Damsel in Disgust

Sk8 City 
11 PM

 Minerva was a passenger to her emotions. It was something she was not quite aware of - that her feelings moved the steering wheel, and she was strapped in to go wherever they took her. Tonight was no different, but rather than childish joy, or the heavy grief that had sat on her for many days now, anger drove.

 Anger was not an emotion that Minerva was intimately familiar with, but rather something of an acquaintance. Sparks of it had risen here and there throughout her life - another child taking her toy, a parent denying her the material thing she wanted, a loved one suffering an injustice. This was different. It felt active and hot, ever-present, building pressure in a neat little package deep inside of her. Worries about the recurring nightmare striking again when she went to bed sat far away, overshadowed by dark, shamefully-considered fantasies of doing terrible things in a bid for revenge.

 The skate rink closed in one hour, and anyway it was not very populated at this time on a Tuesday night. She had been here for some time now, taking advantage of the steadily emptying floor as a means to exhaust herself by the time they made her leave. It was a little therapeutic at first - she had to focus on standing properly in the inline skates, had to be mindful of not losing her feet and watching how she stepped to keep from falling over. Now, she had it down to a rhythm that she didn’t even have to think about. Left leg, right leg, left leg, right leg, all in a smooth pattern, torso leaning forward slightly, hands swinging in time at her sides. Not having to be super conscious of her physical movements made it all too easy to slide back into that dark place in her mind.

 Being preoccupied with her unsavory thoughts also meant it was easy to pay less attention to the path before her and make a sudden mistake. And that she did, abruptly slamming into someone as they tried to step into the rink from the carpeted entrance.


If he hadn’t be entirely sure the psychic he’d fed on a while back that might’ve worked here had forgotten anything, Tikanni would’ve considered this place off his radar for life, or least until she seemingly moved or something. As it was, that suggestion had totally stuck and so he was still free to roam the roller skating rink. Just to be sure, he’d kept an eye out and thankfully hadn’t seen her yet.

So, as it stood, Tikanni was going to make the most of the time he had on the rink before it closed. There were upbeat tunes playing he was lightly singing along to while tying the skates that glowed under the occasional fluorescent lights. Finally ready, he carefully stood up and was making his way across the carpet in a scooching foot attempt.

Finally, stepping on the rink, Tikanni hadn't expected someone to suddenly slam into him. Alarm, confusion, what even, all of it washed through him as he let out a, "Oof!" Falling to the ground as his flailed hand in attempt to grip the side was nothing compared to momentum and tripping back on the edge of the carpet. Taking a moment to figure out what had just happened, he blinked and pulled legs and hands closer to himself in an effort to roll to more of a sit and get out of the way of anyone else. ”Sorry,” he apologized while shooting a look up and, oh. He blinked again just to be sure. Minerva?

 The collision was abrupt, and the other person landed with a clatter as Minerva clawed at the wall to keep herself upright - once steady, she put a hand to her chest, where she'd hit the poor guy, sternum aching and... crucifix warm. She blinked, expression one of mild shock as she looked down at the man. Either he was a vampire, or someone else very close by was. Still reeling, there was a temptation to yell at him, to be meaner than she could really manage to be at all.

 Instead, as good at confrontation as she was at math, Minerva managed a small, sheepish smile, closed-lipped and apologetic. "It's my bad, I wasn't paying attention," she assured the stranger. Her heart hammered, immediately nervous at the idea of the supernatural being out and about in this rink. It was eleven o'clock at night, after all, she realized with a nice sprinkling of self-depreciation. Duh. "You okay?" For all her nerves, she could not bring herself to be cruel to him, potential vampire or not. There were other people here, anyway. Surely a vampire would not be so bold to attack here.

It was the oddest thing to have her be here here, as in this place of all places. Of course she could theoretically be anywhere he’d be, but it was just jarring when not expecting it. And with a wave of regret, he realized she’d have no memory of him. Which was, in the end, for the best as a quick ressurange of her scared face came up to remind him as much.

The apology spurred him into action, making to push himself up. ”You’re fine and uh, I think so.”

”At least unless my legs decide to do a bit of an oliver twist, aha.” Trying to stand as best as possible with wheels on his feet, Tikanni shot her an unsure smile at the slow ascent. Arms out, it was managed, albeit shaky until he was fully standing. ”See spiffytastic.” And he shifted his weight and lurched a tad with wide eyes, but was ultimately fine.

 At least the man didn't snap at her or otherwise react to the crash in an ugly way. Instead, he was quick to assure her it was no problem and that he was unharmed. She stood by as he got to his feet, half-tempted to offer a helping hand. She refrained, but smiled a little all the same at his use of the phrase "oliver twist." It sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it - she was more hung up on trying to decide whether or not it was just a goofy pun.

 Spiffytastic, though, was worthy of a laugh. And so she did, a soft sound that came with an expression of wonder. "Spiffy...tastic," she repeated back to him slowly, her typical friendliness tempered by her wary uncertainty. The man seemed nice enough, and she was reminded of Marybeth again... how if he was a vampire, that didn't have to mean he was bad but. What if he was? She didn't know what to do with herself. Maybe it was some kind of sick intrigue that kept her from just skating off.

 "What's your name?" she prompted casually. She hadn't known her attacker's name. It seemed like good information to have.

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