Fine, just, mhm, according to one really tall French woman, I can't keep up with the French, so please don't let me fucking die, alright? Or do dumb shit, that'd be great either. You see my eyes glow, you flick me on the forehead. Counting on you.
I'm gonna let you go, I gotta do the food runs for the mansion and NYX, so I'll see ya at the weekend, yeah? Choose a place./
/Ah, to great real friendships. Please keep that determination in place this weekend as well.
Perfect. I'll see you!/
(As promised, once the day and time rolls in, Sophie arrives at the MAX in clacking high heeled boots and immaculate outfit — dolling up always helps her get her head in place. Stability and routine in a turbulent sea.
She'll get herself a spot at the lounge bar, sending Sciel a mental note she's there already.)
[It has been… an interesting week. Interesting enough that most of that is now a sort of conversational debt, something to get into another evening. For now, she’s just glad to have a night out.
And so Sciel is there, almost on time. She’s dressed up herself –– slacks and an open jacket, the shirt underneath made of such scanty lace that the tattoo on her chest is visible all the way down to her ribs. She greets Sophie with a hand on her back and a sidle in for a kiss on the cheek before she takes her own barstool.]
(Interesting is a way to put it, way too positive in contrast to what Sophie thinks of this week — all extremely negative adjectives, to say the least. What is interesting is that Sciel told her point-blank that this is so they talk, but Sophie happens not to know to whose benefit.
Is this Sciel trying to check on her, or is does she need an ear? The former is... Less than ideal, although as promised, she'll put effort if she really wants to know. She assumes the point is the woman who looks absolutely stunning to the point Sophie gives her a nod of approval before kissing her back, a hug accompanying it before she smiles.)
Better to see you. Cripes, you look hot! Very nice choice, babe.
[Sciel smiles down Sophie’s back as she’s pulled into that hug, and it’s still there when she pulls backs.]
Thank you. You look so lovely, too.
[Her team is used to seeing her in various avant-garde nonsense, but she’d still left the apartment with the jacket firmly closed –– no need to give off the wrong impression about her evening plans, and all. She slides onto her barstool.]
How has your week been? Head feeling more sorted out?
(Aside from the fog, where she looked like she went through 2 divorces, 5 funerals, got fired 2 times and lost the house in the span of 24 hours, but nevermind that.)
Head as in emotions or head as in telepathy? Emotions, whatever, telepathy, way less glitchy. How about you?
Either, both? [There’s a little concern in her expression, though it doesn’t replace the smile.] I suppose ‘whatever’ is an improvement over ‘bad’, but it sounds like you need more time to rest.
[As for her…]
I’m unhappy and happy at the same time. But I’ll be fine, it’s just going to take time.
It’s not about fixing it. It’s about coming to terms with whatever’s hurting you.
[This conversation very well could stay around Sophie, but all story-swapping is a give and take.]
Some revelations, sure. The last two weeks were awful, but I’m always glad when I can take care of my friends, and the fog showed me some things that gave me… perspective. Even if I didn’t always want to see it.
(It means she has to look at it, and she doesn't want to look at it again.)
You were the only one I couldn't find, you know. I was... Well, kind of worried, but kind of not. If anyone was gonna do well in that bullshit, it'd be you. Do you even know what your brain feels like?
To be fair? Probably. We are kind of boxed in by our own brains, anyway. Kind of like when we look in the mirror, we don't see everything as is? Anyway.
(She might not be interested in the chitty chatter and view of a person who crawls from brain to brain. Perhaps another time.
Instead of dwelving, she's going to order them a bottle of wine, a sweet one at that.)
Gommage. Expedition. Death. Some cute guy I met once? Look, being dead and then not, and seeing how the world went on without you? Not fun. Been there several times... It's just something shitty all around. What did you do about it?
I don’t know how much to share without violating Gustave’s privacy. [Or Verso’s, for that matter.] But he and I have been friends for a long time. We’ve been through a lot together… very, very difficult things, but never anything like this.
I haven’t handled it with as much tenderness as I should have. We didn’t talk enough.
Please don't. I'm... Working on not doing that myself. Not to him, but, you know, in general.
(Which is the bare minimum, she's aware. It is just very contrary to what she is used to, and it takes effort, and it takes thought. At least Sciel hasn't ever made her feel all wrong for learning now, so that's nice, she supposes.)
I don't know how you dealt with him, but you know. The feeling is probably, —don't quote me on it, I didn't look, he didn't talk to me—, but I assume of not knowing what kind of place there is to occupy now. Belonging is everything, from safety to identity.
No, no, of course I won’t, I just… he’s sensitive, you know, and I feel like I’ve been both extra cautious and also careless.
[She pauses for a second, just to figure out how to answer that.]
I think you’re right. I know you’re right. So much has happened in such a short amount of time, and we’ve had to move so fast. We’re still moving so fast! Figuring out where we stand with each other has been difficult in a way I haven’t felt in years, but… worse.
