It comes and goes within the span of a moment: there is no flash of gold, no fanfare, no out-of-body tug. It is simply that, in one moment, Ruby has full and easy control of her body. In the next, there is the painless but disorienting pressure of being joined in the driver's seat, and she (they) acts on a reflex that isn't her (their) own. They jolt forward to grab at the Fluid, a beat too late to stop Oscar sprinting off with it.
There is a distant clatter, a yelped reassurance, the slam of a door. Ruby's arm falls again, returned to her own power. In her mind, Ozpin shifts away from the front.
(If she will not respect his autonomy as an individual—)
(She is eighteen. She is exerting her newfound control over him in ultimately harmless ways. Stanford would not believe such a message to be him; it is not even an effective humiliation. He owes her patience.)
(Ozpin settles back with a distinct air of simmering irritation, anyway.) ]
'I see you're enjoying yourself.' [ He does not sound pleased. ] 'Tell me, how do you intend to make good on this romantic Friday evening date, given our condition? I don't imagine you will be joining Stanford for a dinner by candlelight.'
[It's a disorienting experience, something Ruby hadn't expected. A flash of panic bleeds through the emotional connection they have. Along with the distinct memories of Ruby's body being controlled by puppet strings by Bill just over a week ago.
She steels herself and tries to push those memories down. This.... wasn't the same thing. She kept mentally repeating that to herself until she it stuck.
She watches in the backseat of her own eye as Ozpin tries to get a hold of the fluid but Oscar makes his escape successfully.
She feels the irritation as he hands over the controls back to her and she flops back on her bed. Her breathing calming down at the loss of control.]
I was just trying to do a good deed. Come on, I got you a date after all.
[The next words hit her like a truck and she just lays there for a second. For about a solid minute she can't think of a proper response but eventually she settles on one that suits the situation.]
Fuck.
[She rolls over and buries herself in her pillow for a minute. Maybe if she suffocates the both of them, Oz will end up in an older, more age appropriate body and she can just expire.
Eventually she pulls herself out from pillow and says.]
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[ Sent.
It comes and goes within the span of a moment: there is no flash of gold, no fanfare, no out-of-body tug. It is simply that, in one moment, Ruby has full and easy control of her body. In the next, there is the painless but disorienting pressure of being joined in the driver's seat, and she (they) acts on a reflex that isn't her (their) own. They jolt forward to grab at the Fluid, a beat too late to stop Oscar sprinting off with it.
There is a distant clatter, a yelped reassurance, the slam of a door. Ruby's arm falls again, returned to her own power. In her mind, Ozpin shifts away from the front.
(If she will not respect his autonomy as an individual—)
(She is eighteen. She is exerting her newfound control over him in ultimately harmless ways. Stanford would not believe such a message to be him; it is not even an effective humiliation. He owes her patience.)
(Ozpin settles back with a distinct air of simmering irritation, anyway.) ]
'I see you're enjoying yourself.' [ He does not sound pleased. ] 'Tell me, how do you intend to make good on this romantic Friday evening date, given our condition? I don't imagine you will be joining Stanford for a dinner by candlelight.'
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She steels herself and tries to push those memories down. This.... wasn't the same thing. She kept mentally repeating that to herself until she it stuck.
She watches in the backseat of her own eye as Ozpin tries to get a hold of the fluid but Oscar makes his escape successfully.
She feels the irritation as he hands over the controls back to her and she flops back on her bed. Her breathing calming down at the loss of control.]
I was just trying to do a good deed. Come on, I got you a date after all.
[The next words hit her like a truck and she just lays there for a second. For about a solid minute she can't think of a proper response but eventually she settles on one that suits the situation.]
Fuck.
[She rolls over and buries herself in her pillow for a minute. Maybe if she suffocates the both of them, Oz will end up in an older, more age appropriate body and she can just expire.
Eventually she pulls herself out from pillow and says.]
I guess I got us a date.