[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]

“No, obviously. That’s why I’m helping you,” he tells her. “Because I’ve seen the horrible stuff that goes on here and you’ll need other people to back you up or fight with you if you’re going against the Entities. You don’t fight all by yourself at home, do you?”

[myfavoritemurder]

"Oh, more often than you'd think," she says breezily. "I only needed an army when i needed to be a warlord. But the rest of the time..."

A careless shrug.

"If I need someone, I'll find them. But I usually don't."

[abrightboy]

“These creatures aren’t human. You’ll need someone.” He pauses, takes a sip of his drink and regards her from under his brow. “When did you need to be a warlord?”

[myfavoritemurder]

"To impersonate the warrior princess and her army," she says, flashing a vicious smile. "And I did a very good job."

[abrightboy]

“I don’t doubt that. You seem… pretty ambitious. But why would you want to do that?” he asks.

[myfavoritemurder]

"Oh, that's a long story."

Which does not at all mean she's not going to tell it. It just means she's going to start at the beginning.

"My family, they ones who were murdered? They died when my village was burned, by a warrior woman named Xena."

[abrightboy]

“So you emulated her?”

Trauma did fucked up things to people. Did she decide to become like the strongest person she knew, even if that was the monster that murdered her family?

[myfavoritemurder]

"At first, I was just going to defeat her," Callisto continues. "Once I was a strong enough warrior. But then, news began to spread that she had--"

Here, she wrinkles her nose again.

"-- reformed. She'd become a hero, saving people instead of killing them. And I couldn't have that."

[abrightboy]

“You worked to retain her reputation for ruthless destruction,” he surmises. “What made her change?”

[myfavoritemurder]

"I don't know," she snaps. "And I don't care. She doesn't deserve to be seen as a hero, and I won't let it happen."

[abrightboy]

“I can understand that,” he tells her in all sincerity. “My father is a famous murderer, but before he was captured for those crimes, he also worked as a doctor. When the subject of the lives he took comes up, he likes to deflect by talking about the lives he saved, but they don’t cancel out what he did. He’s not a hero, whatever he’d like to think; it doesn’t bring comfort to the families of the people he tortured to death that he gave some other family someone back.”

[myfavoritemurder]

"What happened to him?" she wonders. "Is he did? Was he tortured to death?"

[abrightboy]

“He’s in prison,” Malcolm tells her. “Where I come from, criminals go to prison. Forever, if they did something really bad. Like him.”

[myfavoritemurder]

"Yes, I know what a prison is," she drawls. "I've broken out of one. That tends to happen."

[abrightboy]

“Yeah… he escaped too. Shortly before I came here,” he admits.

[myfavoritemurder]

"What a surprise," she deadpans. "What will you do?"

[abrightboy]

“I did it already,” he tells her. “I found him and called the police and then he tried to kill me so I got the knife away and stabbed him with it,” he explains, watching his drink as he swirls it around in his cup.

[myfavoritemurder]

Daaaaaamn, Malcolm.

"And you want people to hear about this. Are you proud of it, or are you trying to share your pain?"

[abrightboy]

He looks up at her from under his brow.

“I think you and I have a little in common and one of the things is feeling responsible for someone else’s atrocities.”

[myfavoritemurder]

"What are you talking about?" she asks, with perplexed suspicion.

[abrightboy]

“You need everyone to know what Xena is. Otherwise, you could just kill her,” Malcolm points out.

[myfavoritemurder]

"Oh, I will," she says, with a flash of her teeth. "I just haven't gotten there yet - I have some other plans for her, first. But if you think that means I feel responsible for her actions--"

She shakes her head, clicking her tongue, and her expression sobers.

"No, no, no - you've got it the wrong way around. She is responsible for me. She made me; I wouldn't be what I am without her."

[abrightboy]

He nods sadly. “I understand that, too,” he tells her. “And I’m sorry.”

[myfavoritemurder]

"Do you understand?" she asks. "Who made you?"

[abrightboy]

“My father. I don’t know what I am except not him. And sometimes I’m afraid that I am like him,” he admits.