8484/Weather Squirrels

Weather Squirrels
Date of Scene:	24 July 2019
Location:	Felicia Hardy's atlantic summer home.
Synopsis:	Wherein Loki does more manipulations of Black Cat, and the orbs move around.
Cast of Characters:	Black Cat, Loki
Tinyplot:	Weather Spheres

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Black Cat has posed:
Pleading sickness and remaining abed for an entire day is something unusual for the Black Cat. Normally, the summer nights are for her to prowl and frolic on the rooftops of the sprawling, glittering New York City in search for equally shiny trinkets.

Sleep claims her in the wee hours of the morning after her chaotic interaction with the Trickster God himself and only after Shammy, kitten-construct-extraordinaire and gift she loathes to part from, purrs on her chest until he too curls into a ball of forest-green and gold.

It's around sunset of the next day when she awakens with a gasp and slaps her hands over her mouth to stop the strangled cry from leaving her. Shammy tumbles to one side on the covers with a startled mew and rights himself, blinking in confusion. He's given a glossy-eyed look before Felicia stares down at her palms. She thinks...and she measures...and the minutes pass. Pulling her knees up before her face, she buries this in the covers and weeps more. Not long after the sun has truly set, the blonde swipes at her face. A hard glint fills her jade-green eyes. Fine. So be it.

Thus, after a shower and dressing more warmly, she leaves Shammy on his favored pillow and steps out into the Sanctum hallway. "...trust me, Stephen," she whispers to no one even as she closes the door again...

...and opens it onto her family's property on the Atlantic Ocean. It's equally as cool as the night before, achingly clear up into the sprinkling of stars and the light of the fuller moon. Leaving the door cracked, she toes off her shoes to allow herself ample tactile coverage of the ground. Through the sedge-grass she walks and down onto the sand, towards the ice-like glassing left behind from a spell caught up in her own powers. It's this she stands beside in her fitted windbreaker and jeans, her hair done up in a crowned braid at the back of her skull.

"So... I don't know if this is going to work, but...it works around the house." As she mutters to the night wind, she means the Sanctum. "Hey! HEY! You...stupidtwiddlyfingeredfuckface." It's a mouthing to herself as her courage falters. Steeling herself, Felicia finally manages, "Loki Odinson! I want to chat with you."

The night, at first, is still.

Loki has posed:
The porch light comes on outside the cabin, sending warm yellow light out onto the sand. A few seconds later, other lights turn on, but there's no signs of motion or life inside the cabin otherwise.

It's a little eerie, something out of a horror movie.

Black Cat has posed:
The reach of golden light across the porch and out upon the sand is startling enough to make Felicia jitter in place, her feet stamping in half-controlled reaction. "Ooooooooh, you...!" It's the same insult mouthed before and a spur to aid her in stomping across the short distance of sand to the wind-worn wood of the porch. She's not subtle about her footsteps upon it.

"This is trespassing," the Cat calls out in a strained voice, already feeling her cool slip from her fingers. Thank god there's a spare key beneath the loose board to the left of the door. Prising it up with her fingernails, she grabs the chit and hurriedly unlocks the front door. Yanking it open, she steps within, immediately scanning the living room. It's a simple place despite the money her family claims to have: a couch is centrally located before the broad windows spread on the wall, all the better to watch the ocean. Behind, an open floorplan bleeds into a kitchen and a set of hallways leading to bedrooms, bathrooms, and a mudroom.

Loki has posed:
"Tresspassing? Not when you specifically invite me in to chat," Loki answers, from behind her in the doorway, after giving her the chance to step forward. Was he inside? Did he follow her in? The mystery of it brings a cheeky smirk to be present on Loki's face, as he relaxes in the doorway, leaning a shoulder against the frame.

Loki is dressed more in line with being Asgardian today, with some slippery leather pants, boots, and a black open-collared poet shirt. He looks like something out of a romance novel cover, except with a sinister quality to his posture and lifted chin.

Black Cat has posed:
Felicia is naught but three steps inside when the unctuous voice makes itself and its speaker known to her. The Asgardian gets to see the supernatural agility on display: the Cat throws herself forwards through the air to clear the three-seater couch and land on the other side. It's an impressive feat for a Midgardian, given it's easily fifteen feet from point A to landing.

