(closed) august event catch-all

[bloomly]

WHO: aerith (bloomly) & others
WHAT: august event starters
WHERE: the mall
WHEN: during event
WARNINGS: creepy things, possible mentions of experimentation, etc.

event starters down below! if you'd like to plot something out, please feel free to hit up her plotting comment. i'm happy to write additional starters as needed.

Comments

closed — mollymocks

[bloomly]

( hands shaking, her fingers rifle through one plastic bin after another, reading the names on the bags aloud to herself: lavender, peppermint, ginger. it would soothe her nerves, probably, if she could tear open one of these elaborate bags of tea herself, dunk it into a cup of scalding hot water, and wash away all her nerves and fear; but then what would happen to it all? it's not like it would dissolve away, disappear down into nothing--rather, it would settle like a rock at the pit of her stomach, something she wouldn't be able to just ignore or wipe away. with another trembling breath, she stops moving.

get a grip on yourself. what are you even doing here?

this isn't the sort of face she shows to just anyone: in fact, it's because this shop is so empty, dark and gloomy like the rest of the mall she's been around, that she feels like she can drop the cheerful chirping and gentle teasing. for one stark moment, she allows herself to feel the fear, feel the chaos, feel the discomfort of being here, alone, without any of her friends to depend on. surely they're safer not being in this city, but even so--

no. that's enough time spent mulling over things she can't change. with a soft breath, she resumes her pickpocketing. slung onto her elbow is an open tote bag, something she 'borrowed' from another shop--already it has some basic medical supplies at the bottom, bandaids and bandages she found at some upscale makeup shop--and she's gently, methodically, plucking a few tea bags from each little case she goes through, stuffing them down into her bag. they might not help her feel calm, but the herbs and the plants crushed inside the bags could be helpful.

she's about to turn and size up the register counter, wondering if she should climb over it, when the faint light from the hallway beyond the shop shimmers, flickers, like it's caught movement. immediately she swings around, hands held up in front of her as though she could summon up her staff or fire off a shot with materia; there's not much she's got now other than her fists, but she doesn't recognize the person that comes into the shop, doesn't find anything about them that triggers her worry.

she looks like a mess on her end: her braids are all loose, bangs swept and swimming around her face; her dress is a little torn at the bottom, the hem coming loose, and there's a dried mat of blood around one elbow, beading that's trickled down her forearm. )

Sorry. ( there's a forced cheerfulness to her voice, but her smile is strained in the dark. ) I thought I'd take some tea for the road, but do you believe it, there's no hot water...

( that's something of a lie. sort of. )

[mollymocks]

[ Molly, frankly, isn't looking a whole lot better even if he's not quite as visibly disheveled. His dangling jewelry is a bit tangled and there's a strangely neat line of blood cutting across the snake tattoo on his forearm, but mostly at the moment he just has a bit of an aura of pure exhaustion. Seems he's not the only one.

He still manages to summon up a smile for her in turn, almost instinctive in the face of someone who looks like he feels. Darkvision means he can see better than most in the inadequate lightly, and that's not an expression he likes the look of at all. ]

Not to worry, darling, I won't tell.

[ He glances around briefly, almost conspiratorially despite the complete lack of anyone else in the area, before leaning in to impart a secret. ]

Tell the truth, I came to see if there was anything here a bit stronger than tea, if you catch my meaning.

[ Is that true? Hardly matters. Though finding something like that would be nice, really. ]

[bloomly]

( there’s almost an immediate relief at his kindness—enough that she laughs a little, despite herself, lifting up one smudged hand to push her bangs away from her forehead.

he doesn’t look much better than she does, and immediately she thinks that she should look him over for any lasting damage; there’s not much of her magic left inside of her, but there’s enough, and she has enough stamina for now to help if he needs it. with a gesture of the same hand, she points out the counter: and beyond. )

I haven’t checked everything yet, so you might be in luck. ( what else could he be looking for? medicine, drugs—-liquor? it makes her chuckle a little despite herself. ) Do you have a particular flavor you’re looking for?

( her voice pitches up a little, helpful, as though she’s now become the staff of this shop, beaming despite her exhaustion. )

I’m happy to help you find anything you’re looking for, sir.

[mollymocks]

Oh?

