off giggle's retreat ...
damask inhaled, tracing that dark silhouette until it had fallen off her visual map; and even as she turned away, she attended to the one-two cadence of her grandmother's gait, counting the strides. step by step, further and further, the sound abated into silence. out of sight, out of earshot. we're good. she let out her breath in a great, heaving shudder.
starting to feel it, huh? these next two weeks? how bad they're gonna be? oh, yeah.
she steeled herself and looked out at the sprawling landscape before her. there it was, the core at large: the winding course of the river; the generator, visible from here as a whirring glitch in the current; and over it all, the spire, with formations of crystal scattered in between. somehow, now — knowing how long she'd be more or less stuck here — it didn't feel like the candyland paradise it had once been.
she rapped a drumbeat into the jasper with her talons, restless and twitchy, holding her exhaustion at bay. easier than expected, actually. it's the energy here. it had her wired, circuits aglow with artificial electricity, even as burnout encroached. this vigil, this ... vacation — it'd be a good opportunity to work on her spells, at least — yeah? plenty of time to herself, and not much else to do with it. and why not now? keep her busy. keep her awake. she wouldn't sleep until her grandmother was well and truly gone, anyway. a furtive glance, thrown over her shoulder: gotta keep this one on the down low. nothing loud while giggle's around. she leaned into the wind, breathed in, felt for a thrum; and found one — tentative, as she was, but ready nonetheless.
"testing," damask whispered — and then, once more, with a push of magic: "testing." her normal voice, but dialed down to the same, small volume. it crackled in places, as though filtered through an old radio. progressively quieter, this time, almost inaudible by the end ... "one, two, three." again, quietly, with a stroke of her claws on each number. "one," (tap,) "two," (tap,) "three." (tap.) she could match the sounds well enough to muffle them, but it wouldn't quite cancel out. that'd take some practice. now — that other thing. she drew out her voice in a steady, wordless hum; held it, tweaking it, sliding the pitch. first, up high. ah, way too shrill. she brought it back down to her default, and then ... all right, easy does it ... a little lower. oh, man —
at which point, the spell cut out, and she was left humming at nobody. you know, like an idiot.
what are you doing, damask? she started — quelling herself with a barking cough, her chest abruptly in pain, stomach just as suddenly sick — panting, panting, panting. ferociously chastened. feel that? that's what happens when you mess around on barely any sleep. you're so tired, you're out of your mind — it's making you stupid. flinch. you that set on waiting 'til giggle's gone? then do it. stand there and wait. the accipiter nodded numbly to herself. yes. right. okay. her weight shifted from side to side, shoulders hiked up to her ears as she shivered.
the taste of iron lingered in her mouth.
