Liir was spending a rare evening in his bunk, reading one of his magic texts and considering a project. His discussion with Cal the other day had gotten him considering the subject of memory again and so his focus had returned to his books for the moment even if the soccer ball at the corner of his little bunk was sort of calling to him.

[open for cabinmates and one other, all others come before Ino chronologically but tag in as you like]

The carpet bag was almost full.

He wasn't bringing any of his books; they would be too heavy and the idea of losing any of them was not something he wanted to contemplate. He wasn't bringing anything that should he have to leave it behind, he would be upset.

Other than the broom, of course, but he'd be using that to travel.

He left the suit he'd bought the other day on his bunk and made sure he'd put the clothes he'd come in in the bag. Unfortunately, he'd well grown out of them but they'd be perfect if he needed to look a street urchin again. Some small supplies of food were in there as well, carefully sealed so as not to dirty up the rest, and he'd left a spot open for him to store his coin once he went to the bank and got some proper currency. There was even some space open, hopefully, for what he'd be getting Ino.

Done. He was done. He was prepared.

But was he ready?

[establishy, but curtain and post are open to cabinmates]

Liir sat up.

His hand tightened around the broom and his muscles ached just a bit from not being in much use for over a day. He'd have to keep that in mind: staying out of his body for a day made for a sore morning. Though, as he discovered a moment later, also a morning refreshed.

His mind was clear. His heart, well. His heart twinged faintly as he thought of it and the bed seemed terribly lonely... but he could think. He could feel beyond just pain. The ache of the last few weeks was perhaps not erased, but it was certainly more manageable. He Was beyond it. He Was separate from it.

He stood on somewhat wobbly legs and started to get changed before he reconsidered and wrapped himself in a towel. A shower. He felt sticky, as if he needed to be washed off. Then, to work.

And for the first time since Trindle and Bell had left, the day ahead simply Was.

[establishy]

The skin was pale, clammy, and shivered like a machine with a missing gear. The eyes were closed. The body was lain haphazardly on the bunk, as if thrown there and forgotten.

Flesh, bone, blood, tears, muscle, ligaments, cartilage: it was all there, wrapped up in a neat little human package. Black hair, black clothes, head, shoulders, knees, toes; the cloak at the feet, the broom in the hand.

But the boy was gone.

[establishy][and no, he's not dead][for clarification, he just looks like he's in a restless sleep]

He'd found what he'd been looking for.

His black clothes were a bit ragged and there were a few inconsequential scraps and cuts on his face, but he had what he'd wanted. He had Ino's 'broom'. Or rather, the branch she would use to fly; he wouldn't make it an actual broom if he could help it even if it would probably be easier, magically speaking, the other way. He also had a branch to learn on, to experiment with. It was that branch which was with him now; the other was stashed in his alcove, well cleaned and out of the way.

He'd not had a knife to work on it with, so he'd grabbed one from the kitchen and he'd make due. Perhaps he'd dull the thing beyond repair but if so, he wasn't afraid of paying for repairs and it might have someone providing him with the means (or at least the directions) for obtaining a knife for this kind of work in the future.

For the moment, he sat in the lounge and looked at the branch, looked at the knife, and considered them both thoroughly before putting the blade to the wood and starting to carve.

[ooc: open for cabinmates like living room posts are!]