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, that's....... pleasant. he flinches as spittle hits his cheek, before he lifts his sleeve to wipe it away with a slightly withering look. CALLISTO?? gross,

even so, he can read these acts for what they are. it's the same as all the angry outbursts and insistence that others must suffer as she's suffered; it's pain. a call for help. bravado, right? it doesn't anger him; it simply deepens the pit in his stomach, one that churns in a worry and empathetic ache for her. ]

Because you don't deserve to be alone. Maybe you've convinced yourself that's your lot in life, but... I'm of a different mind, and I'm afraid that isn't going to be changing anytime soon.

[ ... ]

So you can keep pushing at me if you need to. Get it all out of your system, hm? When you get tired of it, I'll still be right here when you're ready to come around.

I could kill you and everyone you care about.

[But she says it with a sigh, as she slumps on her stool. It's not quite an empty threat - she believes she could, indeed, do exactly that - but it's also not a vehement one. She doesn't have room in herself for that level of concentrated vendetta against anyone but Xena.]

Something is wrong with you. And whatever you want from me, I don't have anything to give.

You could.

[ he doesn't refute it, either-- she could indeed threaten him, threaten the people he cares about. Abel doesn't keep his fondness for others a secret, either; it would be simple work to hunt a few down, even here. but...

...he doesn't believe she will follow through. (not without sufficient motivation, anyway.) ]

And there's a great many things wrong with me, you're absolutely right! But wanting to be your friend isn't one of them.

It is, because I don't have that to give, either. Look at me.

[She locks eyes with him again, to make that demand easier.]

Do you really think I'm lying?

I think you believe something very sad, and lonely, and miserable to put it frankly. But... you and I don't have to see eye to eye, and maybe our definitions of 'friendship' aren't the same, either. Who's to say that you aren't already giving me precisely what I want out of a friendship with you, anyway?

[ though his tone does carry a little more levity than it had a few minutes prior, there's something in his eyes that suggests that he isn't bluffing or making jest of this at all. ]

[She scoffs, eyes flicking towards the spilled tea and the mug lying on the floor.]

Oh, of course; my mistake. I should have realized you were interested in having your home damaged. Your home, and your hand. Looks like you've found the perfect person; aren't you lucky.

Well! As it turns out... spilled tea can be cleaned, and I can always buy a new mug. And-- ah, well, my hand hurts and I'll definitely whine about it at great length later, but... it'll be fine too when push comes to shove.

[ he's moving to grab at some paper towels on the subject of... messes. ]

But friendships are like people, you know? Unique... sometimes difficult. And always well worth the work. --Speaking of, come help me clean this up, would you?

[She looks at his mug of tea, still sitting on the counter, and considers grabbing that next. She could throw it at him, and then sweep her way through the kitchen, destroying everything that's not bolted down.

She doesn't do it, in the end: from lack of energy, and lack of drive. She does grab the mug, but only to take a sip.]

Pushovers are pathetic, Abel. I've met too many of you here.

[ did she really just--

Abel starts to protest, but all that escape him is a little whiny start of a sound before he thinks better of it and huffs, instead. WOW?? stealing his tea?? (enjoy, Callisto, it's veritable sugar sludge after how much he poured in there,) ]

Pushovers?! ...Are you calling me pathetic? Is that any way to speak to your dearest friend, Miss Callisto...? I might cry at this rate...!

Yes, and what are you going to do about it?

[She says, tea still in hand - watching him with the paper towels, but making no move to help.]

Show me some of who you were before, when you were like me?

[ hmph... he's mouthing 'pathetic' one more time before ripping off some of the roll and jutting it out toward her expectantly. ]

You're like a dog with a bone, aren't you? A man tries to sympathize with the woman who breaks into his apartment after being kidnapped across time and space and this is what he gets...?! Honestly, there really isn't any sort of justice in any world.

[ he's going to start by retrieving the cup and cleaning up the floor, now. hmph, HMPH. ]

But you know what? If it helps, there're more croissants where the first one came from if you clean up after yourself.

Eugh, don't try to bribe me.

[Still watching. Still not helping. The paper towel goes untouched, and ignored, though she's watching him closely.]

I don't get why you won't talk about it; it's the only interesting thing about you.

[Not the only thing, says a niggling piece of her, but she ignores that part of herself.]

You know, I'm beginning to think that your company is going to have some kind of dampening effect on my poor, fragile, floundering ego but I can't seem to grasp why with all these glowing compliments you're paying me...

[ he pauses in floor-wiping to tap at his chin thoughtfully. hm, yeah, wonder why that is??

