a catastrophe and yet a masterpiece

[faceblocks]

Who: Vi and other people
What: A various series of starters, etc. eisdamme or eisdamme#7495 if you want some other thing/any thing. Or even to tell me tag into your thing. I am open to all the things.
When: July
Where: Crenshaw, Cellar Door, Willful Machine

Content Warnings: discussions of child abuse, child murder, (wip)

Comments

1: standard arrival : only it sticks this time [closed-ish? but also nah]

[faceblocks]

[What came before (before here and before that) - what she would have considered 'real' - feels like a dream. Two dreams, even. It's still part of her, under the surface, but content to remain so since she surfaced and beached herself in this newish, mostly-formed body. She had felt it melt and shift beneath her, twice, now - and then the urge to kick her legs - and in the dream remembrance they'd not been legs yet - bit now, and maybe because she's already done this once - as soon as she thinks to kick: there are her legs.

It comes quicker this time.

//When had she learned to swim? Had she ever? Hard to say, but she'll go with "...in the dream?" This, though? This feels real, despite the absurdity of it and that it had felt real before, too - when she had sat in the robes that had been gently placed on her shoulders by a kind-faced stranger - a half-smile on her face because the water was not toxic.//]

Still not toxic.

[Oh. Okay, then. Her voice works just fine.

//She'd watched the water a while, an unfamiliar peace settling its weight on her not unlike the gifted robes. It hadn't been terrible then and it's not terrible now.// It's somehow ...even less terrible.

A leg and the lower part of her arm had been tentacles, and she'd waited that out - waited until someone had approached her - someone also new, and they'd talked about legs and lights and boots and...

Vi huffs a laugh as she says it, knowing she's got it half-wrong, but it's funny and familiar all at once:]

Princess ...britches? [Nope.] Petticoat? [...] Socks? Fancy ...socks?

[There had been socks, she was sure. She remembered that part clear enough. She remembers more as she repeats it - the collecting of her bag - no, rucksack - the rifling through its contents: the globe, the robe, the canteen, the incense (it's violets and amber again but it makes her think of roses) those gauntlets and the book that dislodges the same map after a same shake, and finds a place to sit a while and read (it seems to have a lot more in it now than it did before) - flipping through it only to dislodge more and more hazy memories.

And tiny imp that ventures to have a little sit on her shoulder like nbd.]

Hey little imp. You remember me at all or are you just ...friendly? Sorry I'm not the one that makes the clothes. The small clothes for the small ...people? But it's not very cold, so you're probably fine, right?

[So she reads what she can - fumbles with the Omni until it gives her numbers again - and tries very hard to remember the rest of the wakeful (waking?) dream. It comes in waves as unpredictable as the water she came from, the snow, hot food, a fistful of roses, a brief glimpse of her ...sister, and tentacles punching into blocks of ice. Parts of it feel so faraway and she's grateful for that. And then:]

It's Satchel. Princess Fancy Satchel.

[No. wait. That's not all of it.]

Princess Alayne Fancy Satchel.

[She could ask around because that's 100% the sensible thing to do when the general vibe is kinda 'fuck you' and 'fuck off' - so instead she's fucking with the Omni, a tap here, a shake there and some time later she's managed to ask a question across the network.]

[dohaeris]

[sansa waits at the sanctuary with a pair of her own hose, a simple dress she'd happened to make in a near-enough shade to violet, with a leather belt tooled with a pretty branching pattern for hiking, loose enough trousers, and the sandals from renfri (she has asked someone to find boots, she will need them back for the tanabata festival!), and a bag of strawberry muffins, all stuffed in her fancy satchel, an elaborate chatelaine clipped to her wide leather belt. her dress is grey cotton with cap sleeves covered in silver scales and little swooping ravens. lady at her side wears a matching grey and silver collar, drinking from a bowl of ice water.

it occurs to sansa that vi had only ever met the real alayne stone, before lady came back. she can't even remember if her hair had been brown or red. she doesn't know if vi will like sansa stark. fancy clothes for fancy people. would vi be cross to learn she was one of the fancy people all along?]

[faceblocks]

[She doesn't resist the urge to pick up the pace - what better way to test her new legs (and to shake off the wobble - or maybe wipe out entirely) than to break into a run - and then it's a leap. Not as risky as she might have done, but she's up and over a stone wall - now on the side of one (not too terribly tall but tall enough) building - there and gone and suspended in the air (it reminds her of the water just briefly) a moment before landing - and ...dropping off the a roof just outside the building she'd been looking for.

Probably not the best idea to have tried that with no shoes - but she finds that he feet ...well, they're ?? fine ??, just dirty. No cuts, no scrapes ...that's unexpected, but again: not terrible. It's with her old bag (where her imp has retreated) and black outer robe, and a different, rust-colored under-robe, hoseless, shoeless and smiling, she enters the Sanctuary, stopping when she sees a familiar (?) silhouette - a tall girl in grey with red hair and a ...wolf.

