Callisto (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
myfavoritemurder) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
apocalypsehowcomm2021-11-13 11:25 am
myfavoritemurder) wrote in apocalypsehowcomm2021-11-13 11:25 am
[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.]
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.]
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
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.
no subject
[ 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?
no subject
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.
no subject
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...!
no subject
[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?
no subject
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.
no subject
[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.]
no subject
[ 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. ]
no subject
[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.]
no subject
[ 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 ]
no subject
[Which she assumes is an insult, rather than... truth. Oops.]
And if you throw that at me, I'll throw it at you.
no subject
[ 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 questionno, 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!!!! ]
no subject
[She holds the mug up, readying it.]
Try me.
apologies for the late tag...... i'm glad i checked this, dw ate the notif!!! rude...
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.
boooo, dreamwidth didn't want paper towel fights
[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.]
so incredibly uncool, dw, let us LIVE
[ 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.) ]
no subject
That'll teach you to bide your time.
1/2
...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--
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
Abel is squawking a good ten octaves higher than his speaking voice-- impressive-- before he's scrambling to get out from under the counter and make a mad dash... for the front door??
he is running. he is literally running for his life, tossing a hasty placation over his shoulder as he goes-- ]
Miss Callisto-- [ --oh god, he almost trips over his own feet as he hops his couch whole, ] --MISS CA-- CALLISTO-- i-it was a joke, it was a joke--!! I'm too YOUNG to die!!
no subject
What are you going to do, leave me the whole place?
[She asks, lounging with her elbows propped up on the counter behind her.]
no subject
oh? is that... laughter he's hearing? do his ears deceive him, or is Callisto actually laughing??? it might take Abel a moment or so to notice that this is, indeed, what is happening considering he's half-way behind the door as if to use it like a barricade...
...
bravely chastising her from his perch of safety, here: ]
W-well... if it comes down to fleeing my humble abode and being skewered like meat on a stick?! Yes, you best believe I'm running for the hills! D... don't laugh at me!! This i... isn't funny, I'll have you know!!
[ ...please continue. it's wonderful. ]
no subject
[She scoffs, still clearly amused.]
And just when you started to show a little bite. You should defend your home. It's the only one you've got here, isn't it?
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