Rising up on the opposite side of the furniture and into view again, the thief is already pinked at the cheeks and hard of eye. "Fffffff..." Her plan keeps her from cussing him out, but man, that finger-point, followed by the curling of clawed hand at him and its retraction into a fist that she pulls against her chest. "Yes. Fine. I wanted to talk to you," she bites out.

Loki has posed:
The jumping reaction draws a chuckle from the elusive god, and a headtilt, as he watches her collect herself. Yes, he's very much the prankster type.

"A little jumpy, for someone that literally called out to me, aren't you?" Loki asks, but it isn't extremely mocking. Just a little bit. He lets go of the doorframe, letting the door close gently, and starts to walk towards the kitchen in a bored way. He moves a hand in a 'go ahead' circular motion at her.

Black Cat has posed:
The graceful lines of her throat can be seen to work. It is with a smidgeon of petty delight that she informs the Asgardian traveling past her, "There's no food or anything in the fridge. Nobody visits her often enough." Take that, so there. Her eyes linger on him as she tries to smooth her ruffled feathers enough to return to at least a neutral mein. It means gripping and twisting the hem of her windbreaker hard enough to tear it accidentally -- the smallest sound of fabric ripping can be heard.

Quickly, Felicia speaks overtop this, as if loathe to give away yet another of her secrets. "You said you saved the Doctor. Did you really? If I go to him right now, what's he going to tell me?"

Loki has posed:
"You're bragging that you lack friends to visit?" questions Loki as he goes into the kitchen anyway. He brushes a hand over a cabinet, finding and drawing out a wine glass. He returns to the main room with the empty glass. He prowls to the couch, seating himself sideways, and promptly swirls the glass. It fills with a dark red wine. He can make his own wine out of nothing.

"He forgot who he was, so, I don't know /what/ he thinks he remembers," Loki shrugs, "But I did deliver him out of the astral plane purgatory, because no one else had the power to do so. Those that I gave him to did know it was me. Whether their egos could handle my heroism is another thing." Loki rolls his eyes, sampling his wine.

Black Cat has posed:
The ability to make one's own wine is an impressive skill, and one that Felicia notes with a twist of her lips. So much for being spiteful and having a truthful reason for it.

Her silent steps take her around to the far end of the couch now. This is apparently enough distance for her to remain comfortable enough to scowl at him. "So who do I go ask about this, if Ste -- the Doctor doesn't remember any of it? I want to take your word, but you've been really...really untrustworthy in my eyes, Loki. I shouldn't even be here talking to you right now." She ignores the earlier jibe about lacking friends...for now.

Loki has posed:
"Yes, well. I'd consider offering you wine, but I really doubt you'd drink it, so I'm not going to bother," Loki observes, adjusting his back on the couch a hair, clearly making himself at home. He draws a hand back through his hair and then drapes the arm on the couch back. All of it speaks of cocky confidence. And some of it is potentially on purpose: he remembers full well the sexual overtones Felicia took in Jeremy's company. Mild returned favor.

"If you are really sure you want to investigate, I guess you could find out who helped him, and talk to them. Or you could interview the Shadow King. He's very pleasant." Sarcasm is thick on the last.

"I've given up on any real proof of my good deeds. There's always proof of bad ones in spades; funny how that works. I'll need to create NEW proof, with things like /witnesses/."

Black Cat has posed:
The blonde folds her arms at the offer rescinded on assumption and the subtle lift of her chin speaks to being aware of it. Of course, it puts her own posture far more stiff and unyielding in comparison to the languid display on the couch, but she didn't skimp on the lipstick and kohl eyeliner either post-shower. Her eyes glow, even when half-shuttered at him. Resident ice queen, ahoy.

"Funny how that works," she echoes quietly in agreement, then pursing her lips. Felicia then looks to one side. Her lashes close and she then averts her face towards the ceiling, brows knitted, as if she were calling upon some deity for patience and strength. Clearing her throat, she speaks again, looking once more at the man sprawled in her home. "I believe you did it. I believe you also had other intentions, whether you actively meant to or not, but...look." Fingernails curl up and try to coax a loose strand of moon-pale hair behind her ear, where it's fallen from her braiding.

"...thanks. For doing that. He means a lot to this world."

Loki has posed:
Loki was drinking his wine, eyes on her though, but he didn't expect the change in behavior. He heavy-swallows the sip of wine, with a bit of backwash into the glass, and looks at her with a curiosity and questioning of sanity.

