you just got since coming here.

They gave me something different. [She waves her finger in the air, and that sure is the opening riffs of a song playing from... nowhere in particular.

She waves her finger again, and it ends.] I won't be building any walls anytime soon, but I'm satisfied with it.

[resistivity]

( the praise just serves to make him a bit self-conscious about it. he shrugs absently, and the rocks get pocketed again as he gets back to work at the stove. )

It's still something from my world. I'd be out of my depth if I had to adjust to something else entirely.

( mako's a workaholic at heart. the man sleeps under his work desk, for crying out loud. even if he would have gotten some other ability, he'd be on track to master it as well.

the music makes him raise an eyebrow. it's not like anything he's heard in republic city, strange instrumentation and cadences. )

You're a songwriter, right? It suits you.

[fairysong]

Mmm-hmm. That's one of mine, actually~ [There's pride in her voice, sure, but it's more confidence. She's talented, and she knows it, and doesn't know if other people know it, too.]

Do you miss it? Your fire-whatsis. Spinning rocks probably isn't the same.

[resistivity]

( well, bolin's really the only performer he knows. mako has a certain showmanship to him, leftovers from his pro-bending days, but he doesn't really like the center stage.

still, he can recognize the pride of workmanship when he sees it, and she gets an acknowledging nod. )

Sounds nice.

( he is The Best at girls. )

And, uh. I mean... Yeah. But I'm not going to complain about it. We're all in the same boat.

[fairysong]

[Whoops, I meant "doesn't care if other people know it." I can write.

She shrugs.] Not all of us. I didn't have any special powers back home, so it's not like I lost anything here other than some... creature comforts?

[Bath bombs. She misses bath bombs.

Her stomach rumbles again, audibly.] Do you do a lot of cooking back home, then?

[resistivity]

( mako, wordlessly, sets about peeling an apple (he uses earthbending to help him out, because it is extraordinarily hard with only one usable hand) and then he puts it on a plate and sets it down in front of her, neatly sliced. eat something, will you? )

Yeah. It was just me and my brother. I guess I just sort of gravitated towards it between the two of us.

( mostly it was the fact that bolin was six and mako needed to learn how to feed him somehow. and then it just... never changed as they got older. )

[fairysong]

[She hates charity. It hurts her pride.

But she is also very, very hungry right now. So Sheryl reaches out to take a slice of apple and pops it into her mouth while he speaks.

Oh. It's sweet.] Just you and your brother? For how long?

[Implied is what she thinks he's getting at: No parents.]

[resistivity]

( he's past that age where he'd just spill his life story to the first sympathetic ear that fell (drove, in asami's case) into his existence. he doesn't mind talking about it because like it or not, it's his reality, but he's also uncomfortable with a stranger's sympathy.

he lifts his good shoulder in a shrug. )

Long enough. What about you, any siblings?

( let's just steer that line of questioning in a different direction, shall we? )

[fairysong]

[She can tell an evasive answer when she sees one-- or at least one that doesn't seem inclined to elaborate further-- so she doesn't press the conversation.

Of course, her own situation is somewhat similar. She shakes her head.] Nope. It's always just been only me. [As in, only her. No siblings, no parents, no home, for far too much of her childhood.

He doesn't need to know that, though, and she keeps her tone breezy and nonchalant as she pops another slice of apple into her mouth.] Still, I've never been much of a cook, so you've got that going for you~

[resistivity]

( no don't compliment him don't do it. it's not even a real compliment so much as compliment-adjacent but. still. he's weak to that. it's like she rolled a nat 20 against his constitution or something.

mako just sort of. twitches. and starts in on the rest of the meal. once it's simmering, he's free to do the dishes. the mist servants could do it, theoretically speaking, but there's something therapeutic to be had in doing it yourself. )

It's not like it's hard to learn.

[fairysong]

Oh, I've tried, I'm just not very good at it. [She holds up her hand, inspecting her fingers.] I used to have some knife scars from mishaps chopping vegetables, but they've healed. Best to leave it to people who know what they're doing, right?

Besides, we've all got our strengths. You can cook and do-- that little thing you just did. I can do other things.

[resistivity]

( it sounds more like learned helplessness to him. he refuses to believe there are people who can't learn the fundamental basics of it — it's just survival. it's not about being good at it, it's about not starving to death.

he gives her a sidelong glance. )

Like that trick with the music?

[fairysong]

[She just scrounged, really. And then she had people to do it for her.] Like that trick with the music.

Which I couldn't do back home. I did it the old-fashioned way, though.

[resistivity]

So... singer/songwriter, then? You perform?

( the food is more-or-less done, so mako takes two earthenware bowls that seem just a little too rough to have been mass-produced (spoilers: he made them himself) and fills both up. one gets deposited in front of her, the other is put down across the table from her, where he shortly sits. )

[fairysong]

Mm-hmm. A pretty good one, too, if I do say so-- [She trails off when the bowl is set in front of her.

For all her loitering around here, she hadn't actually expected this, and it shows in the expression on her face.]

Oh, you--

You didn't have to do that. I was just making small talk and enjoying how it smelled.

[resistivity]

( he shrugs, a little uncomfortably. )

It's no big deal. I made extra anyway.

( it's not like he can be out hitting the streets solving crime and catching bad guys. this is as close as he can get right now, especially with his arm still badly injured, to anything like helping. even if it's just making a difference for one person, he's going to try.

he's a lot less... self-centered than he used to be. when the only people he really had to worry about or concern himself with were those immediately around him. he's expanded his way of thinking, thrown wide the net of his protection and care. weirdly, in a lot of ways, wu made him a better person that way. having to look after him and babysit him and keep him out of trouble made him realize that as much as he complains... he genuinely does enjoy looking out for others. he'd always thought that was just a side effect of growing up the way he did, having bolin to worry about, but. now he's thinking it might just be... who he is. )

[fairysong]

[On the one hand, she doesn't like being pitied. At all.

On the other, she really is very hungry. And this doesn't seem like pity, right? He's just being... nice.

Sheryl reaches out to take the bowl with both hands, picking it up. It smells incredible.] If you're hoping to get backstage tickets to my next show, I think you'll be waiting a while.

What's your name?

[resistivity]

( he laughs a little. )

I'd pass anyway. I'm not much for public venues. Cop thing.

( he's always thinking about how things can go wrong in a crowd. )

And, ah. I'm Mako.

[fairysong]

That's a shame. After a Sheryl Nome concert, it's all anyone can talk about for at least a week. [She says with a smile and a little shrug.]

Being a cop means you're not allowed to relax, now?