[LOG] I don't need a new love or a new life [OPEN]

[myfavoritemurder]

Who: Callisto AND YOU
When: Mid-November
Where: Various places around town!
Summary: A feral warlord arrives in town and is about to make that everybody else's problem.
Warnings: N/A at the moment; will edit if that changes

A; ARRIVAL; OTA

[Callisto pops up in what she imagines to be some sort of shrine. It's unadorned and impersonal, giving her no hint about what god it's dedicated to, but there are basins to place offerings in and segregated booths for private contemplation, so she's pretty sure her initial guess is right on the money. For a long moment, she's still: her hand braced against the wall, and her eyes squeezed shut against the harsh bright light. Her head swims. Her legs nearly buckle.

But then she pushes through it. Despite the weakness and disorientation, she pushes off the wall and spins for the door, one hand on the hilt of the dagger in her belt. She's dressed head to toe in leather armor, wearing a sword strapped to her back, and to say she looks out of place would be an understatement - but there's no hint of self-consciousness to her as she strides down the hall, boots clicking on the hard floor.]

Who are you?

[She snaps at the first person she sees - though she is, of course, still speaking Ancient Greek by this point.]

What have you done with me?

B; ADJUSTMENTS; OTA

[The next several hours are an absolute whirlwind, and one that's more exhausting than energizing. Believing everything she's told, at least, isn't a problem: for a woman who comes from a world filled to the brim with gods and magic, ADI's explanation sounds perfectly reasonable to her. Being recruited, however, is a little more hairy. "Sure, I'll help you with your little apocalypse problem," she says to the ADI rep who does her intake. "But you'll have to do some things for me in return." And when they don't immediately promise to harness their considerable power and technology to help her destroy Xena, she balks. Hard.

It takes time, but a tentative agreement is reached. ADI might be unnecessarily squeamish about the idea of aiding and abetting her vengeance plans, but they do seem to be her best shot at returning home, and so she agrees to fight for them - reluctantly, and with strong conviction that she's getting the short end of the stick here, but she's faced down more hopeless-looking situations. She's sure she'll eventually find some way to leverage this one in her favor, too.

But honestly, the big-picture stuff is the easy part. It's the day to day stuff that's disorienting. Powerful, mysterious beings and travel between worlds is far easier for her to wrap her head around than a thin, hard rectangle that everyone insists isn't magic, even though it somehow holds currency and keeps track of her finances for her. And yet it's not long before she sees it in action, because after finishing up with all the preliminary introductions, the very first thing they do is hustle her off to find more "suitable" clothes - an idea that she dismisses as unnecessary only before they leave the building and hit the cold winter air. Others might encounter her on the street outside a clothing store, right after her very first car ride, leaning her forehead against the brick outer wall of the building and waiting for the waves of nausea to pass. Soon after, she can be found inside the clothing store itself, sorting through everything with a perplexed and critical eye. Coaxing her to pick up anything other than a winter coat and some snow pants might be a bit of a struggle.

ADI Housing is next, and after making sure she knows which apartment has been assigned to her, this is where the intake folks finally leave her to find her way on her own. For the next few hours, she just wanders, paying zero mind to the difference between public and private spaces. She investigates the gym and the laundry room (final verdict: complete and utter mysteries), but if anyone is prone to leaving their apartment door unlocked, they might also find her inside, poking through their stuff.

She is, on the whole, on the subdued side of things this evening, skulking around rather than stomping around. She rests in common areas, sitting on the floor, glaring unprompted at anyone who passes by. And when late evening comes and she starts hearing talk of the guards locking the doors soon, she heads for the exit - slipping out, rather than in, before curfew hits. Bundled up in her new coat and ski pants, she aimlessly wanders the downtown streets for a few hours, seeking out nothing in particular, simply getting the lay of the land. Bus stops end up being of particular interest to her, and though she never tries to board a bus herself, she always stops when she sees one coming, watching the passenger disembarkation and embarkation process with a vague sort of interest.]

Where do they go?

[She asks out loud, if there's anyone standing near her.]

What's the farthest anyone has ever traveled on one?

[They too must be magic, she reasons - maybe even mysterious and not well understood, like the forces that brought her here. If she gets on the right one, she wonders, will it whisk her away across worlds?]

C; ROOMMATES; CLOSED TO EMILY DYER

[When she's told that she's being assigned an apartment, Callisto initially dismisses the idea. She has little use for indoor spaces, particularly when it comes to living in them: she hasn't lived in a house since she was a teenager and hasn't felt at home in one since she was a child, and she doesn't see either of those things ever changing.

But once she gets a load of this world's climate, the indoors ends up being a bit more appealing, and she does have some level of curiosity about... well. All of this, honestly. This means that when Emily comes home, she'll find an unfamiliar winter coat and pair of snow pants spread out to dry on the living room floor, and a leather-clad stranger in the apartment kitchen, fiddling with the stove burners. She's got one lit at full blast, and is leaning in close, examining the writing on the control panel.]

