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

Entry tags:

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

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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She is also definitely wearing her really dumb, really skimpy armor, so enjoy the view, Abel.]

I'm here for no one.

[She says - studying the pastry, then taking another bite.]

Well. Now I suppose I'm here for this.

[ okay. ...okay. at this point, the two brain cells rattling around in his skull are beginning to Ruminate together and attempt to create a ~~thot~~ thought, here-- don't mind him as his expression becomes increasingly bewildered and vacant as her response sinks in. she's not here for anyone...? then, she wasn't looking for either of his roommates?? what,

...he is missing something. 'something.' costume party?? a little late for that by a few weeks... maybe there's something weird going on again and he is out of the loop? that wouldn't be entirely unsurprising. well, she seems to be enjoying the croissant, at least - who wouldn't?? croissants are amazing, and she hasn't tried to possess, maim, or otherwise harangue him yet so she probably isn't some kind of ghost sent from the medieval period to say, flay him alive or whatever it was they did back then. hm, if he's to get to the bottom of this, it requires some sleuthing. some detective work. some hard questions, and hard answers. so, naturally, Abel starts with the most important: ]

Say, um-- miss... [ chew, chew.... chew, ] Pardon me for asking, but... aren't you... cold?

[ ... ]

Would you like a jacket? Sweater...? A pair of comfy wool socks? Insulated~!

I have warm things, for outside.

[She says, casting a distasteful glance towards the window and the cold that waits beyond. Callisto is very much not an indoor person, but this style of winter weather? Definitely not her thing, and it's incredibly rude of The Powers That Be to have dragged her here in the middle of November.

(Not that she knows what "November" is yet. Details.) ]

But it's not cold in here, so I don't need it. And the clothing they sell in the shops are...

[She wrinkles her nose. Yeuch.]

[ ah. ...ah, so-- the likelihood of this being some kind of medieval apparition here to deliver some kind of justice to his mortal soul is decreasing, and likelihood she might just be one of his new?? neighbors...? is increasing. possibly,

Abel is gently and habitually adjusting the sit of his glasses on his face, leaving a little fingerprint of jam on the corner of one of the lenses....... hm, ]

Not a fan of the local fashion, I see...? Well, that's quite understandable-- I can't make much sense of it myself, and if someone were to ask my opinion? I would definitely say I'd prefer your style, miss!

[ f-for perfectly valid and chaste reasons, of course. haha, of course. because it's... unique. and....... shiny. yes, ]

Speaking of, do you mind if I ask where you're from? That is quite the distinctive look...!

And if you look too hard, I'll pull your eyes right out of your skull.

[She retorts, fixing him with a glare. She holds the expression for what might be uncomfortable length of time, still holding her half-eaten croissant in one hand, before she deigns to answer.]

I'm from Cirra. You won't have heard of it.

...Miss, don't you think that's taking the term 'getting an eyefull' a little too literally...?! P-please, I'm merely paying you a compliment!!

[ yeah, wow?? obviously,

...

okay but her stare is incredibly unnerving, so he's clearing his throat and averting his gaze rather quickly, mumbling something under his breath, ]

Cirra? ...Mm, you're right-- I'm afraid I haven't... Is that kind of... garb... common, where you're from? I suppose you've already discovered it's not quite the case, here! Um-- wait. Did I get your name--? S-silly me, I'm going and doing things all out of order, aren't I?

[ he's wiping his jam-hand off on his (white) shirt, before offering it aloft for a friendly handshake!! ]

I'm Abel-- Father Abel Nightroad, at your service! And who do I have the pleasure of having break-and-entering my apartment today?

[The smile she gives in response to that is bright and vicious, brushing flecks of croissant from her mouth as she looms closer to him.]

Mm-- no. I really don't think I'm taking anything too literally at all.

I'm Callisto. And whose father are you, Abel Nightroad?

[ ah. ...ah. Callisto leans in with a most menacing and ominous sneer, and Abel immediately leans back and away as every instinct he possesses bristles, ]

Miss Callisto~! Wh-what a pretty name...!

[ that is not a come-on, he is just being polite-- ]

--Ah, n-no, not father as in-- I'm a priest! A traveling priest? From Rome? --Vatican? It's an entirely different sort of 'father,' I assure you--

You serve a god.

[Is what she gets out of that, even if the religious life she's picturing is entirely different from Abel's. And speaking of...]

I've met Hades and Ares, you know. But I don't suppose you belong to either of them.

[ ...ah. Hades; Ares... the look of her garb-- he is beginning to use his Context Clues and trying to put together a picture, here. (it is probably not the correct picture.) ]

No no, I'm afraid I, ah, haven't had the pleasure-- but... miss, please forgive me for making you repeat yourself-- did you say you've met Hades?

[ listen. there have been some decidedly strange things in Gloucester that take getting used to -- but the prospect of sitting down to tea with Hades and Ares is a first?? ]

I was in Tartarus.

[She says matter-of-factly, with the full expectation that that'll clear up any confusion or surprise.]

Don't be too starstruck; he's really not that impressive, and he has no sense of humor about his wife.

Oh! In Tartarus. Right, right.

[ yes. totally cleared up. so glad they're on the same page, now. wonderful,

...are they even reading from the same book? questionable, ]

Really! Well, that's terribly disappointing, I have to say-- though I can hardly blame a man for considering his wife a sore spot. Isn't that a bit endearing...? You know, being dedicated and head-over-heels for one's dearly beloved? R-romantic~!