Had Alayne's hair always been that red? Fancy dress, fancy satchel bag, hell, the wolf even has a fancy collar. She's not sure what to make of it at first, but if Alayne could make fancy clothes for fancy people, she was sure entitled to make some for herself, too, if she wanted.]

So. I hear that I can get just about anything I want here if I drop the right name.

[dohaeris]

[sansa grins.]

Even boots, I hope.

[she hands vi the muffins first, then begins unpacking the clothes.]

I only had sandals at home, but I brought hose–socks–just in case.

[she holds the bundle of clothes ready, for whenever vi wants it.]

Was there anything useful in your journal this time? I should be glad to tell you what I can, but there's such a lot of it.

[she has her own journal with her, now filled with–well, adaine's notes, mostly, but copied with her own hand. she glances from vi to lady.]

And you haven't met Lady–she was waiting for me, the last time I woke up on the beach.

[lady picks her head up from her water and yips a friendly greeting. she stands, ready to offer her head to vi for petting.]

SHE WILL GET TO WORDS NEXT TAG OMG THIS IS TOO MUCH ;;;;

[faceblocks]

[she hovers there, wordless as she takes the muffins. because OF COURSE she takes the muffins. and she's already stuffed one in her mouth - is that real ?? fruit ?? HOW IS THIS REAL HOW IS THIS HAPPENING - and she's downed one and is chewing another as she takes the bundle in one hand, and closes in for a hug.

it's a few things: it's that vi isn't quite herself - walls that might have been up are ...not, and there's two sets of 'being here' intertwining - it's the idea that this girl who she didn't know, who didn't know her - had gone out of her way to make her something, both before - and it seems, now, too - when---

---when was the last time anyone had made her anything? Just given her something out of the fucking kindness of their heart (oh there's a memory there but it's raw and tinged with shimmer) without any kind of motive.

she'll lift alayne off her feet if she'll let her.]

[dohaeris]

Oh–!

[sansa laughs as she's embraced, trying to hug back with one arm (the other being full of clothes and trapped between them). she remembers this feeling–how kind everyone had been, renfri had even brought her clothes–in comparison to the world she knew. it stings a little, that vi has to meet the city under the light of the beast moon. at least she can give vi a little of the kindness she had known.

sansa is not so easily lifted off her feet, and besides there isn't much room for her to go, but she feels herself pulls up to her tiptoes, and laughs again. lady watches, waiting patiently for pets.]

It's good to see you too.

[they're squishing the muffins, aren't they...]

pardon vi she is having a moment

[faceblocks]

[squished muffins are FINE. and vi's laughing a little sheepishly as she releases alayne and steps back, but then fuck it, she's not embarrassed at all. it had been a long, long time since she'd hugged someone without the ache of sorrow in her chest - all three (really? three?) of her hugs in the last seven years had been swirling in an undercurrent of sadness.

a third muffin has been eaten. and mouth full, possibly unintelligible:]

Did you make these?

[it never occurs to her that it might be rude to just stand there and eat - but the weight of words hit her, and she realizes there's a bag in her hands of well, more things with no strings attached - and she's rifling through it, laughing in earnest after forcibly swallowing the last of muffin #3 - because there's a dress in here. It's simple, but well made and - oh, there are pants, that's more like it - and yes, these sandals will get her where she needs to go ...wherever that actually is. she'll deal with it later.]

You've got a fancy toolkit to match your satchel.

Yeah, it's. Uh. Same book, more stuff in it, though. Mostly about places and ...things. Blood, too. There's some really weird shit in there.

[what better time to take a break from thinking about eldritch Beings and different kinds of blood - and what kind of blood she might have - than to crouch down and hold her hand out toward Lady for her to sniff, or lick, or if she gets close enough, yes: pets. all the pets.]

Hello, Lady. That's a mighty fine collar you have there. I wonder who made that. Fancy clothes for fancy ladies, who's a fancy Lady?

[she will straight up lean in and boop lady's nose with her own nose because DOGGO ...if lady doesn't mind.]

[dohaeris]

[lady boops, of course. it's only polite. she's pleased to be called a fancy lady. sansa watches fondly, and laughs.]

Yes, I make the clothes we give out here, and some of the Sleeper robes. I try to meet the new ones at the inn to make sure the clothes they find there fit, but somehow you ended up in Crenshaw before I had the chance.

[she pauses, considering.]

Oh! I did make the muffins, too. I've had to learn to cook–it's very here to what I've known. Some of my friends from worlds with the little stoves and ovens took pity on me and showed me how much a cup of flour was.

[should she explain about the paleblood bakeoff? how to explain about the paleblood bakeoff.]

