itscurtains | Week One

[Yesterday, everyone woke up in a strange place and realized that they'd been kidnapped, and also that everyone else around them may or may not be kinnies? Wow, what a weird escalation of kin drama! Given what some people have seen of Spongebob's freaky arm thing, though, maybe it's not that at all?

Your Assistant Director, Hester, showed off her stuff and immediately had her life threatened by Lumpy Space Princess, who got her life threatened right back. Maybe you should keep that in mind if you decide to pay Hester any more visits! She won't be making another public appearance this week, but as promised, she'll be available for visits and consultation in the Principal's Office during business hours.

If you don't want to chat with Hester, there's always the school to explore! Some of you might also be receiving mysterious coins next to your bedside this week - those must be useful for something, right? There's lots to do, and you all seem like a group who can make your own fun, so enjoy your first week of school!]

Monday | Tuesday | Wednesday | Thursday | Friday | Saturday

(( OOC: This will be the last mod post for this week! Feel free to start submitting regains for any threads that aren't with Hester. Remember, song threads mean an extra coin! This is a peace week, so get all that CR while you can! ))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[To Cassandra, her words were merely a fact of life. For most of her adult life, Cassandra had been a member of the castle staff; she was useful, reliably tending to her duties as a handmaiden... Even without the gusto some women took to it... Heck with them. She could wash linins and teach princess-y things just as well as the others. Helping people, in the end, was what she wanted to do most.]

That's the spirit. You're already doing the first part.

[She reaches across the counter for a fresh bread loaf, sleeves rolled up to her elbows already. Elsa will see that Cassandra's arms are toned and just as pale as the rest of her complexion.

Most notable are the scars. Stretching from just below her wrist, to the tip of her middle finger, are scars akin to a burn. Her hand is wrapped in the faint lines, darkening it. Just slightly.]

[Elsa had been watching intently; she's a good student, really! Which means she needs to make sure she does whatever Cassandra does. That means that, when Cassandra rolls her sleeves up... it's easy for Elsa to notice the scars on her hand.]

Oh, Cassandra... are you okay?

[Cassandra said she wanted to be a guard when they first met. Elsa assumes, then, that this must be from some sort of training accident, or a fight gone wrong.]

[Cassandra blinks, her hand frozen in the air. Minute twitches run along the tips of her fingers before her hand curls into a fist.]

Oh. Right.

[She retracts it, rubbing the back of her hand with the other one. Nobody had really asked about it. Sometimes, she forgot it was even like that.]

This is from an accident on the road, that's all. Trust me, it looks worse than it feels.

[And yet, her hand clenches.]

[Elsa cringes; not because of the look of the marks on Cassandra's hand, but because she can't imagine how much such an injury must have hurt. How much it still must hurt, considering that it's Cassandra's dominant hand. Maybe... maybe she can help somehow...]

You say that, but... does it still hurt?

[Interestingly, Elsa - and the rest of their fellow captives - have probably seen Cassandra shift back and forth from her dominant to her left hand. It's a practiced thing; she's trained her non-dominant to handle things almost as well, if with a few slips. That's fine. It was just like her right hand now.

Cassandra's gaze turns downcast, looking over the hand itself. She turns it over, fingers flexing, curling in and out. Leathery skin stretched where it was burned the hottest. She could still feel it. The fire, magical in nature, eating at her arm, searing straight through her glove.]

...Sometimes. [It's difficult to admit to Elsa. The words won't flow easily.] It's fine on some days, other days... it hurts.

[But... Rapunzel understood her feelings. They'd come to an understanding, hadn't they?

I've come to terms with it.

[Elsa won't push. How could she, when it's clear how conflicted Cassandra is over this? She's not really sure what happened - she's no warrior, so she can't tell what could make those sorts of scars - but she can tell that whatever it was... it's not just the physical pain that's plaguing Cassandra. There has to be more.

