teach me, miss litchi!

Truth/Dare: Be reasonable with the dares! If you start getting ridiculous no one will want to do them; characters aren’t really obligated to do all the dares they receive. Don’t forget about the truth part as well!

Situation: Give the character another character or characters, a place and a reason in order to create some interesting thread ideas (if both parties are willing to do it that is)! For example: You could send an ask to Ventus saying: “Roxas, Sector oo6, clothes shopping”.

Headcanon: Anons send the character a word, or a name and you may write a small/long headcanon about said word!

“Excuse me! Are you alright? Is something the matter…?”

The girl looked up, wide-eyed as she tried to reorient herself to reality. “Huh? Um, no, I’m fine,” she said, breaking eye contact. Who was this woman, and how did she know Filia was having trouble? Was she just a friendly stranger who noticed her distraught expression?

“Well, I mean I’m okay, but my hair isn’t… I think he’s sick.” She gestured up at the Parasite attached to the back of her head, who looked quite unwell, even for a monster impersonating a head of hair. A long tongue hung limply from the side of his mouth as dull, yellow eyes opened at the mention of him.

“Wuh? Kid, we at the pharmacy yet? I think I’m gonna be sick again…”

Litchi heard that right... right? Hair that got sick? It could have been construed as a figure of speech, but the hairs actions were quick to put that theory to rest too. Surely it wasn't Ars Magus either, so what exactly could grant hair sentience to that degree?

Questions would have continued to plague her had she not snapped back to reality in time to prevent the stranger and her--friend?--from leaving. Litchi was more versed in human remedies, but she had accosted the girl and she'd feel bad about not trying something. It'd be a learning experience, at least. And she could stop the streets from being littered with giant furballs.

...And she'd look cute in a cheongsam, wouldn't she?

Litchi's hands clapped together in newfound resolve, a frantic smile spreading across her face (although she did her best to contain herself.) "I-I don't have anything with me now, but--!"

And so she continued to fight it, even if the pain screamed at her to just drop on the spot and let a cool unconsciousness soothe her. She couldn’t do that to herself… to the city. 

And just when she thought she had had enough, a voice broke through the ringing in her ears, an angelic inquiry to her status. Usually Fukawa would immediately rebuke any offer to help, especially from a stranger. Their sick, fake pity. But this time was different, this was a matter of keeping that person at bay, and she bit back her backwards pride and instead of answering, simply stumbled towards the source, chin tilted upwards so she made sure not to see a single speck.]

….

[Come on say it.]

…H-Help.

Fortunately, even though the smaller female's face made it clear she'd rather not, that help was accepted.

"Oh my..." The elder's voice was frantic as she gave a quick once-over, immediately spotting the problem. It definitely wasn't blood loss that left the girl so sickly, but she could tell it was a messy and painful wound either way. Litchi motioned to an empty crate that sat against the building, a prompt for the girl to sit down so she could begin.

"Now, now, it's okay. You're not feeling lightheaded are you? Can you tell me what happened?"

Her voice was calm as she knelt beside the girl, setting down the small bag that had hung off her arm. From inside came a roll of gauze and bottle of solution, and her hands went at work quickly to begin cleaning what she could.

It should have been easy. Flooring a couple of third rate thugs would have been as easy as breathing for Sol Badguy. Unfortunately, this city took it’s toll on him. He wasn’t as powerful as he usually was. And while he did manage to take down some 30 men by himself, he received a few scars and wounds for his trouble. His regeneration was kicking in, but the process was much slower than usual. Add to that a few gunshots to the chest and it’s bound to leave him reeling. And this sets up the scene for this encounter.

“Hmm?”

The woman cut him off as he was making his way to his apartment to heal in peace. By all means he should have just ignored her, but something told him that she wasn’t the type to just let someone walk by. Just great.

An eyebrow was raised at his response. Even if he was walking, which she would admit was a miracle in and of itself, the wounds spoke for themselves, at volumes much higher than the man's growls.

"You shouldn't try to kid a professional, you know. I may not look the part, but I know what's more than a scratch when I see it." Her tone danced the line of playful and serious, if anything sounding more like a doting mother with 80% less patronizing.

A hand was motioned to a nearby crate, just the size for someone to sit on, while the other reached into the small bag hanging off her arm. She traveled light for the most part, but a bottle of saline and bandages always found their way with her. Not that she minded--in fact, if anything she brought them especially for moments like these.