...he is noticing he is unassisted in his cleaning endeavors. noticing that. mmhm, a lot of Noticing happening here, ]

Is what's long gone really of that much interest to you...? I'm afraid the tale probably isn't half as interesting as whatever you're concocting in your head. Plus--! What if you get bored of me...? I have to maintain an air of mystery to keep you around~!

[ ...

......

quietly crumpling up a paper towel. he is forming...... a projectile. for reasons. ]

I'm already bored of you.

[She says flatly, drumming her fingers on the tabletop. Taking another sip of his tea.]

If the only thing of interest about you is long gone, then so be it; I'll-- don't throw that at me.

[Her eyes drop to the hand that's crumpling the ball, then go back up to his face. She is, maybe, just the tiniest bit curious about whether or not he would dare.]

If you were bored of me, would you really still be here? The tea isn't that good.

[ just as flatly, back. they are the utter pinnacle of maturity.

...and just to prove that fact, he is balling this paper towel up a little tighter

while maintaining eye contact........ ]

Who said I was going to throw this at you...? Goodness, are you paranoid, Miss Callisto? Would I, a man of God, a priest in service to the Good Lord who art in Heaven, a diligent and obedient servant of the Holy See do such a petty and immature thing~?

[ yes

yes ]

The tea is awful; it tastes like leaves.

[Which she assumes is an insult, rather than... truth. Oops.]

And if you throw that at me, I'll throw it at you.

Ah~! Well, that might be because tea is flavored with tea leaves! You're quite clever...

[ he is tossing the little crumpled paper towel in one hand, as if mulling over his prospective options. does he want to die...? ~~best not to answer that question~~ no, no, of course not. but is it really living if one isn't lobbing paper towel projectiles at scantily clad women in your kitchen? no. no it isn't.

...

he's sighing none-the-less, hanging his shoulders as if in defeat, ]

Are you allergic to a little fun?! Come on, don't be a sourpuss...!

[ he's going to throw it

he is absolutely going to throw it, don't let your guard down Callisto!!!! ]

Edited 2021-12-09 01:28 (UTC)

Then you'll enjoy it in your face.

[She holds the mug up, readying it.]

Try me.

[ oho. oho. she meets his challenge head on, does she? a slow grin is breaking out over his face, and he adjusts his glasses in such a way that, perhaps, the light catches them just so... ]

You know... I'm a man who abhors violence, Miss Callisto, so I'm certain even if I were to throw this at you, you would be a very mature woman and settle your differences with me in a civilized fashion. Right? Right, right, of course you would.

Well, if you're just going to talk instead of play--

[Then she'll just throw the tea at him straight out, holding onto the mug but splashing the liquid right in his face.

Yes, this is her idea of a game. No, she will not be taking constructive criticism at this time.]

CallisTO--

[ this may have been screeched as he was busy lifting his arms to cradle his face in anticipation of just that, the second he saw her moving--

and now he's sopping wet, there's more tea than when he started cleaning, and his paper towel projectile

is too soggy to throw.

...

....

.........

he is still. so very, very still, frozen horror on his face as his hair drips tea sludge. (revenge is imminent.) ]

[With apparent calmness, Callisto sips the last dregs of tea from the mug, then sets it back down on the counter, dropping her chin into her hands as she studies able.]

That'll teach you to bide your time.

[ he's rising... coolly, slowly approaching the kitchen counter and carrying his sad, soggy paper towel that no longer serves as a suitable, pleasant, crinkly ball of projectile. so sad. so, so sad. ]

...Miss Callisto. There are many things a man can abide by, but waste of a perfectly good cup of tea? You should be ashamed of yourself. And on that note, I really must insist you pay--

[ the paper towel is unraveled.

and once he's made it close enough to ensure it's landing, he is -- with great and unfaltering maturity -- tossing it to land like wet spaghetti squarely on her face, ]

PENANCE!!

[ --he may be abruptly crouching behind the island, now. you know. for cover. ]

[It hits. And she pounces.

The thing about Callisto is that she doesn't actually know how to find proper enjoyment in things, or how to have genuinely innocent, carefree fun. This means that while she's not truly angry at Abel for his paper towel attack, she advances like she is: her metaphorical claws out as she moves to try and knock him to the ground, strings of soggy paper still clinging to her cheek.]

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apologies for the late tag...... i'm glad i checked this, dw ate the notif!!! rude...

boooo, dreamwidth didn't want paper towel fights

so incredibly uncool, dw, let us LIVE

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