[ If that's how this is going to go then Molly is delighted to play along. There's something to be said about getting a chance to ignore literally everything else going on right now.

He straightens up slightly to give her his best considering patron look as he settles into character, one hand coming up to tap his fingers thoughtfully against his lips. No reason not to do the thing properly. Or overdo it, come to that. ]

Would the young lady have any recommendations, then?

[ Does she even know what all this is? No matter, that's not the game at hand. ]

[bloomly]

Of course! Recommendations.

( she has none. but of course, as a good staff member, she should have something already prepared, and at the very least, she can read the labels--barely--under each little drawer of tea, twisting slightly so that she can squint at one, then the next, murmuring the words to herself in thought. there's the peculiar idea of finding something stronger than tea here, anyway, and none of this seems to really fit the bill. rather, it means they'll have to go further into the shop.

perking back up, she shoots him a tired smile, but it's full of the bright, warm brevity of an overworked customer service representative; with a soft bow of her head, she brushes past him towards the register counter. )

Let me just see here, we keep the good stuff locked up tight... But only the best, for our valued customers.

( she's absolutely bluffing, as she rounds on the counter: as expected, there are drawers and other strange cases behind the counter, which makes her purse her lips. setting her bag down near the cash register--which she imagines doesn't have anything inside of it--she immediately reaches for one of the closed drawers on the cabinet beneath it, pulling with two hands.

it won't open. her gaze flickers up to the stranger, then back to the drawer, and she pulls--to no avail. somehow the experience is so ridiculous that it makes her want to laugh, and she does, a faint whisper of a chuckle beneath her breath. )

...Okay, maybe my valued customer will have to help me break into these and see what we've got.

[mollymocks]

Breaking in? But that's illegal.

[ He manages to hold a look of too-innocent shock on his face for about a second before it morphs into something more like a smirk and he saunters over to join her. No real interest in what might or might not be in the cabinets, but there's always a joy in getting to something that you've been blocked off from. It's certainly something more interesting to do than anything else around here, anyway.

He peers at it intently for a good few moments as if he has any idea of what he's looking at, humming thoughtfully. ]

Well! I'm hardly an expert here, but let's see what we can do. [ Who needs lock picking when you have brute force? Subtlety is boring. ] What we need here is a lever of some sort.

[ There's got to be something like that around here, doesn't there? He turns to scour the shop properly on the lookout for even a mop or broom or something like it. ]

...or a large hammer, I suppose.

closed — feathering

[bloomly]

( it's the same sound that she remembers hearing outside her room, back in the basement of the shinra electric power company: the steady tick tick tick of polished heels on the tile, the slight, wheezing cackle of a menacing voice. when she had been young, her mother had wrapped her up under the blankets, telling her that they would play pretend and imagine the lights of all the other planets above them, but that they would have to close their eyes to see them; she can recognize that her mother often wanted to feign sleep under the guise that perhaps then, they wouldn't be taken out for experiments, that perhaps they would be spared at least one time, maybe two, maybe three. it worked a couple times, until hojo caught on--then he would come walking into the room whether they were sleeping or not, and her mother would spend hours gone at a time while she drew and colored on the walls.

with a shaking breath, she squeezes her eyes shut. she doesn't see the stars, or any planets, or anything beautiful like flowers or animals or the people that she loves. she sees the darkness behind her lids, and nothing more. even without her eyes shut, the whole shop is cloaked in utter darkness--it had been her shins which had found this empty bathtub in some kind of home goods store, drawn up with some squeaky plastic curtain around its fake-porcelain frame, and she'd cursed at the pain before realizing it would make a perfect hiding spot. she doesn't know how long she can evade the drawling voice of the man that pursues her, but if she lays here quietly--if she pretends she has a blanket she can pull over her eyes--

when her eyes open again, she's staring up through the plastic lining of the shower curtain. there, just beyond it, is the shape of another person: but it isn't hojo, couldn't be hojo at all. this looks to be a man, someone lanky and a little tall, perhaps: but it's hard to tell from where she's flattened herself out in the bottom of the bathtub. what is she supposed to do? she can't just let someone else get caught up in her own mistakes--she can't just let someone else get roped into hojo's path. no matter the kind of person, he'll be happy to torture them for his own benefit: or even worse, torture them to force aerith to bend to his wishes. )

...You can't be here. ( it's whispered urgently, where she lifts her head just enough for the top of her pink bow, matted and wrinkled at the back of her hair, to peek up from beyond the edge of the bathtub. will the stranger hear her? ) You have to go. You have to--hide. Come here. In here. Quickly!