Do you use these to cook?

[She asks, by way of greeting.]

Comments

[abrightboy]

Malcolm cocks his head slightly.

“Do you not have a home here?”

[myfavoritemurder]

She flashes him a smile, vicious and mocking and entirely empty behind the eyes.

"I don't have a home anywhere."

[abrightboy]

"I see. You're proud of it. But that's just to hide the pain behind. What happened to your home?" he asks curiously.

[myfavoritemurder]

And just like that, in a flash, she shifts. The smile drops away, replaced with a look of hot fury, and she takes several quick steps towards him - arms up, aiming to push him back against the wall opposite the door.

"Proud? I look proud to you? Is that what you think?"

[abrightboy]

He lets her push him, lets his back hit the wall.

“No,” he says simply. “You look angry. But what you’re showing me isn’t what’s interesting. It’s what you’re hiding that’s interesting. And this rage is protecting you, because I saw it. The pain that consumes you. If it helps, I can only see it because I know what that looks like.” A beat. “What it feels like. How old were you?”

[myfavoritemurder]

His calm in the face of her anger - in the face of her threat - only enrages her more, and she gives him a hard slam, hoping for him to at least bang his head. His words are completely glossed over, at least for now: she's still laser-focused on that first comment.

"No. Stop trying to distract me. You called me proud to have no home. Tell me, hmmm - would you be proud, if everything you knew and loved had been ripped away when you were just a child? Would you?"

Another slam.

[abrightboy]

He does hit his head. Not quite hard enough to see stars, but he’s sure he would if she tried.

“No,” he agrees. “I’m not.” He tilts his head slightly. “So what was that smile?” He’s asking himself more than her and he holds up a finger as he reaches a hypothesis. “You wanted it to scare me.”

[myfavoritemurder]

She doesn't try to slam him again, but she still holds him there, the length of her forearm pressed hard against his chest.

"You're not as smart or as insightful as you think you are."

[abrightboy]

“Probably not,” he concedes.

But she was a child, just as he’d suspected.

And when you’re a child, ‘everything’ is basically one thing.

“What happened to your family?”

cw: fire death

[myfavoritemurder]

"They were murdered. Burned to death," she spits, leaning in. "And I will never try to hide my pain behind anything, do you understand? You see it because I wish you to."

[abrightboy]

“Yes,” he replies. “We see each other now. I’m sorry for your loss.”

[myfavoritemurder]

"No, I really don't think we do. If you saw me, you'd be quaking with fear, but you aren't even fighting back."

She accentuates her point by digging an elbow into his ribcage, all but daring him to do something about it.

[abrightboy]

He winces and shifts a bit so it’s not quite as painful.

“I think you’ve been hurt enough.”

[myfavoritemurder]

"And if I ripped your throat open, just like this--"

She trails a finger over his neck, from one side to the other.

"Would you try to stop me?"

[abrightboy]

“I would. But why would you want to do that?” he asks.

[myfavoritemurder]

She doesn't answer. Her free hand goes to the sheath at her hip, and she pulls her out dagger, holding it up inches from his face.

"Do it, then," she hisses. "Push me off and prove that you'll stand up for yourself."

[abrightboy]

“Why is that important to you? Because you’d rather be someone who slaughters lions instead of lambs? The person that took everything from you… they slaughtered lambs, didn’t they?” he muses.

[myfavoritemurder]

Once again, his words go ignored. She flips the blade to the side, and if he lets her, she presses it lightly into the skin of his neck.

"Fight. Back."

[abrightboy]

“Are you really going to kill me if I don’t? An unarmed man in cold blood? What does that prove? Anyone can kill someone who’s no threat to them,” he points out.

[myfavoritemurder]

"You said you'd defend yourself if I threatened you. Were you lying?"

The knife stays where it is.

[abrightboy]

“No. I’m just trying to decide if you’re really threatening me,” Malcolm tells her. “Or if you’re trying to start a fight. I’m not interested in fighting you.”

[myfavoritemurder]

"Well, here's your answer."

And if he doesn't stop her, she'll dig the knife in - not hard enough to carry intent to kill, but hard enough to draw a thin line of blood.

[abrightboy]

In a little bit of FBI self defence, his hand grabs hers across the top, grasping the edge of it and he twists it, all in one swift movement meant to lock her shoulder and make her drop the knife.

He doesn’t try to run away, despite the trickle of blood he can feel at his throat.

[myfavoritemurder]

The move works perfectly, and she snarls, shoving at him with both elbow and knee as the dagger clatters to the floor. Still, there's a glint of dark satisfaction in her expression.

"Never lie about your willingness to stop me. I'll always call your bluff."

[abrightboy]

“I’ll always test how mindlessly you’re willing to hurt innocent people,” he retorts.