(Hindsight and experience are just such funny things. She could have done things differently, certainly, and she could have spoken. What for? The easiest reintegration was to step back onto her shoes. When she first got to Etraya, she first felt it. Memories that aren't hers. People who know her, but don't know, well, her, and it boggled and depressed her for weeks.
Normal is not horrible, but of course, she can only think in her very strange, specific point of familiarity.)
Music to my ears, but... In... Years? What do you mean? Wasn't the Expedition super quick?
[Some context is needed, here. She shakes her head and backs up:]
So. Years ago, before the Expedition, Gustave was dating my best friend. They really were meant to be, but sometimes it’s hard to accept an imperfect life when you have so little of it left. Maybe you can imagine why. But when they split, it was a little uncomfortable between us, for a bit. Not to the degree it is now, but it’s all connected. For me, at least.
[Sciel smiles, a little sadly, even if she can’t feel anything but joy at the thought of Sophie, unapologetically Sophie. She puts a hand on this Sophie’s arm, grip bracing.]
Yes, that’s Sophie. For a while I had to choose between them, and she needed me more, and he knew that.
[So it was uncomfortable. Both of them could be so hardheaded, and for a while she’d refused to entertain that such a good thing could be ended in a way with both parties still walking around in the world, having decided not to be together. But that’s a whole thing, and only part of it is hers to tell.
Sciel finds herself pausing again, anyway, lips pursed. There’s so much history there. For a split second she feels the immense draw of the ability to just pluck someone’s stories out of their head, to never have to explain the whys or hows or all the ways it links up. A ribbon stretches back through time, connecting her and Gustave and Sophie and Pierre at Aquafarm 3, and it knots off and leaves people behind periodically: in a terrible open sea, in a breeze of ashes and petals, on a cold dark shore. It would be a disservice to dump all that pain and misery and joy into anyone’s head, as if it is merely data backing up some conclusion. She doesn’t know where to start on this connection, how to make sense of it, but at least she’s got a start, just like a new one with Gustave.
She laughs breathlessly, and adds:]
Our lives are so short, but it’s still so much to explain. How far back do I go for this to make sense?
(Sciel had been the first to figure out how to talk to Sophie. Words that she doesn't need, emotions she can feel as her own, and all so very natural to her as breathing — she isn't opposed, it is her most natural state. To skip through her awkward little moments of discovery and confusion by taking a trip through the synapses of Sciel's mind is much more comfortable, but Sciel actually said something that made her reconsider listening in.
She said 'talk'. This is what she wanted to do, and Sophie... Well, Sciel very well knows what she can do, or at least, the superficial version of it. She'll offer, but either way, Sciel has Sophie's eyes on her, and her full attention.)
I... I mean, do you want — you know how to guide me, so if you want, I can just look.
(She taps her temple as she takes a sip, her eyes glowing white and a shrug.)
But I guess... For you, it's not the same as talking, right? I'm here for what you need, so. If you want to talk, you can talk as much as you want. If you want to skip the backstory and just give me the trailer cliffnotes, I'll do my best to follow either way.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Fine, just, mhm, according to one really tall French woman, I can't keep up with the French, so please don't let me fucking die, alright? Or do dumb shit, that'd be great either. You see my eyes glow, you flick me on the forehead. Counting on you.
I'm gonna let you go, I gotta do the food runs for the mansion and NYX, so I'll see ya at the weekend, yeah? Choose a place./
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And yes. The MAX is usually quiet? But then again, most places here are./
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Perfect. I'll see you!/
(As promised, once the day and time rolls in, Sophie arrives at the MAX in clacking high heeled boots and immaculate outfit — dolling up always helps her get her head in place. Stability and routine in a turbulent sea.
She'll get herself a spot at the lounge bar, sending Sciel a mental note she's there already.)
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And so Sciel is there, almost on time. She’s dressed up herself –– slacks and an open jacket, the shirt underneath made of such scanty lace that the tattoo on her chest is visible all the way down to her ribs. She greets Sophie with a hand on her back and a sidle in for a kiss on the cheek before she takes her own barstool.]
So good to see you.
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Is this Sciel trying to check on her, or is does she need an ear? The former is... Less than ideal, although as promised, she'll put effort if she really wants to know. She assumes the point is the woman who looks absolutely stunning to the point Sophie gives her a nod of approval before kissing her back, a hug accompanying it before she smiles.)
Better to see you. Cripes, you look hot! Very nice choice, babe.
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Thank you. You look so lovely, too.
[Her team is used to seeing her in various avant-garde nonsense, but she’d still left the apartment with the jacket firmly closed –– no need to give off the wrong impression about her evening plans, and all. She slides onto her barstool.]
How has your week been? Head feeling more sorted out?
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(Aside from the fog, where she looked like she went through 2 divorces, 5 funerals, got fired 2 times and lost the house in the span of 24 hours, but nevermind that.)
Head as in emotions or head as in telepathy? Emotions, whatever, telepathy, way less glitchy. How about you?
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[As for her…]
I’m unhappy and happy at the same time. But I’ll be fine, it’s just going to take time.