A soft cough, and then a laugh, follows. "I don't dislike Dr. Strange; I don't want the job of Supreme," Loki reveals, his laugh wry. He rolls the wine glass by the stem in the fingers of the same hand. "I'm part of why he holds the spot now," Loki smiles. It's a pleasant enough smile, and warms Loki's face out of being quite as vicious. "He does, in that sense, have my /favor/."

Loki taps an index finger on his wine glass. "That he is open to ignoring some past issues is part of that."

Black Cat has posed:
"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeah. I owe you a slap for all of New York City for that one," the Cat agrees with a wrinkle of her nose. She knows precisely what's being referenced on the sly; after all, she ended up having to hide in the basement of the art classroom at university while the destruction abounded. "But I'm not going to do it because it's not my job right now. The Doctor's got my vote on the slapping, if or when it happens."

The fingertips raised to fuss with the strand of hair remain at it. She curls it around a joint beside her jawline. "Look, if you...you just said you don't dislike him. You're yanking his chain with the Orbs -- so how's he in your favor? Think about it. I mean, what is this, some kind of...game? If so, can you, just...please stop?"

Loki has posed:
"What do you see the purpose of what I do, then? Simply to yank on a chain?" Loki asks her, in a manner that suggests he's changing the subject. He isn't, though. He grins a little bit. "Maybe it's better to not take everything so dreadfully /seriously/. Change your perspective up a little. Not so stagnant."

Loki's doing them all a favor, by his tone and suggestion.

"You feel a need to come break your wrist against my cheek, come try it," Loki snarks back, with a deep drink of the rest of his wine, leaning forward to put the glass on the table.

"By the way, I remember yesterday how you mocked my power, that I should just go ahead and collect those other two orbs. Do you remember? So I did. I now have four." He stares at her, with a relaxed indifference.

Black Cat has posed:
To her dismay, the subtle grin from the Trickster God is almost returned in the usual manner of social mirroring. Damnit. Felicia covers by pinching her nose and closing her eyes, as if what he'd just suggested was incredibly dismaying to her. It hides the way she thins her red-red lips into not-quite-a-smile behind the fold of her hand.

"Yeah, not so interested in breaking my wrist," she manages to mutter in the interim of him setting his drink aside on the coffee table. The facade of indifference falls apart at his claim, however, and she emerges from behind her hand with wide eyes.

Her mouth works silently for a little. "Oh...my god," she breathes. An inhale stutters to be released halfway through and she tries again, unfurling her bottom lip from beneath the edge of her white teeth. "Um. Wow."

Loki has posed:
"And BEHOLD," Loki says loudly, both hands up and out. He then laughs, slyly. "The world continues to turn, the seasons are safe enough. At least until I'm bored." Loki then gives her a dry little stare. "That's a joke. Laugh." His lips pull sideways in a smirk, as he sets his head against his raised hand, the elbow supported on couch.

"I'd hardly want to be seen a coward. Or any of the other choice descriptors," Loki continues. He doesn't sound like he actually really cares about it, though. The opinions of humans are passing, swift things. "They aren't all in the same place. I actually /do/ know what I'm doing."

Black Cat has posed:
The windows of the beach house are given a cursory check-in, as if Felicia did expect it to suddenly be snowing in July at his mere words and gestures. She looks back to him, eyes still wide. When prompted, something like a small hiccup escapes her -- the treatment of her world's status as nothing more in worth than a laugh is boggling.

"I never -- never said you didn't know what you were doing. I'd...I'd say congratulations, but you're still stressing us all out, so..." Felicia's pointer fingers revolve around one another before her chest as if to summon up the words she wants. "Could you... Mmmfff."

She pirouettes to pace away, hugging herself with her chin tucked to her chest. The muffled groan stoppered up behind her teeth is frustration incarnate. Her hands can be seen to flutter off to the sides, as if she were shaking excess water from them. Turning around, wearing a dignified expression, the Cat returns to the couch.

"I got to thinking and I don't think I'm speaking your language half the time," she reveals quietly. Biting at the corner of her lip again, she then descends to one knee...and then the other to sit on her heels beyond the coffee table. Her words are halting. "Please, your highness...may I have the Orb of Summer back?"

Loki has posed:
Loki watches her fiddle with trying to decide how to approach him, what to say. He observes all of the cycle of emotions and struggle... entirely entertained. By the time she's descended to a knee in a show of worship and respect in front of the couch, both of his eyebrows have gone sky-high.

