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
[ 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?
no subject
...Yes, but-- I've only got the one life too, so you see the dilemma? A... are you willing to call a truce?
[ ... ]
And help me clean up? Maybe? Possibly?
no subject
A temporary truce.
[She agrees, stepping back to let him through.]
But I think the floors look nice like this. They give the place character.
no subject
[ repeated, dully...... but he IS inching further in as 'truce' leaves her lips. Callisto isn't the sort to go back on her word, is she?? ]
Oh, certainly! If character consists of all manner of grossness like ants or mold and the like. Not my favorite characters, personally. No, no... it'd be much nicer if we simply took care of it now, don't you agree?
no subject
You learn not to worry about ants when you're a warlord. Do you know, I once ate a loaf of bread that had been crawling with them.
1/2
the more she talks, the more he Worries like an old fretting grandmother, internally--
his expression withers, EW?? ]
--Th-that is disgustingly unsanitary. But I suppose at least they're... full of protein? So I hear...
[ ... ]
no subject
[ okay, he is closing the door behind him and slooowly making his approach back toward the counter again. ]
You were a warlord back at home...? Really?
no subject
[She says, dispassionately. Really, it had been a means to an end rather than a true calling.]
I spent some time pretending to be Xena - trying to reignite the reputation she wanted to leave behind. I actually did a pretty good job, if I don't say so myself. Lots more villages were burned by the "Warrior Princess".
no subject
some levity and jest is stolen from his face at that as he resigns himself to once more cleaning up spilled tea and broken piece of mug. ]
Can I ask why...?
no subject
Why should the killer of my family get to reinvent herself as a hero?
I want everyone to remember her for what she is, for as long as she lives.
no subject
Even if that means creating other little girls who lost what you lost...? Is making yourself the 'Xena' in someone else's story really worth that?
[ it isn't said with accusation or judgment, but sincere inquiry clouded only by the soft undertone of concern. ]
no subject
She made me the Xena in someone else's story. Everything I am, I am because of her.
no subject
he gives her a side-long glance before heaving something of a silent exhale and letting his attentions seemingly turn to the mess on the floor. ]
You and I both know that isn't quite true, is it?
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