Everything's packed.

***

There was a long conversation with Tom and Carl about advisories and seniors in the city and how to balance errantry with schoolwork. "The most important thing is not to burn yourself out," Carl told her. "On either responsibility. You're not much good as a wizard if you've used up all your energy on schoolwork, but you're not much good as a student if you've spent all week on an intervention somewhere." He threw a look at Tom. "It's a balancing act that those of us who don't work from home have to deal with."

Tom gave him a serene smile before adding, "But take advantage of being at school. The Powers respect education, and the advisories and seniors down here do, too. There are other wizards who can pick up the slack."

"You mean younger ones," Nita replied, wry, and ran a hand through her hair. "Jesus, I'm going to college. I feel so old."

"And what does that make us?" Tom asked mildly.

". . . Wise?"

Carl laughed. "Ah, the joys of youth, wasted on the young, et cetera et cetera. You're going to have a great time, Nita."

"Just don't get indiscriminately drunk." Tom shot a look at his partner, smiling. "And don't let any boys take advantage of you."

"Tom . . ."

"Or girls."

"Carl!"

***

"Liused, I'm . . . going away for a while."

The rowan's leaves rustled, more inquisitive than anything. Going where?

"School, in the city. It's not far, but I won't be here most of the time."

Acknowledgment from the tree, and a sense of patient listening.

"I just thought I should tell you. I mean, Dad will take good care of you."

Of course.

"I didn't want you to worry."

The pattern of light and shadow through the tree's leaves shifted as it rustled again, this time in gentle amusement. Are you worried for me, little one, or for yourself?

". . . For me," she admitted after a moment. "It's a big change."

She could feel the way Liused's trunk supported her back, could almost feel its roots down beneath her. Such is Life, little one. Don't worry. I watched you fall out of my branches and land safely often enough.

"With a few bruises," she pointed out, dry.

Well, isn't that Life, too? The winds may blow down a branch or two, but you're the stronger for weathering it.

"Yeah." She looked down at the scars on her arms, pale even in the shifting shade. "That's Life."

A bright red berry dropped from the branches into her lap, like a friendly nudge on the shoulder. For a sapling, you've weathered plenty of storms already. You have good roots. And you know -- there was a soft crack, and a softer thump as a straight branch some twelve inches long tumbled to the lawn -- there's always help if you need it. Losing a branch to help another is no great loss.

As she reached for the wand, the familiar gift, Liused repeated, Don't worry.

She smiled, looking up into the branches. "I won't."

***

The room where her mother died is very quiet.

Nita spends an hour in there.

It's very quiet the whole time, and it's very quiet when she leaves.

***

And then the last things are thrown into bags, bags are thrown into the car, the drive is full of Beatles songs and end-of-summer greenery, and the city is, well, the city, packed with parents and students.

"Call if you need anything at all," her dad tells her, once all her bags have been unloaded and dragged up to her room.

"I will."

He stands looking at her for a long moment, smiling, and then pulls her into a tight hug. "I am so proud of you, honey."

She hugs back, just as tight. "Yeah, I know. I love you, daddy."

"I love you too, honey." He kisses the top of her head. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"Of course I will." She breaks the hug to look at him with a (slightly watery) smile. "You've gotta get on the road if you're going to get enough sleep for work tomorrow."

He laughs. "Slave-driver."

"Wh-pssh."

One last hug. "Love you."

"Love you too."

She steps back, waving as he gets into the car. "Call me when you get home!" she calls as he starts the engine; he waves acknowledgment, backs out, and heads for the street.

Nita stands there for a moment, takes a deep breath, and turns to head in before he's out of sight. It's a little easier not to be sad that way.

Of course, as it turns out, in the whirlwind of unpacking and meeting hallmates and buying textbooks and learning where on earth she can get food and discovering her suitemate's penchant for studying in her underwear and orientation and a million and one other things . . . she forgets completely to be sad.

Just like in wizardry, she thinks, in the brief minute that she notices. There's just too much to do!

She likes it that way.

Good ways to wake up:

Sprawled in a luxurious bed, slightly sore, but very satisfied.

Even better ways to wake up:

All of the above, plus a warm (really, downright hot) body.

Nita stretches, groaning, and rolls over with more I'm awake but I'm trying not to be noises.

[ooc: Warning for sexual content.]

Nita got Chainsaw's note later the same night.

It occasioned another bout of fuming, which she knows is stupid, because in the course of her first bout of fuming, she already regretted about seventy percent of the things she said in their argument. She shouldn't be so mad at him.

Finally, she leaves a note in return.

I think so am I. Should we talk?

After that, she gets a pot of tea and takes it to a table near Bar to keep an eye out for a certain torturer.

For once, Nita has found Christmas shopping for someone easy -- all she needed was a trip to the duty-free shop at the Crossings, a nice gift bag, and plenty of padding to disguise the sound of glass (and other analogous materials) clinking.

She's planning on leaving the gift with Bar if she doesn't run into Chainsaw first.

( Tom Riddle )

---

( Moiraine Sedai )

Occasionally, Nita does leave the bar. Errantry takes you many places.

Tonight, it took her to a party in New York. And a party requires one dress for it.

She gets back to the bar late, slightly giggly on champagne and yawning.

[ooc: Adult content warning!]

The next day, Nita is . . .

. . . still asleep. On her stomach.

Her pillow is acquiring an impressive drool stain.

Hey, real life is not elegant.

[ooc: Warning for violence and sex in linked post.]

A day passes.

Nita has been in the office once or twice during the day to deal with paperwork and to attempt to question Jasmine again (still nothing; she's starting to seriously contemplate using wizardry to get a few simple answers), but has otherwise avoided it.

Which, she tells herself, is ridiculous. She has to talk to him, and she has no good reason to be afraid of him while he's celled.

(The more reasonable parts of her say no, it's all right that she's afraid. After all, they're probably both hurting because of the other, and that's awkward and scary, especially when he and she--

The less reasonable parts of her tend to cover their ears and shake their heads violently at that point in the train of thought, and the more reasonable parts sigh and sit back, confident that she'll start listening to them sooner or later.)

In any case, though, the fact that she comes to visit at night, late, when she can't sleep and she hopes he might be . . . that's telling.

Brr. It's gotten chilly out at Milliways.

Nita's out for a walk by the lakeside, swathed in a sweatshirt with the hood up and watching the stars.

[ooc: Aaand warning for sexual content.]

From here.

Warning for explicit sexual content, in this post and that one.