There's just SILENCE at first to her oddly respectful request. He slowly sits forward, dropping the leg that had been draped across the other to the ground, bending a little, to /stare/ into her face. His expression is a mask of nothing, eyes sharp as knives, as he silently ... judges her, watching her.

Black Cat has posed:
"...if you're thinking that me sitting on my heels makes me beholden to you, you can stuff the thought where the sun doesn't shine," the blonde mutters, her composure fracturing under the scrutiny but not breaking entirely. "Like I said. Maybe I wasn't speaking your language. You're royalty and you have all four of them. I'm asking politely. Please," comes the earnest request on a breath.

Loki has posed:
If her commentary about being beholden ruined it for her, there's no indication at first. He watches her composure for a time, makes her wait.

Finally Loki moves, stretches his hands languidly like a panther, and stands up. "Sure, what the hell." He ignores her entirely as he turns away and walks towards the door, flicking a wrist to cause the door itself to pop open with a brush of magic, as he descends out down the steps outside.

Black Cat has posed:
Admittedly, the thief is waiting on tenterhooks while Loki observes her. It wasn't wise, her comment, but it was honest -- and she'd been pricked about half-lies on the beach the night before. He moves and so does she, rising to her feet and sliding off to one side in a series of motions ending in something almost, but not quite, self-defensive. With a broken gasp, she then hurries after him on nearly silent feet.

"You're serious?" The whisper floats in his wake when she pauses on the porch, her fists stuffed into her armpits and every inch of her tingling in surprise.

Loki has posed:
"/Well/, I was thinking maybe Autumn. Since that would actually fit the request, of getting it 'back'. I don't think you had Summer, did you?" Loki asks without turning to look at her. He's headed across the sand towards the gateway that leads to the Sanctum. By all actions it APPEARS that he might be following through on what he said.

Assuming Felicia doesn't do something to change his mind, or this isn't all just the latest stage of the 'torture Felicia' game!

Black Cat has posed:
With a soft 'eeep?!', Felicia patters down the stairs in a quick tattoo of sound. Her jogging steps are muffled as she approaches him and then appears at his side. Warily, she quickly side-steps beyond basic swipe-reach, but doesn't retreat further, instead keeping pace with him across the moonlit sand.

"No, I had Autumn, that's right," she confirms breathlessly. "Look, if you give this Orb back, and it's real, you... You don't know what this means to me." Her throat bobbles in a thick swallow. By all accounts, the thief is still half-expecting to be punked yet again.

Loki has posed:
"Tell me, then, what does it mean, exactly?" Loki asks in his elusive way. His mood is sliding back towards a mood he'd had when he first unveiled himself to her in the sand: a far more dangerous mood, compared to some of his others. He stops near the gateway on the sand, and instead seems to give her full attention. Which, considering what it looks like he was about to go do, she may not have hoped for as a result.

Black Cat has posed:
Slowly, Felicia comes to a halt at the short distance from him. The sand is cold beneath her feet and she curls her toes under his scrutiny, but doesn't drop his dark eyes. Instead, the thief lifts her chin at him.

"It means the world to me. It means that I can stop worrying about it and...sleep without having nightmares." Her voice loses more volume yet. "I can focus on something else for a little bit instead of feeling...feeling like I failed. Look, it sucks." Her jade-green irises disappear behind a deeply-feeling scruch of lashes and face alike. She puffs a sigh before looking at him again. "I want to make the Doctor happy. He doesn't get to be happy a lot of the time. I want to be good." Sure, it's simplistic, but it's the truth.

"And you get to be the good guy too," comes the addendum with a subtle shrug of her shoulders. The wind slinks past them again, bringing the scent of the sea to curl about.

Loki has posed:
"Interesting to call that 'good'. The Seasonal orbs are safe. They aren't disrupting this realm. That my keeping them isn't 'good' in and of itself is already a bit of an opinion thing," Loki responds, drawn into this interesting discussion about morality. "I'd even argue I am a better place to park them."

Then his shoulders shrug, and he tosses his head some, as the wind blew some strands of wavy black hair into his face. "As it happens, I don't need to be the guardian or warden of these things. But I /do/ like showing where the holes are in the 'defense' that they'd had. Maybe they'll be protected better in the future?" Loki smiles slyly.

Loki spins one hand in a loose circle next to the gate to the Sanctum, opening a different portal, in a shadowy blue tone. "I don't have them on me," Loki says succinctly, and steps through the blue portal into the hazy, weird, alien place beyond.

