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
She made me the Xena in someone else's story. Everything I am, I am because of her.
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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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[ and if they did, he would certainly have none of it. but... ]
...But you're perpetuating a miserable cycle that won't get back what you've lost. And if you let her turn you into a monster that makes more victims like you, then-- some might say you're no better than she is.
[ he lifts to his feet, dirtied towels in his hands. ]
I believe better of you than that.
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[Callisto lets out a long, dramatic sigh, flipping her hair over her shoulder.]
That's your first mistake.
[She drops her eyes to the spilled tea.]
Second. Or third? I'm losing count, Abel.
no subject
[ that she might sincerely see herself that way. does she? underneath bravado and façade and learned coping mechanisms, he wonders just what she sees when she looks in the mirror, these days. ]
...Well, count it among a long list of many I'm sure to make if you'd like. I told you-- I'll have faith in you, see what you can't. Maybe the day will come when that changes. It would be nice, and... I'd quite like to see it.
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[She says, making a concerted effort to inject poison into her words.]
It can happen to anyone. I wasn't born like this. I was an innocent, sweet, loving child - and look at me now.
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[ wasn't born like this... that's right, she wasn't. even so... ]
You've lost more than your fair share, and maybe you've done things you feel there's no coming back from because of it. Maybe you don't blame yourself at all [ he doesn't believe this bit, personally ] and really will lay all the blame for the path you've walked at this Xena's feet. It's been a lonely one up until now, right...? Maybe being alone feels safer than accepting there's others out there who still have room for you around their tables, even if it isn't the same sort as the one you'd lost before.
But it isn't too late for that. For you. So... It isn't that I'm in danger of losing my faith, Miss Callisto-- it's that I found my own so that I can have some in you, too.
no subject
You missed a spot.
[She snaps instead, her tone venomous as she points to it.]
Don't you know how to clean your own floor?
no subject
You know, if you're going to be so critical of my cleaning efforts... you could always lend a hand yourself? I'd like to see you do better, thank you...!
[ whether it's an escape from the heaviness of the topic at hand or Abel legitimately wants to see if he can bait her into like, cleaning,
who knows, (it's probably both), ]
no subject
[She pauses, stretching a foot down to tap her boot on the linoleum.]
-- whatever this is. Do you know how hard it is to clean a dirt floor?
no subject
[ poor Callisto...... life in tyool 2021 must be quite an adjustment, huh? ]
By the way-- what was the year where you're from? I get the feeling that-- um. Gloucester might be something outside the norm for you by a great deal, is that right?
no subject
[Sorry Abel, meticulous timekeeping is also a bit ahead of her time.]
no subject
A-ah. I mean... what is the year? Currently? Where you're from. Um... on the calendar? I imagine you might not use the Holy Calendar, but...
[ haha you know, just interdimensional time shenanigans, ]
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Even a village as small as Cirra had people who kept track of the days between festivals...
[Could that be what he's talking about?]
But I'm not one of them, and I haven't lived in a village in years. It was summer, when I died, but Tartarus didn't have seasons.
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yeah... w... weird.......
Callisto............
'Tartarus.' she had mentioned ancient, old gods before as well-- and the picture is rapidly forming in his head that both answers the question of 'when' she's from and might suggest that something she'd extolled earlier hadn't been some kind of jest or slip of the tongue.
... ]
You... died? You mean--
[ ...is that even possible? to be here after-- death? she can't be literal, can she? ]
no subject
[She says, rolling her eyes. Honstly, Abel, keep up; talking to dead people is totally normal!]
I wasn't lying. And don't you dare feel sorry for me; I'll get back to my plans in one way or another.
no subject
[ he trails off, at a loss; perhaps she might mistake it for pity, but Abel simply can't help the way his expression begins to sink as he realizes precisely what she's meant this whole time. ]
...Are you saying there's a way to come back, Miss Callisto?
[ it's hard to remember they are, quite literally, from different 'worlds.' in hers, who's to say magic doesn't exist, or that death is impermanent? if she's convened with gods -- and that, too, is not a turn of phrase, then... ]
no subject
[She trails off, studying his face. He's clearly taking this news very seriously, beyond mere surprise.]
Why, are you dead, too? Looking for a way out?
no subject
yeah, his mind is pretty blown, honestly. it doesn't quite take away the sting of knowing she is of the dearly departed, but... ]
No, I'm-- I'm not dead... [ he is very painfully Too Alive ty, ] but-- returning isn't possible where I'm from. Something like that... have you seen it happen before?
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[It's just that she doesn't particularly care about any of that with regards to herself. She'll accept nasty side effects galore if it gives her a shot at continuing her crusade against Xena.]
no subject
...
none of this is doing much to alleviate the look in his eyes where she maintains his full attention. ]
What sort of downsides...?
[ how had she passed? attempting her revenge? ...he wonders, even if part of his heart has already sunk thinking that Callisto's entire life had been one of pain like this. ]
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[ he doesn't ask it as much as he's speaking aloud. right... ]
...What was the alternative, Miss Callisto? Were you... given a choice? A chance to move on from Tartarus, one day?
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[She lets the rest hang in the air unsaid, figuring that he can put two and two together by now. Even if she could, she wouldn't; moving on in any form is anathema to her.]
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