[What brings Summer out of her living arrangements and into the fray on a night like this isn't actually the mandate to protect the town; no, it's the somewhat more self-serving personal mandate to make sure that the community garden doesn't get destroyed in the fray, because, well. People use that to eat, herself strongly included.
The problem is, she's not exactly one for precision or, y'know, aiming when in combat, and using her usual tactics in such close proximity to the garden stands a good chance of actually destroying the thing outright herself, which somewhat limits her options of how to deal with impending wolves. Fortunately, there's always hammerspace, which when used creatively is a fairly versatile weapon in its own right —
Except that, y'know. What goes in must eventually come out. But oh, well. She'll worry about that come daylight.
Actually, no. Secondary problem. And that problem is, there's only one door between this world and her hammerspace, and once she's got one wolf inside, the prospect of opening up that same door to shove another one in just got a whole hell of a lot more dangerous.
And that's actually how you might spot her, zipping around in her cloak of shadows with her bright red hair like a beacon in the moonlight, hoping to lead a wolf away from the garden and back toward the woods while she does some very fast thinking — and a whole lot of cursing under her breath.]
II. FUCKUP
[Unfortunately, all this expenditure of magical ability is not without its costs. It's one thing to play music for a few hours at a small-town dance; it's another thing to have herself armed with flight spells and fireballs, opening and closing doors into hammerspace left and right, and to maintain that heightened state of combat awareness for hours and hours into the evening. Magical batteries, after all, only hold so much of a charge. It's only natural that something's got to give.
Unfortunately, it happens to give while she's hovering in midair. One second she's aloft, and the next second she's plummeting like a rock toward the ground.]
Shit — !
[Whoops. Someone might want to catch her, or that impact's going to be rough.]
[As the days wear on and on, Summer keeps finding herself inexorably tugged toward the woods, and she can't explain why. It's not like her to feel so compelled to hurl herself into what she knows is Wolf Country, and therefore certain peril, but there's something about it that keeps her going back — the certainty that there's something out there she needs to find, even if she doesn't know what it is.
Day after day, she winds up out there, ink-black cloak dragging along the ground behind her as she wanders in a vain attempt to alleviate the feeling that there's something she's not doing, something that she's supposed to be doing; she hates nature and she hates the woods and she'd clearly rather be anywhere else than out here where she knows the wolves are, and yet here she is.
And she's not exactly being quiet about it, either. It's almost like she's trying to keep herself company by talking aloud to herself, making noise as she trudges around on her latest search.]
Miss Red Cloak smiles, one eyelid flickers; she whips a pistol from her knickers. She aims it at the creature's head, and bang bang bang, she shoots him dead —
[...Someone's having a great time, evidently.]
IV. WILDCARD
[Wildcard! If you want to run into Summer somewhere else, hit me up and I'll write a prompt for you!]
no subject
[What brings Summer out of her living arrangements and into the fray on a night like this isn't actually the mandate to protect the town; no, it's the somewhat more self-serving personal mandate to make sure that the community garden doesn't get destroyed in the fray, because, well. People use that to eat, herself strongly included.
The problem is, she's not exactly one for precision or, y'know, aiming when in combat, and using her usual tactics in such close proximity to the garden stands a good chance of actually destroying the thing outright herself, which somewhat limits her options of how to deal with impending wolves. Fortunately, there's always hammerspace, which when used creatively is a fairly versatile weapon in its own right —
Except that, y'know. What goes in must eventually come out. But oh, well. She'll worry about that come daylight.
Actually, no. Secondary problem. And that problem is, there's only one door between this world and her hammerspace, and once she's got one wolf inside, the prospect of opening up that same door to shove another one in just got a whole hell of a lot more dangerous.
And that's actually how you might spot her, zipping around in her cloak of shadows with her bright red hair like a beacon in the moonlight, hoping to lead a wolf away from the garden and back toward the woods while she does some very fast thinking — and a whole lot of cursing under her breath.]
II. FUCKUP
[Unfortunately, all this expenditure of magical ability is not without its costs. It's one thing to play music for a few hours at a small-town dance; it's another thing to have herself armed with flight spells and fireballs, opening and closing doors into hammerspace left and right, and to maintain that heightened state of combat awareness for hours and hours into the evening. Magical batteries, after all, only hold so much of a charge. It's only natural that something's got to give.
Unfortunately, it happens to give while she's hovering in midair. One second she's aloft, and the next second she's plummeting like a rock toward the ground.]
Shit — !
[Whoops. Someone might want to catch her, or that impact's going to be rough.]
III. SEARCH (closed to
[As the days wear on and on, Summer keeps finding herself inexorably tugged toward the woods, and she can't explain why. It's not like her to feel so compelled to hurl herself into what she knows is Wolf Country, and therefore certain peril, but there's something about it that keeps her going back — the certainty that there's something out there she needs to find, even if she doesn't know what it is.
Day after day, she winds up out there, ink-black cloak dragging along the ground behind her as she wanders in a vain attempt to alleviate the feeling that there's something she's not doing, something that she's supposed to be doing; she hates nature and she hates the woods and she'd clearly rather be anywhere else than out here where she knows the wolves are, and yet here she is.
And she's not exactly being quiet about it, either. It's almost like she's trying to keep herself company by talking aloud to herself, making noise as she trudges around on her latest search.]
Miss Red Cloak smiles, one eyelid flickers; she whips a pistol from her knickers. She aims it at the creature's head, and bang bang bang, she shoots him dead —
[...Someone's having a great time, evidently.]
IV. WILDCARD
[Wildcard! If you want to run into Summer somewhere else, hit me up and I'll write a prompt for you!]