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

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[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

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.]

[ ...well. this home invasion has certainly taken a turn, hasn't it?

Abel might not be privy to the sort of person that Callisto is to grasp all the nuance behind this question, but he understands -- just as much as grief, perhaps -- what it is to be angry, to be hurt, and to be a creature that speaks in pain. maybe that's why he doesn't take offense to the rather blunt and forward request for something so personal.

but he waits until he's ready to slide a mug of steaming hot tea across the island to her, first. there's a smile at his lips; this sort is different than the ones that came before it. for one particularly astute, perhaps there is the hint of something old and tired in otherwise kind blue eyes. ]

It's a bit of a long and sordid tale, so I'll spare you the boring details... but it ended with me making a very grave mistake that cost me everything.

[ a gentle nudge of the sugar and creamer, should she feel inclined toward adding either.

...Including the person who was patient enough to serve me cups of tea back when I was the one telling her that there was no joy to be had in life.

Why would the details be boring to me?

[She asks, grabbing onto her mug and wrapping the fingers of both hands around it, holding it tightly enough that her nails screeeek against the ceramic. She makes no move to drink just yet.]

I asked what happened to you, not what happened after. If you're too much of a coward to tell me, just say so.

[The fact that he might not want to share something so personal and emotional with a stranger either doesn't occur to her, or is something she doesn't care about.

(Both. It's both.) ]

[ Abel's leaving his cup on the counter and beginning the ever-necessary process of dumping thirteen sugars in; one does not CONSUME their tea until it is a tea-paste, thank you!

but he's nudging contemplatively at his glasses at that, huffing an exhale softly through his nostrils. Callisto is........

Callisto, that's for sure, ]

You're certain to romance the details from me with that attitude, Miss Callisto~! What man wouldn't be compelled to spill his guts for you when you've asked so nicely?!

[ petulant?

....never!! ]

Why are you asking, anyway, hm? Concern? Morbid curiosity? Ammunition for some elaborate and complicated blackmail scheme...? That's it, isn't it? I knew some scantily clad woman dropping in out of the blue was too good to be true... Who put you up to this?!

No!

[She lets go of the mug with one hand, but only so she can ball it into a fist and slam it down on the table, making everything on it rattle.]

Stop joking! If you're going to claim that you were once like me, then I should get to know how! You can't just dangle that in front of my face and then not tell me.

[ --oh, good Lord. Abel nigh jumps right out of his skin as the contents of the counter rattle, near causing him to spill his delicious tea long before he's so much as gotten to take a single sip. do NOT, ]

...L-like you? A... are you listening to me at all?! I-- I wouldn't dare to compare either of our positions, Miss Callisto, so--

[ ...but he can see something in those eyes, something behind the anger and roiling rage. it isn't wrath for wrath's sake.

it's pain, and hurt, and grief. like there's a little girl still standing before the ruins of her life, crying out for someone to come and take it all away.

...Abel takes a deep breath, sets the spoon in his tea-cup, and levels a more even look across at her. ]

If you'd like me to be up front with you, then... I'd like for you to answer something for me first. Just one question. Alright?

No, not our positions.

[Callisto leans forward, intense and intent. He hadn't compared their positions, but he had, in her mind, compared them, with his reactions and expressions as much as with his words. With, too, the way he puts on a cheerful and jokey demeanor - though unlike the one that she sometimes makes a show of, which is so exaggerated that no one could really mistake it for genuine, his actually seems real.

Maybe it is. Or maybe he's just more invested in making it look that way.]

Ask away, Father Abel Nightroad. Unlike you, I'm not afraid.

[ not their positions? Abel looks a little quizzical, at that-- perhaps he isn't fully grasping where she's coming from just yet, but he'd like to. Callisto has in such a short time become someone he has decided... he'd like to know.

and no, thank you, not simply because of her choice in attire. alright?? ...it doesn't hurt, though.

...he rests his elbows on the countertop, leaning in a bit as he regards her. and those terribly blue eyes are giving Callisto his full attention -- sharper, but no less kind than they were a moment ago. ]

Have you been alone all this time? ...I don't mean to ask if you've been keeping a solitary sort of life, but... have you let yourself have friends? Have someone who cares about you?

No.

[No hesitation, no equivocation, and certainly not an ounce of regret. Just a flat no.]

No, that part of me died when I was eleven years old, and it's never coming back. It blew away with the smoke.

[ he had a feeling that might be her answer.

Abel's expression sinks, just a bit-- before he's giving a slight nod of his head. right. ]

I see.

[ eleven... so young. so very young to lose everything. ]

So, then... if I were to ask you if any part of you has ever given thought to trying-- the answer would probably be 'no.' Right?

Given thought to trying, or wanted to try?

[There's a notable difference between those two things, in her mind.]

[ well... the fact she had not answered in an indignant, haughty decline? gives him a considerable amount of hope (naïve or otherwise), and Abel nudges gently at his glasses. hm. ]

Either, actually...!

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I LOVE THEM.......

this thread gives me life...... 🥺