[feathering]

[ Living in hiding and keeping your identity unknown to most people has kept Joshua on his toes for so long. Though perhaps it is also his sensitivity towards life itself that has him be aware of another's presence, despite it being dark and quiet. He merely has a small fireball hovering closely so he doesn't bump into anything while he's looking for something he can somehow brandish as a weapon. Luck isn't on his side.

He hadn't meant to disturb anyone, and was merely keeping to himself. His attention is finally caught by the other person in the store, seemingly concealing herself. It shouldn't be his business to ask. It wasn't, just a few moments ago, but the urgency in her tone is enough to make him inquire more. Know more. If there is anything he can do to ease her anxieties, then he would do it despite being a complete stranger.

His soft footsteps grow louder as he walks towards the bathtub. He does not ask for Aerith to show herself completely, especially if she is in hiding, so Joshua kneels and tries to take a peek behind the curtain. ]

It is just the two of us here, my lady. [ Joshua pauses, then hopes to ease her worries ever so slightly with a jest. ] And I dare say, if I did hide with you, we may not be able to fit.

[bloomly]

( there’s a small glow, from the other side of the curtain, and as the stranger kneels next to the tub, she can see it’s something that he’s holding: it looks warm, like a little bulb of firelight, and immediately she thinks of the way that materia glows when it’s being used; the thought puts her a little at ease about the stranger’s appearance. still, he has a young face, looks kind when he glances towards her, and slightly, she lifts her chin up even further, showing the bright green of her eyes, round and owlish with worry. )

You’re slender enough. ( the joke is appreciated, despite the strain in her voice: it’s true, she doesn’t hear those meandering footsteps when the stranger is talking, and even when they lapse into silence, she can’t hear them anymore, either. that doesn’t mean much: it’s just a small reprieve. ) You didn’t… see him?

( whoever the ‘him’ is, she doesn’t seem particularly keen to elaborate; slowly, her hands curl over the edge of the bathtub, lifting her shoulders up to look past her companion’s shoulders, glance around him, try to gauge where hojo might have disappeared off to. )

You didn’t see anyone?

[feathering]

[ Him. Joshua is sure he saw no one, but he stands up to give a look around once more. The minimal light does not to much in helping him see what's beyond the next couple of feet away, but on the way here? There was no one else. Perhaps this lady has lost "him", whoever this "him" is.

For now, anyway. ]

I did not. Perhaps your hiding was effective, and he has gone elsewhere to find you.

[ Though he hopes she is not being chased, to begin with. ]

Who is he?

[bloomly]

( there's no sense in hiding things: and the question is straightforward enough. still, there's a part of her that feels like she shouldn't say anything at all; how would she even begin to describe things, without giving away too much, or giving away simply too little to be understood? a part of her thinks of cloud, thinks of tifa, thinks of all the hardships they've been through, and the trouble that they fell into thanks to her and her secrets. would a stranger be spared those things? or would she just be roping in someone else?

with a faint smile, strained, she darts another glance past the stranger--and then directs her gaze up to him, studying his face. he looks kind: a little tired, a little mysterious, the kind of person that likely holds much behind their eyes, with burdens she wouldn't be able to imagine, either. )

How about... we sit in here. ( it feels like a good compromise, as she shifts, pulling her legs up to bend her knees to her chest as she sits, with her back to one end of the tub, providing plenty of room in front of her. ) And I can tell you a little.

( another glance at him, half of a smile, tentative. ) ...If you tell me your name.

[feathering]

[ He's being studied, isn't he? Not that Joshua minds, if it helps the lady in feeling safer and more comfortable. He doubts his appearance or the ideas she is able to make in her head would help the situation now, but he hopes it does put her at ease in some way.

There's a small and faint smile he offers in return, which only grows wider and even evolves into a laugh when she bargains. At least, it sounds like a bargain. ]

My name is Joshua, my lady. Joshua Rosfield.

[ He is grateful for the space. And so, he pushes the curtains a little more to the side so he can enter, standing up first inside and facing the same way Aerith is, then he pulls on the curtains again to hide them both.

Once he's sat and keeping his legs folded and to himself, he looks the girl's way. ]

This would not be the most ideal of hiding places, by the way. But for the time being, it shall do.

closed — wingclip

[bloomly]

( there's something wrong with her foot: it's the thought she has every time her heel lands on the polished floor, a little hiss of breath with every shift of her weight. the boots had been a bad idea, maybe, or maybe it's not that at all--it feels like something might be twisted, or like the laces are too tight, or maybe it's that piercing pain of something sharp inside of the sole, like she's stepped on gravel, stepped on rocks, stepped on glass. as quickly as she's trying to get away from what she thinks may still be pursuing her, no matter that she's already taken care of it once, there's no way that she'll last much longer with this amount of pain. she could push through it, but it might just make things worse, and she hasn't seen a shoe shop for at least a few hallways. no chance to swap them out or change something about them.

barefoot would be quieter, but would that be safer? could there be things on the floor that she can't see in the dark? rounding another corner, she hits some sort of gaming shop and immediately crouches down in the entrance, using the shift from tile to carpet in order to start to pull her left boot off. in the dark, it's hard to see anything, but she can tell her sock is discolored, a strange, brown-black hue to the toes of it that makes her wince as she finally sinks down all the way, collapsing onto her backside. with the skirt of her dress pooled around her, she gingerly peels off her sock, fingers groping around between her toes and upper foot; when her hand draws back, it's wet with blood.

a blister? could be. but in turning the heel of her shoe around, she can feel the jagged cut down the leather: she stepped on some of the glass she broke in her escape from whatever that thing had been back there. guess going barefoot is how it'll be.

grimacing, she starts to methodically pull off her other boot, gaze darting around to ensure that she's still safe--and that's when she sees her, a girl passing by who seems to slow to a stop upon seeing her there, too. it's hard to make out the girl's features in the relative dark, but she doesn't look like she's there for a fight; aerith smiles up at her, wincing slightly in embarrassment. )

Sorry. This isn't where you've been sleeping or anything, is it? I'm so sorry, I'm almost done here.

( hurriedly, she shucks off her good boot and starts to peel that sock off, too. )

[wingclip]

[The mannequins displayed on the large scaling windows of the shops flank her on each side.

She quietly pads down the ever expanding hallway with spotlights lined on each of her side— categories of dresses, skirts and various outfits fancifully showcased for all to see. With her mouth pressed in a thin line Shinobu passes through spring, then summer. Swimsuits, sun dresses, pretty halters.

Something about the dim lighting in the mall makes those contours and shadows far more overbearing than necessary.

This is what they want, isn’t it? The demon slayer muses to herself as she turns a corner past another dark shop. For us to explore. To be afraid.

Why?

A quiet sound of shuffling pulls her swiftly out of her reverie and makes her hyper aware of the atmosphere around her.

Her footsteps slow until she’s certain she can decipher the shape of a person on the floor. Her first instinct is to rush forward to help— but these days she’s become a little more cautious, more guarded about who she should trust and why. It’s almost pitiful and if she just had her sword---]

Ah.

[The young woman lies in a warm-colored heap and Shinobu’s adjusting gaze spots the bare skin of her foot and the blood accompanying it. No, she can’t just let her go like that. Her pulse races every so slightly as she steps forward, her mouth turned down in a frown.]

Please, don’t get up.

[Her hand pats at something in her pocket as she approaches the woman slowly, managing a small smile.]

Instead… would it be alright if I took a look at that, Miss?

[bloomly]

( the concern in her companion’s voice is palpable—-and for a moment, as though she’s completely forgotten, she has no idea why it would sound so urgent. it’s just a little blood, isn’t it? there’s nothing wrong with that. it isn’t too much of a concern when it’s someone like her…which is when she realizes that it’s completely normal for a stranger to be worried about someone bleeding. she’s spent so much time in this place pushing herself forward for others, smiling and playing and creating a positive atmosphere: it’s easy enough to forget to take care of herself.

even so, as though worried for the burden, she takes in a soft breath, offers a faint smile and bows her head. she doesn’t sense anything particularly dangerous about the woman—-at least not in the sense that any of her skill will be directed at her. rather, she carefully unfolds her legs, shifting to sit and stretch them out in front of her. )

Are you sure? I can probably close up the wound myself, but…

( she’s already used a lot of her effort, her stamina, her skill: and in this place, it’s dwindled down to a reserve of barely nothing at all. )

If you wouldn’t mind…I could use a second opinion. ( a small, warm smile. ) Are you a healer of some kind?

closed — wordchain

[bloomly]

( the further that she gets into the mall, the more she can feel that something is very wrong, in this place.

something in her demands that she turn around and head back towards the entrance--but there's something sinking there, too, like she knows that she wouldn't be able to find her way back, even if she wanted to. when she turns on her heels, walking backwards down the open mall hallway, she can see some of the store signs that she's passed, but not all of them: it's like the building stretches out into strange, unheard of dimensions, things that she doesn't understand or recognize. would it be worth it to head back? or would she just get even more lost?

for now, uncertain, her brows knit together as she turns back around and casts her chin up to observe the next shop that she sees. it's some kind of jewelry shop, full of glittering, expensive-looking pieces, and despite herself, she finds herself at least interested enough to look inside. with her hands linked at her back, she ducks her way past the opening, peering one way, and then the next: there's seemingly no one inside, though the lights are all on, and the display cases are all lit up, special ones rotating to show various necklaces and bracelets. still, she isn't quite sure she should go inside--this feels like a set up, doesn't it?

with a sigh, she takes a step back outside of the shop, turning on her heels again. there are a few people walking up along the other side of the mall, but she doesn't want to call out to them and startle them: so she waits, patiently, for someone to walk down along the side she is on. lucky for her, it's someone all by himself: someone who looks like they probably would rather do anything but get roped into this with her. )

Excuse me~. ( it's said in a warm voice, as she plants herself immediately in the man's path. ) Can I hire you for something? It's really easy, promise. You don't have to be good at anything at all! Though, if you are really good at something, you should tell me. It might be useful.

[wordchain]

[ Whatever unseen entity lies behind this city's workings, it seems that any instances of communication issued continue to be largely nonsensical. Nevertheless, in a place where questions rapidly overtake answers in number, the few patterns identified may prove significant in time, pieces of an incomplete picture to collect in the hope that connecting them forms a meaningful whole. This is no doubt the reasoning that has drawn many to the shopping mall — a grand re-opening implies that the premises were previously sealed off out of necessity. It is as Roland said, then: each month, sections of the city become accessible, little by little.

Occupied with these thoughts, Yesod has ventured into the entrance area of several stores, none of which appear to be any more remarkable in their selection of items than the city's other shops. He makes his way past another row of signs and display windows, pauses to consider the escalators. All in all, nothing suggests that the shopping mall itself is an outlier beside the tourist center or City Hall.

What is interesting is the request with which Yesod abruptly finds himself faced just outside one more shop. Energetic and purposeful, the young woman intercepting him evidently has a clear goal in her sights, at least. It reminds him, if fleetingly, of someone else from long ago. ]

...What do you have in mind?

[ Asking to "hire" him is certainly an unusual choice of phrasing, enough to pique his curiosity. ]

That will determine whether my skills are relevant.

[bloomly]

( it’s almost a clever way to avoid having to answer outright: clever, in that it returns the burden of information back to her, like a ball bouncing back and forth across a court. it reminds her of someone from back home, someone else stubborn and secretive, and that makes her smile; she doesn’t mind having to meet him question for question, information for information. )

Well…

( her eyes train back, from his face to the opening of the shop that’s just beyond them now—-where the jewelry still glitters in all the display cases, clearing tempting someone to come in and examine them all. )

I wanted to rob this place. ( her voice, bright and warm, could go either way; is she teasing, or telling the truth? even her smile, as it returns, and her gaze, swinging back to rest on his expression, are nearly unreadable in their possible sincerity. ) What do you think?

( in truth, she simply wants to take a look around—-splendor like this had never been available to her, the sort that she would gaze at in the windows of shops on the plate while selling her flowers. there might not be any staff there, and certainly everything in this city is akin to stealing: but this might go a little far past taking what is necessary. )

[wordchain]

[ Yesod's brows draw together, the crease of a frown between them. His lips thin into a line. The woman before him is joking, he thinks. She must be testing his reactions, rather than genuinely making plans to commit a crime and approaching strangers with the intention of recruiting an accomplice.