[ Abel's gesturing vaguely in the direction of the kitchen island where there are stools for sitting; he's wandering back in to fetch something for them to drink. ...since this is becoming a conversation. one must offer their guests refreshments, right?? never mind the fact she barged right in, water under the bridge, honestly, ]

Yeuch.

[Callisto proclaims, wrinkling her nose and making a face as if she's just tasted something awful.]

No, it's the opposite of endearing. Actually, it makes me want to vomit.

[She plonks herself down onto one of the stools, using the other as bootrest. It takes some balance, but she manages it.]

Well please refrain, if you'd be so kind--! I did not just feed you for you to make a mess in my kitchen, thank you very much.

[ he's wrinkling his nose in displeasure right back before he pauses half-way through his ministrations. hm, ]

...Miss Callisto, do you prefer tea or coffee? I may, perhaps, judge you slightly based on your answer with fair warning.

[Callisto responds by shooting him a look that says she's seriously considering vomiting on his floor purely to spite him. This is what you're dealing with, Abel. Are you regretting anything yet?]

I had coffee for the first time yesterday and have never had... tea.

[She wrinkles her nose as she tries out the shape of the unfamiliar word.]

Really, how many popular drinks does one city need? I'm usually a fan of going overboard, but this is just ridiculous.

[ do NOT spite-puke?? do not,

....wow?? never had tea!! amazing, Abel is gawking at her as if she just grew a third head, before--

well, that's that! tea it is; he's grabbing the kettle off the stove and going about filling it up without further delay, ]

Listen, there are few delights in this world as genuinely wonderful as a good cup of tea sugared just right! Dare I say you haven't even lived til you've had the pleasure~! Now, don't get me wrong-- coffee is nice and all, and who doesn't like the fancy machines with the foam and making cute cat faces on the surface of a warm drink come winter? But-- tea, Miss Callisto. Tea. Is simply divine.

Then I guess I haven't lived.

[She drawls - wryly, but with a note of truth buried somewhere in there.]

Pleasures don't touch me. I'll let you try this one on me, if you want, but it won't work.

Really. Really...? So you've never known such a joy? Not for anything?

[ he casts a glance over his shoulder as he says this; he picked up that quiet note of truth buried in a seemingly innocuous statement. hmm.

but that's all the attention he (outwardly) pays it, going about his work without further pause. ]

I find that hard to believe, personally... but you know, even if it were true-- there's no time like the present to change that, don't you think so? What better way than discovering a deep and profound love for tea, hm~?

I didn't say that.

[She snaps, but it's flash-in-the-pan anger: here now, but soon it'll fade just as quickly as it had come.]

Of course I knew joy, when I was small, before my family was butchered and I learned what the world was like.

[Is this inappropriate first meeting talk? Whatever, Callisto doesn't care. She grits her teeth as she stares daggers at Abel's back, silently daring him to respond in some way that'll displease her. There is, unfortunately, quite a lot that will do that.]

[ that... that certainly arrests him with voracity.

Abel's attention has shifted wholly from the mugs in his hands he was taking from the cabinet to the woman perched atop the stools by the kitchen island, and for the first time since her unceremonious arrival to the apartment -- the exaggerated, jovial cheer leaves blue eyes in favor of a startled sort of... ache.

...ah. her family, was... ]

I'm-- sorry.

[ there is earnestness in those words. she'd had her world shattered young; that is never an easy thing to endure-- and the sentiment of having the joy stolen from her life henceforth, is... an extremely sad one. does she really mean that...? ]

I don't want your pity.

[But already, there's less heat in her voice. She locks eyes with him when he turns to face her, not wanting him to miss the grief there. Her anger is easy to show off, but this, as far as she's concerned, is equally important.]

If you want to pity someone, pity them. My mother, my father, and my sister. Do you understand?

No, it-- it isn't pity, Miss Callisto.

[ and the last thing he wants is to appear patronizing; he can tell she is not the type to take that kindly. ]

...I'm sorry for your loss. To lose family is always difficult, but-- to lose them so young and like that... I can't imagine how hard it must've been.

[ she's clearly not had an easy life. hardened herself off, maybe? but the grief and loss still aches in her eyes, despite it. she hasn't cut herself off from that terribly human heart. ]

And do you understand? Personally? Do you know what it's like?

[True empathy is something that she struggles with, stunted as she is; no matter how much she aches to receive it from others, she's automatically suspicious whenever she gets it. She'd seen her pain mirrored in Abel's eyes, and her first thought is that maybe he, too, lost his family.]

[ there's a momentary hesitation, something vaguely tentative in the blue eyes behind old-fashioned lenses, but... as Abel turns to settle the mugs on the counter and resume his task, he speaks softly in answer. ]

I wouldn't presume to understand what you've been through, or compare our circumstances, but... to lose family, people precious to you--

[ ... ]

I do understand.

[ for a little girl, her entire world had been shattered in the blink of an eye by violence... it had to have been a uniquely horrific circumstance. Abel was not quite so small, would not consider himself a hapless victim in his story, can't begin to fathom what that did to her, but... the grief and loss are things he well grasps all the same for whatever it's worth. ]

Tell me what happened.

[Callisto can't offer condolences, or even proper empathy herself. She doesn't ask this to commiserate, or comfort, or anything so healthy and unselfish as that. But pain is the only way that she knows how to connect with people: whether that's done by causing it, hearing about it, or making others hear about hers. She does want to measure his pain against hers, and she wants to see the ache in his eyes deepen.

She doesn't actively, consciously care about connecting with Abel. But all the same, in her own twisted way, this is reaching out.]

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject