[center][img]https://i.postimg.cc/MKK5m0sX/Kid-s-Hat-2.png[/img]

[b]Level:[/b] [color=8258fa]4 (24 -> 37 -> 39/40)[/color]
[b]Location:[/b] [color=8258fa]Ancestral Farmstead[/color]
[b]Word Count:[/b] [color=8258fa]756 (+2 EXP)[/color]

[color=8258fa]Stress Level:[/color] 95
[/center]

[i]Nice![/i] Hat Kid’s finishing blow drove some fragments of the Brachydios’ already fractured skull (courtesy of the Courier) with visibly explosive force that recoiled as colorful blowback almost twice as big as herself. This was her best result using this hat yet, and she was feeling rather proud of that, even if it didn’t immediately show. Though, it definitely added greatly to her striking power, it didn’t necessarily do the same for her constitution.

[color=8258fa]“Ow, ow, ow, ow…”[/color] she murmured silently to herself after sucking air through her teeth, gripping her sore hand at the base of her wrist. The delayed response came following her failed attempt to act cool and play off the pain as if there was none, but of course, this usually happened when she tried to hit things with her own hands. Suffice to say she hadn’t miraculously grown accustomed to it within the day, and she made the rookie mistake of assuming a little extra power would solve her durability problem. It would take her some getting used to before getting to grips with the new hat and its powers well enough to use them [i]properly[/i].

She stood among the drifting ashes where she sank through the creature’s dissipating form, wondering where the sun went as she beheld the returning night sky once more. This place was a little too loose and sporadic with its ether-borne day/night cycles for her liking. At least now it finally settled on something more normal with a neutral (read [i]zero[/i]) effect on the psyche, and a soothing one on the spirit. With some exceptions, spirits seemed to be mostly high. One of the resident new guys passed around eager commendations to everyone on their part in helping him do his job, the bubbly as ever Linkle extended them to her own reflection, talking to it like she was going crazy (she probably was), Tora and Poppi dancing in celebration like no one could see them, all while the Koopa Troop cleaned the battlefield of leftover spirits for later divvying up. That was certainly for the best. They could all fight over what to keep later when they had the energy to spare for it. In the meantime, the child decided to blow off some of what she had left of hers by joining the dancing pair, jubilantly fist pumping and skipping up next to them--high fiving Linkle on the way over--and smoothly transitioning into her own [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OaVHCwtQOCg]dance[/url], which she would continue to do until everyone started to load up for departure.

[hr]

Rather than nodding off as some had opted to, Hat Kid took her seat leaning criss-crossed against the short tailgate so she could still get a decent view of the horizon and landscape during the ride back. She slowly, gently, idly rocked and swayed while contentedly stargazing until Linkle playing with her new cryokinetic powers caught her attention. She raised a hand for the heroine to toss her one of the toy ice constructs only to realize upon catching it was a mistake that was. It was freezing to the touch ([color=8258fa][i]Duh![/i][/color]), almost as if it would stick to her hand if she held onto it for much longer than a couple of seconds. She reactively, clumsily juggled the freshly made ice shape for a handful of passes between hands until she accidentally let it get away from her over the side, quickly righting herself to make sure she didn’t go with it.

She smiled looking at the trail of discarded crystal littering the fields behind them, her eyes trailing back to the stars, then to her shaky hand. It trembled not from playing hot potato with an icy sphere, or from having hurt it punching a dragon in the skull earlier, but it was due to the fact that her nerves were still shot from stress that she had yet to adequately relieve herself of. Realizing this, she nervously clutched her one hand still with the other, looking about to see if anyone else had noticed. Luckily, they were either asleep or otherwise preoccupied, so she was saved some embarrassment. She then retracted both hands into her sleeves and tucked them under her arms--both for appearances and out of legitimate need for warmth. Heavy stress and anxiety tended to bring on a chill in some. It was just another reason for her restlessness, besides simply not wanting to sleep yet… not until she found a proper place for it, where she could briefly journal the day’s experiences before laying her head down.