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(Old things that ressurfaced, the date, the deaths, years ago that just came knocking on her door again. Unfair, unfun.)
Happy? Seriously? What's there to be happy about? Did you have a big revelation or something?
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[This conversation very well could stay around Sophie, but all story-swapping is a give and take.]
Some revelations, sure. The last two weeks were awful, but I’m always glad when I can take care of my friends, and the fog showed me some things that gave me… perspective. Even if I didn’t always want to see it.
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(It means she has to look at it, and she doesn't want to look at it again.)
You were the only one I couldn't find, you know. I was... Well, kind of worried, but kind of not. If anyone was gonna do well in that bullshit, it'd be you. Do you even know what your brain feels like?
(Like a calm ocean, steady tides.)
Perspective, huh? About?
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[She leans her elbow on the bar, looking at Sophie long and calm.]
I think I’ve been a bad friend lately.
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(She might not be interested in the chitty chatter and view of a person who crawls from brain to brain. Perhaps another time.
Instead of dwelving, she's going to order them a bottle of wine, a sweet one at that.)
To? The 33's?
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Is this about his whole death thing? Maelle told me, but she didn't super tell me with all the details.
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Partially. How much did she tell you?
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[Okay, so the gist. That’s enough to go on.]
I don’t know how much to share without violating Gustave’s privacy. [Or Verso’s, for that matter.] But he and I have been friends for a long time. We’ve been through a lot together… very, very difficult things, but never anything like this.
I haven’t handled it with as much tenderness as I should have. We didn’t talk enough.
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(Which is the bare minimum, she's aware. It is just very contrary to what she is used to, and it takes effort, and it takes thought. At least Sciel hasn't ever made her feel all wrong for learning now, so that's nice, she supposes.)
I don't know how you dealt with him, but you know. The feeling is probably, —don't quote me on it, I didn't look, he didn't talk to me—, but I assume of not knowing what kind of place there is to occupy now. Belonging is everything, from safety to identity.
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[She pauses for a second, just to figure out how to answer that.]
I think you’re right. I know you’re right. So much has happened in such a short amount of time, and we’ve had to move so fast. We’re still moving so fast! Figuring out where we stand with each other has been difficult in a way I haven’t felt in years, but… worse.
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(Hindsight and experience are just such funny things. She could have done things differently, certainly, and she could have spoken. What for? The easiest reintegration was to step back onto her shoes. When she first got to Etraya, she first felt it. Memories that aren't hers. People who know her, but don't know, well, her, and it boggled and depressed her for weeks.
Normal is not horrible, but of course, she can only think in her very strange, specific point of familiarity.)
Music to my ears, but... In... Years? What do you mean? Wasn't the Expedition super quick?
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[Some context is needed, here. She shakes her head and backs up:]
So. Years ago, before the Expedition, Gustave was dating my best friend. They really were meant to be, but sometimes it’s hard to accept an imperfect life when you have so little of it left. Maybe you can imagine why. But when they split, it was a little uncomfortable between us, for a bit. Not to the degree it is now, but it’s all connected. For me, at least.
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Wait! That's Sophie?! I know there's a Sophie.
(She's even holding Sciel's arm because woah, groundbreaking news. A mystery solved.)
Wait, no, rewind. Connected how? From my understanding, these two things are separate, no?
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Yes, that’s Sophie. For a while I had to choose between them, and she needed me more, and he knew that.
[So it was uncomfortable. Both of them could be so hardheaded, and for a while she’d refused to entertain that such a good thing could be ended in a way with both parties still walking around in the world, having decided not to be together. But that’s a whole thing, and only part of it is hers to tell.
Sciel finds herself pausing again, anyway, lips pursed. There’s so much history there. For a split second she feels the immense draw of the ability to just pluck someone’s stories out of their head, to never have to explain the whys or hows or all the ways it links up. A ribbon stretches back through time, connecting her and Gustave and Sophie and Pierre at Aquafarm 3, and it knots off and leaves people behind periodically: in a terrible open sea, in a breeze of ashes and petals, on a cold dark shore. It would be a disservice to dump all that pain and misery and joy into anyone’s head, as if it is merely data backing up some conclusion. She doesn’t know where to start on this connection, how to make sense of it, but at least she’s got a start, just like a new one with Gustave.
She laughs breathlessly, and adds:]
Our lives are so short, but it’s still so much to explain. How far back do I go for this to make sense?
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She said 'talk'. This is what she wanted to do, and Sophie... Well, Sciel very well knows what she can do, or at least, the superficial version of it. She'll offer, but either way, Sciel has Sophie's eyes on her, and her full attention.)
I... I mean, do you want — you know how to guide me, so if you want, I can just look.
(She taps her temple as she takes a sip, her eyes glowing white and a shrug.)
But I guess... For you, it's not the same as talking, right? I'm here for what you need, so. If you want to talk, you can talk as much as you want. If you want to skip the backstory and just give me the trailer cliffnotes, I'll do my best to follow either way.
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