Presumably no one else has taken an interest in the jewelry shop yet, or they've moved on, finding nothing of practical use here — he and this woman are alone in this corner of the building for now, presenting him as a convenient candidate to address by default. The store itself, like all the other locations in this city, is of course unattended. Even if surveillance cameras monitoring the mall were to capture someone clearing out a shop in its entirety, what would result from it? Moreover, its contents possess no objective value.

In other words, it's unlikely that he has received a truthful answer, perhaps because his own reply was evasive. He glances past the shop's entrance, scanning what he can see of its interior, before turning back to the woman. ]

...I have no experience in that regard, nor are my pockets large enough to conceal numerous stolen items. Besides, what purpose would the endeavor serve?

[ Gifts? A vast personal collection to admire or cycle through over time? ]

[bloomly]

So you're not a criminal! ( or, at the very least, he's never stolen before, but she doesn't appear to be making that distinction with her declaration. ) That's good to know.

( at the mention of his pockets, her gaze falls: it rakes down the length of him, noting his attire, his pockets, his shoes, the length of his legs, everything she can note. it's true, they wouldn't be able to get away with much, and her pockets aren't very big, either. then again, for an imaginary robbery, it will suit them just fine--she could suggest dragging him to another corner of the mall, stuffing him into clothes that would be better suited for a crime like this, but she decides to hold that idea in the back of her head.

rather, she moves forward on the toes of her boots, reaching with both hands for one of his arms: the touch is light enough that he could easily break free, but both of her hands wrap around his forearm, just above his wrist, giving a plaintive sort of tug. )

The purpose? To see if anything would happen, of course. The city doesn't seem to have any soldiers or anything-- ( an interesting use of words, there. ) --but that doesn't mean that the mall doesn't, right? We might be able to get some good information.

( her lips curl up into a grin, amused. ) Or, you know, we might be able to get some pretty things for ourselves. You don't wear jewelry, do you? I don't wear much either.

[astraphilia]

[ Reno adjusts his grip on the makeshift nightstick in his hand, feeling the electrical tape shift and cling under his palm. the first several hours he had been stuck in this building were fine—mostly, or at least Reno is good enough at pretending things are fine that he had been able to convince himself it was true. he'd spent some time in a clothing store, cased most of the western half of the building for potential exits, and jury rigged his weapon out of a croquet club and some electrical tape.

by hour ten, though, Reno's patience is starting to wear thin. by hour ten he's already seen whatever it was that was stalking Sasuke through the building, experienced at least a handful of those vivid-bright flashes of someone else's death memory. by hour ten he's seen at least a handful of glimpses of Jessie, who absolutely shouldn't be here by any stretch of the imagination, her gaze silent and accusing when he catches her looking at him from the darkness of the mall's storefronts.

it's enough to put a guy a little on edge, is about the size of it. ]

Odin's balls, if we don't get some fucking lights on in here I'm gonna lose my fucking mind, [ is what Reno's muttering to himself as he turns yet another corner that he's fairly sure shouldn't be there, or wasn't there the last time he passed by this area of the mall. how is a guy supposed to get the lay of the land when the lay of the land keeps changing right under his feet?

he's busy enough angrily rearranging his mental map of the mall that he doesn't notice the person in front of him before he's almost quite literally on top of them. ]

[bloomly]

( it's a whisper of a voice, at first--the distant sound of footsteps, something that by now, she's only too used to experiencing. something about them sounds just the same as the rest of them, the steady click of the kind of shoes that one might wear to the office, like the sharp rap of heels on cold tile, telling her it'll only be a moment of pain or your mother's remains are still here like it should give her some kind of clarity or comfort about it all. as much as she's felt his presence here, in the mall, she's never quite gotten a good look at him, mostly out of fear: no, it isn't fear, it's something stronger than that. the need for survival, perhaps, that anyone has when being pursued by a monster.

her hands lace together, arms bent as though ready to jab an elbow out, create space for her to run, should anyone be in pursuit--and even as she turns the next corner, she knows that whatever it is, making sounds beyond it, will likely be closer than she expects. it's just that she doesn't expect it to be right there, a bundle of warm arms and limbs and a firm chest that knocks right into her. with a strangled sound of surprise, she immediately lashes out with both arms--her elbow clocks the stranger in the jaw, and her other hand pushes, shoves, forcing distance between them as she jerks back a few steps.