Maybe one day the other woman will tell her. Elsa would be willing to listen then. But until that day comes, she'll be patient. Perhaps she could do more than just stand by and wait for Cassandra to talk, though...]

Can I... try something? I don't know how much it could help, but... maybe it could ease the pain for a while.

[Cassandra wasn't lying when she said she'd come to terms with the injury of her hand. She had, if even more resolutely; from the moment they'd exited the Great Tree, she wanted to push it out of her mind, which was only made worse by Rapunzel's constant insistence that she had to talk about it, while brushing off blame. That ached, like a stab to her chest - almost as bad as her hand felt as it burned. But they'd reached a conclusion on it, they could move past it.

Couldn't they?

Rapunzel wasn't here, though. Elsa was, the queen of Arendelle, magic-user, offering to help. Could she tell her? Would she listen? Was it really so easy as to hold out her hand...? She has no way of knowing for certain.

And yet... Cassandra nods, sparing one last glance at her palm before holding it out for Elsa. Her fingers like claws, blackened and thin.]

[Elsa's face twists, but it's not a look of disgust; she looks... hurt. Like seeing Cassandra's hand is causing her pain as much as it does Cassandra. She can't imagine how terrible it must have been... especially for a woman like this, who puts so much of herself into wanting to protect others.]

You can pull away any time. Nothing will hurt you if it's interrupted.

[Ever so gently, giving Cassandra enough time to pull away if she wants, Elsa cups the blackened hand in her own. There's a beat, then her own hands glow with a soft blue-white light, as little flurries swirl around them. A soothing coolness washes over the ruined skin of Cassandra's hand; it's not cold enough to bite or sting, but it's enough that the feeling of relief sinks deeper, into the ache of her muscles.

It's no healing magic, but Elsa's doing her best to soothe the lingering injuries. That, maybe, could help. Just a little.]

[Cassandra doesn't answer, only gives a curt nod. If it hurts... well, could it be worse than what caused her burnt hand in the first place? Seeing as Elsa wished to help - she wasn't sure how - if anything started to hurt, she would make it known.

Waiting, watching, Cassandra lets her hand rest between Elsa's. They're smooth and soft, nothing like hers; all roughed and calloused from years of hard work, etched with scars from minute slivers cast off of clashing swords. Even the darkened skin of her other hand felt familiar. It was still her, underneath it all.

Then, Elsa's hands start to glow. Rather than the warm yellows she's seen before, or the hardened blue of magic stone, this was still blue, yet... softer. Not cold, cool. Like dipping her hand in a river, letting the currents wrap their way around it. It's soothing.]

Whoa.

[Cassandra breathes out, her shoulders slowly relax. She makes no move to stop Elsa.]

[Elsa doesn't even notice the way Cassandra is watching her. She's focused on the hand held between hers, keeping the level of her magic constant so it continues to soothe rather than chill. She even lets a few little trails of frost gather on her hand, over where the scarring seems to be a little bit rougher. Some of the worse patches, perhaps? Where the injury goes a little deeper? She's no healer, but she just sort of assumes those areas might need a little extra attention.]

How does it feel?

[This isn't healing, but it is. In a sense, anyway. The cooling magic that courses through her hand won't miraculously whisk the scars away - Cassandra knows that well enough - but the intent behind it is... heartwarming, all on its own.

By the end, Cassandra's hand may look the same, but it feels...]

Feels good. I don't feel any pain right now. [She turns it over, testing her fingers. Elsa receives a light smile with warmth behind it.] Thanks, Elsa.

Edited 2021-06-19 03:56 (UTC)

[Ah. There's a warm spot in her chest at that smile...]

You're welcome. If you'd like me to do that again in the future, just let me go. [She returns Cassandra's smile with one of her own.] I'm just... glad I could help ease your pain, at least a little.

[It's interesting, how her hand is covered with a sheen of ice, a glove of frost, chilling her wounds, but not freezing her. The ache in her fingers, which had already improved it seemed, was almost nonexistent.]

It helps. Really, thanks. I appreciate it.

Week One

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