Black Cat has posed:
In a tone of strained patience, the Cat mutters, "You must come from the school of hard knocks, if this is how you 'teach' people about keeping things safe." The finger-quotations are heard in the inflection of the word. Magic, however, is magic, and a thing of perpetual wonder to the Midgardian woman. Her lips part in silent surprise to see the empty air suddenly spin out to offer access to another place entirely -- maybe even another world.

With her heart in her throat, and assuming she's meant to follow, Felicia cautiously steps up to the portal in azurine...and then through it. On the other side, she attempts to stay in the relative shadow of the Asgardian mage.

Loki has posed:
Loki looks back at her as if charmed. He's amused, surprised. "You weren't required to tag along," Loki teases her promptly. "But suit yourself. Wander off at your own peril," he comments, as if that might actually amuse him for her to get lost amid time and space.

The place is very strange, a sketchy magical dome on a barren, crunchy dark blue landscape. Loki is one of the few light sources, his hands lit, almost torchlike, to see by as he strides out into the craggy, rocky surface. The sky is intense with stars, some of them moving, as if actively hunting, scrying over the world below.

"First time leaving Midgard?" Loki asks conversationally.

Black Cat has posed:
"...shit." It's more of a squeaked curse as Felicia realizes just what she's done. Far too easy, letting her curious lead her through a proverbial cat-flap into...another world entirely?! A convulsive clutch of her hand averts from grabbing at the flowing sleeve of Loki's black shirt at the very last second, as if reversed in magnetic polarity. She instead grabs up the middling line of her zipped-up windbreaker. It's difficult to multitask between rapidly measuring the novelty-threat of the reality around her and keeping within the fall of light emitted from his hands. A glance over her shoulder at the familiarity of the beach beyond the blue-limned portal is longing.

She licks her dry lips. "Yes, this is...definitely the first time leaving Earth. Midgard. Whatever." Her gaze cuts back to Loki. "Where are we?" As if it might matter in the grand scheme of things with the woman lacking magical ability.

Loki has posed:
"One of /my/ worlds," Loki says, with a depth to his voice and words that resonates with a very, very intentional reminder of his godly status. "Sit," he instructs, in an imperial way, and then turns away from her. From the ground scuttles little sounds: creepy crawlies, skittering here and there, their shells reflecting the light from Loki's hands. Large ones come as well, the size of big dogs, out of holes in the rocks around them, from the dark. They are an echo, in a way, of the chitauri: perhaps a cousin.

"Watch her," Loki tells them, and then strides into the depths of the dark creatures, which flow out from his path, as his light moves away from her, perhaps intending to make her wait in the clicking, eerie black.

Black Cat has posed:
The sounds issuing from the shadows around them have Felicia drawing herself up thin and tall, as still as if she might become invisible by dint of this lack of movement. Her next exhale undulates a bit like tortured whale through her nose as she grits teeth to stop from screaming at the sight of the creatures.

"Um...I //reeeeeeally// don't want to sit down, not with those things around," she rasps into the growing distance between them. Her hesitation to follow is to her detriment; the mage is unfortunately too far ahead now for her to catch up beyond a quick darting run and she fully expects these creatures to be predatory.

"...if this is a test, you suck big hairy -- eep!" Felicia claps a hand over her mouth as something scuttles behind her. She simply closes her eyes now. "I can do this," she whispers into her sweaty palm. "I've got this."

Loki has posed:
The creatures surround her and fill in the gap that Loki left with his passing, of course. They watch her with spider-like eyes, their alien legs and bodies moving with those very soft sounds. They're quiet when they aren't moving, which might prompt her to peek: and just see the ENORMOUS audience by starlight.

Has Loki just left her there?

The portal starts to shrink slowly, the vision of the beach beyond and comfort slowly leaving like a forgotten memory.

Black Cat has posed:
"Okay, so..." A series of rather creative, anatomically-impossible slurs leave her in one long, full-lung hiss as Felicia carefully wipes her clammy hands on the slick surface of the windbreaker. "I can do this."

How odd, the sudden glow of foreign light from where the cat-burglar was left stranded in this place beyond her own. Having not looked back over her shoulder, she's unaware of the portal's iris closing. After all, her attention's on her cell phone now, and the downloaded music library on it. The screen blinds her to her surroundings and to the sight of the alien creatures -- willful blinding, yes, but once she slips the earbuds in and the strains of Michael Buble are familiar to her. They soothe her and a modicum of her nervy tension leaves her body...though not all. While she might have shut off two senses, the rest are on maximum guard. There she stands, phone outheld before herself, a small star of Midgardian technology in this alien world.