it's not worth it to look. something like a suit, a flash of red hair, illuminated like dirty water in the dark; no, even if it looks like reno, it isn't reno, or is it? she isn't going to stick around and find out. instead, she twists on the heels of her boots, immediately darting back into the first store on the corner there: a candle shop, it seems, full of soap and lotion and other things, the smell absolutely cloying in her urgency to find a place to hide or, more importantly, an actual weapon. )

[astraphilia]

[ the impact of an elbow against Reno's jaw rattles his skull a little, leaves him disoriented and only able to catch the quickest glimpse of his assailant—long brown hair, pink ribbon. one hand comes up to cradle his surely bruised chin, and Reno takes a couple of steps in pursuit, calling, ] Oi, flower girl—

[ ah, but.

Reno draws to a halt at the entrance of the store where she'd vanished into the darkness. he thinks about what he's been seeing, the ghosts of his own past—small wonder that Aerith would flee from him, when Reno himself is a ghost of hers.

he grimaces, lifting his nightstick to tap it absently against the side of his neck. ] Listen, I ain't gonna follow you in there—

[ is that convincing? do the ghosts even talk? Reno hasn't gotten close enough to find out what Jessie might have to say to him if she could. ]

But I kinda don't feel right leavin' you alone either, so...

[ really a rock and a hard place here. Reno paces briefly, back and forth in front of the storefront, then leans against the doorframe and sighs. ]

[bloomly]

( there are words there, something that sounds like flower girl in reno's gruff voice, but she isn't fully paying attention. her gaze skates past tiers of pretty candles and some sort of advertisement for new fall scents that doesn't tell her anything other than the source of that overpowering smell of pumpkin and cinnamon, twisting her head this way and that in search of a curtain rod, or some kind of blunt object: maybe even a fire extinguisher would do. she could probably break one of these fancy candles open and take the glass, but that would need some sort of cloth to handle it...

with a brief sound of exasperation, she moves deeper into the shop, pausing behind one of the elaborate displays. the voice, as it is, seems tired and steady: something about not feeling right to leave her there, or something similar, and would a monster in pursuit, or someone wearing reno's face, really say something like that? she isn't even sure reno himself would say something like that. it means she hesitates, squinting out into the darkness: he's still there, lingering in front of the storefront, leaning up against the frame of the entrance.

well, next best thing, then. she turns towards one of the nearby shelves, immediately claiming a plastic bottle of scented body spray, knocking the cap off and giving it a few testing squirts into the air. if this reno gets close to her, then she's got something, at least. )

So what? ( she calls out, defiant as always; even though she can feel her palms sweat a little with nervousness. ) So you're just going to stand there? Come in with your hands up. What even is that thing you have....

[astraphilia]

I dunno! I was decidin' that. [ don't call him out like that, jeez. he can vaguely make out Aerith's shape moving through the shelves and displays, like she's looking for something suitably hefty to wield against him. can't blame her for looking, although Reno's not really sure there's going to be much in this overpoweringly-scented little store that can be used as a weapon... although desperate times, he figures. ]

Eh? This? [ he lifts the nightstick, letting her see it. not quite "both hands up," but it's definitely not an offensive posture. ] It's a baton. Kinda jury-rigged out of some game equipment and some tape I found in the maintenance room. [ it has nothing on the weapon he's used to, that's for sure, but it'll do in terms of self-defense, at least for now. he puts his other hand up, resting them both on top of his head, and takes a couple of steps into the store, but doesn't go any further.

now that his eyes are adjusting, he can barely make out the shape of the spray bottle in Aerith's hands. she'd be better off finding one in an aerosol canister and using a lighter to make a flamethrower out of it, but somehow Reno gets the impression that Aerith's not currently in the market for Reno's Hot Homemade Weapon Tips. ]

I ain't following you, promise. Just one of the sorry saps stuck in here.

[ what it comes down to is probably the counterweight between Reno's ability to sound convincing and Aerith's willingness to believe him. she has no reason to, he knows; in fact, she'd all but explicitly asked him to stay the hell away from her, so he can't blame her for being peeved he'd sorta mowed her over in a mall hallway. ]