Noodle watched Rider out of the corner of her eye.
This infernal routine was taking far, far too long. Their mutual favorite book series was being sold in a full set at the local bookstore, and they were wasting time making sure the new car was in order. For the third time. Noodle was fully aware that Rider despised cold weather just as much as she did, and knew that her Familiar was even more of a book fan, so she was understandably perplexed as to why this was taking so long.
A third adjustment to the rear-view mirror, a minute adjustment of the heater, and Rider sighed. Dressed in her casual wear - black sweater, dark jeans, glasses over her gray eyes - she was a picture of any normal person. And then, she laid her hand upon the gearshift, and her instinct as a Rider came alive. A spark danced between her and the vehicle, and it felt as if she held the reins to a horse's bridle. As she gently turned the ignition, and revved the engine, a fire lit up in her gut and quickly leaped out to course from her limbs. The car's engine was like a steed's heartbeat, its tires were positively pawing at the asphalt in anticipation, it was begging her to be pushed to its limits, to be forced to break those limits. Behind her glasses, Rider's eyes turned distant, filled with cold fire.
Noodle gave a quiet gulp. Wellp. It appeared that they were going to be making it to the sale with time to spare. "Um, Rider," she said quietly, "You ah, do recall the speed limit?" Rider looked at her quizzically. Oh no. Oh no no no. What had they said about this city in the brochures? Noodle quickly snatched one from beneath the seat whilst Rider entranced herself with the rumbling engine. The Speed City, Kayubargg! No Speed Limits - Nooooooo no no no no! "Rider, contain yourself - " Too late.
Rider grabbed the gearshift, and expertly put it in fifth. Only a woman possessed would use fifth gear in a city street, and it seemed that a woman possessed was exactly what Rider had just become. With no more warning, she floored the gas pedal, and the wheels screamed loudly. Or perhaps that was Noodle? All Noodle knew was that there was screaming, and smoke outside her window, and then, the world outside her window melted into streaks and blurs. Front-wheel drive, ten cylinders, pure octane sending them tearing down the street, and when the other drivers saw the gaze that Rider ran them through on, they parted the Red Sea and gave the hellion woman a wide berth.
In the end, no one died or was maimed on the way down to the bookstore. Somehow. When Noodle wobbled out of the car, sick and scared, Rider retrieved a rag - from who-knew-where - and began to wipe down the unmarred hood. Shaking her head clear, Noodle made her way in with the money in order.
What worried her was that now, Rider had become bonded to that car.
They were going to have to bring it with them when they left.
It was going to be so difficult to transport...
This infernal routine was taking far, far too long. Their mutual favorite book series was being sold in a full set at the local bookstore, and they were wasting time making sure the new car was in order. For the third time. Noodle was fully aware that Rider despised cold weather just as much as she did, and knew that her Familiar was even more of a book fan, so she was understandably perplexed as to why this was taking so long.
A third adjustment to the rear-view mirror, a minute adjustment of the heater, and Rider sighed. Dressed in her casual wear - black sweater, dark jeans, glasses over her gray eyes - she was a picture of any normal person. And then, she laid her hand upon the gearshift, and her instinct as a Rider came alive. A spark danced between her and the vehicle, and it felt as if she held the reins to a horse's bridle. As she gently turned the ignition, and revved the engine, a fire lit up in her gut and quickly leaped out to course from her limbs. The car's engine was like a steed's heartbeat, its tires were positively pawing at the asphalt in anticipation, it was begging her to be pushed to its limits, to be forced to break those limits. Behind her glasses, Rider's eyes turned distant, filled with cold fire.
Noodle gave a quiet gulp. Wellp. It appeared that they were going to be making it to the sale with time to spare. "Um, Rider," she said quietly, "You ah, do recall the speed limit?" Rider looked at her quizzically. Oh no. Oh no no no. What had they said about this city in the brochures? Noodle quickly snatched one from beneath the seat whilst Rider entranced herself with the rumbling engine. The Speed City, Kayubargg! No Speed Limits - Nooooooo no no no no! "Rider, contain yourself - " Too late.
Rider grabbed the gearshift, and expertly put it in fifth. Only a woman possessed would use fifth gear in a city street, and it seemed that a woman possessed was exactly what Rider had just become. With no more warning, she floored the gas pedal, and the wheels screamed loudly. Or perhaps that was Noodle? All Noodle knew was that there was screaming, and smoke outside her window, and then, the world outside her window melted into streaks and blurs. Front-wheel drive, ten cylinders, pure octane sending them tearing down the street, and when the other drivers saw the gaze that Rider ran them through on, they parted the Red Sea and gave the hellion woman a wide berth.
In the end, no one died or was maimed on the way down to the bookstore. Somehow. When Noodle wobbled out of the car, sick and scared, Rider retrieved a rag - from who-knew-where - and began to wipe down the unmarred hood. Shaking her head clear, Noodle made her way in with the money in order.
What worried her was that now, Rider had become bonded to that car.
They were going to have to bring it with them when they left.
It was going to be so difficult to transport...