Loki has posed:
There's at least a song of time's spent. "I said /watch/ not eat," Loki disapprovingly says as if he were chiding some children to behave better, reappearing directly to her right. There's a warm ambiance of light and heat from him, an oasis of light and familiarity of something that isn't creepy clicking spidery monsters on the bleak, dark landscape of rock and chill.

Compared to what the world is, Loki's made himself something of a dream, a lifeline. Attractive in a number of ways. It's all very subtle and situationally manipulative, if looked at critically. For someone in a panic, perhaps not obvious at all.

He has a mage satchel over his shoulder, the surface of it rippling with green runes and shapes. "Ready to go, or enjoying yourself?" Loki questions.

Black Cat has posed:
The disruption of air beside her breaks on the back of her hand and Felicia jitters in place again. The turf beneath her feet makes sounds she doesn't catch as she yanks her earbuds free of her ears and lets out a forced, whistling sigh. "Ffffffffuck," she breathes, rudely yanked back into the true reality around her from the momentary peace found in her music. Loathe to put the phone away, she does nonetheless, and the Asgardian mage's sourcing of light takes precedence once more.

"I'd love to leave -- now -- please." His ambiance catches in her eyes and the cast is plain: imploring, stretched thin and balancing on the remaining strings of her courage. Fingertips tenatively reach out towards his arm again and curl away with noticeable force of will on her part. How badly, in this time and place, does she want a touchstone of familiarity.

Loki has posed:
"Take that to the sanctum, then, while I get the other orbs," Loki says, pulling the satchel off over his head as he walks, and dangling it out to the side between them. And yes, if she grabs it he'll tug it back just to mess with her before he actually lets her take it.

Loki leads towards the portal, refreshing it with a minor gesture, and waits for her to go. He won't follow her, though: he just lets her go to the beach, and opens a new gateway for himself.

Black Cat has posed:
Ah, something to grab, excellent. The subtle tug-of-war ends in Felicia's favor and he might enjoy how the satchel audibly slaps off her windbreaker before she clutches it to herself, heedless of the verdant auroral strandings of magic wending about it. Her throat is too tight for speech as she sticks to his side once more. The last dozen steps towards the portal are absolutely more of a fearful rush out onto the familiarity of the beach.

The cool run of grains of sand beneath her feet -- the sea air laden with salt and seaweed -- the correct pull of gravity -- the cell phone signal blipping up as 'connected' on her phone's screen -- it's real -- it's home. Felicia quivers on the edge of a grateful sniffle as she turns to look back at the blue-limned portal. Then, her eyes fall to the satchel gripped white-knuckled in her arms.

Is it...?

Heedless of whether or not the Trickster God is watching, her fingernail clicks the hasp of the satchel open and she lifts the hanging flap to reveal its contents.

Blood rushes from her face and her fingers go wintermint-cold in shock.

Oh god. There they are: Spring and Autumn both. She'd know them in her sleep -- and does, given the repeated nightmares that haunt her.

Felicia stares until a moth fluttering before her face brings her back with a hiccup of surprise. "Ohmygod! Ohmygod!!!" As fleeting as the wind, the thief then darts back towards the air-anchored cracked doorway leading to the Sanctum, very ready to plow through anyone and anything in her way.

Loki has posed:
The sound of Loki's laugh follow her reaction and praise ('omigod' is praise, when you're a god), that follows her as she rushes for the Sanctum. It isn't cruel laughter, there can be a lighter side to Loki, but he's very clearly enjoying the game. She IS playing it, after all.

Black Cat has posed:
Pawn as she might be in a game between opposing mystical parties, the thief remains at least cognizant enough of her own volition to pause after crossing the threshold of the free-mounted doorway. She again claps a hand over her mouth to stopper up some emotionally-mangled sound and hyperventilates for a second before she turns around and sticks her head back out into the moonlit quiet of the beach's surroundings.

"Th...thank you! You're...a great person! A very nice guy! I really appreciate it!" Airy, relieved laughter bubbles to be cut off with a force of self-control. "And I like the whole Harlequin Rennaisance look you had going on there, you should try LARPing sometime! Classy stuff," Felicia adds in a heady (and admittedly risky) wash of charm.

Then, she makes to pull the door shut with a sharp snap and dissolving of its presence.