Allen managed to find a kitchen staff for this place. You should have a proper meal before we go home; they're much better cooks than I am.

[faceblocks]

[she's got little reference for being this unguarded - but in this place at this time it feels like a welcome load off - even if there'd been something needling at her on the boardwalk - among the crowds of trenchers trenchies - vi doesn't feel it now, at least. fuck off, bad vibes. and the boop just punts those bad vibes right back into the ocean.]

Yeah. Everything's kinda ...off this time, isn't it? The timing, I mean. This isn't. This is great. I'll take it.

[Hell, I'll even take a dress. She will never probably never wear the dress.]

You've done all right. Sounds like you've found ...people, a place. That's good. I was worried about you when I washed up again.

[in truth she underestimated her, and she's less annoyed at herself and more proud/surprised at alayne. vi does not know anything about a cup of flour, but she can fry a couple halfway decent things - clean a toxic fish or somesuch and spear it on a spit - if she calls upon old knowledge, maybe, but that's where her knowledge ends - that and food from a can (or stealing) - there's little to no opportunity to cook anything in prison.]

I'm not gonna say no to a meal. But those little cakes with the fruit? You have no idea. It's not like I got a lot of anything that wasn't slop in prison. So yeah, lead on to a proper meal---

[hold up. did she just say before we go home? there's a ---nah, she's heard that one wrong. ears must be full of seawater or not fully un-squidded yet. what she must mean is before we stop at a home to trade books, share useful information, maybe ????]

2: you cannot hide

[faceblocks]

[Even the air feels angry. The fucking oppressive heat, the humidity stoking the sweatstink of the crowd - the murmurings and whispers - the stinkeye of the Trencher woman as she passes by - wait, did she just - spit on the ground?

The paranoia creeps in, a different heat but just as oppressive - flowering in her chest - a sick bloom to match the bright blister on her cheek - burrowing up from under her tattoo, there comes a second, marking both recent and unwanted. It's a curve and a curl and it resembles the letter 'C', but better (or worse) it practically proclaims to everyone: coward.

A flush of shame up the back of her neck - through her cheeks and through her hands as they curl into fists because the spitter's said it now, plain as day and now some other shit has taken up the mantle only louder, and that's just...

...well, it's just too much. It's not true and also it is. Sure, she hadn't meant to leave her sister, not really, not for good, it was only a moment, a cool down and get your head on straight, an attempt to get a handle on the horrors that had been unfolding. Vi hadn't intended to run away, (she would never) but then again she hadn't meant to strike Powder either, and look how well she'd managed there. (What do we do when we're afraid? Welp, we start swinging and then see what happens.)

So fuck that Trencher, the one before him and the two more that are now looking in her direction - she can give back worse than she's getting if it's glaring they want. Is that it? Why stop there. She's not a single bit afraid of these fucks.]

Hey!

Come back and say that to my face, asshole.

[She's about three seconds from lunging, as it is.]

[mehanizovati]

[the voice is familiar enough viktor stops in his tracks, perked up with recognition as he moves towards it. the flash of pink hair is what makes it click properly into place, and he feels a vague relief to see it seemed vi's quiet must not have been going back to the sea.

he'd hardly call them friends by any means but still, it is nice to have someone from their home world around. the C catches his eye with a faint frown but more so the ah. situation. he moves forward, breaking her line of sight with the one she seems intent to start something with. not that he can blame her, with some of the attitudes these days.]

It is not worth the mess, Vi, certainly not when the oddities of this place are no doubt to blame.

[faceblocks]

[three...two....and --

--nope, suddenly there's a different person in her face. Only he's not speaking to her with any hostility, and wait, what?

The possibilities are many. Maybe he knows of her through Alayne. Maybe through someone else? Maybe he just read the tattoo on her cheek and guessed, but it stops her in her tracks and she just looks at him. She's too stunned in the moment to even be annoyed, but that might be coming.

The antagonists don't seem to be interested enough to move any closer - there are plenty of other people in the vicinity that raise their hairtrigger ire.]

How do you know my name?

[mehanizovati]

[viktor's brow raises at that, now sharing in her shock though for very different reasons. his expression goes thoughtful as he considers her for a few moments, trying to untangle if this 'C' is some new bullshit from the trench that comes with memory loss as a spicy topping.

annoying, if so.] Because you told me it. Do you not remember me? We met four months ago. You threatened to mug me but then very graciously did not, which I appreciate still, mind you.

[faceblocks]

[four months ago? is that from a 'march' to a 'july'? vi's eyes have gone from wide to narrow, reality spun in a new, unwelcome way.]

Bullshit. I'd remember that. And I don't. I don't remember you, and I---

---I threatened to mug you?

[she lets out a laugh, and it's both disbelief and belief because well, threatening to mug someone doesn't sound like something she wouldn't do. but it's quickly buried underneath the dread - and the compulsion to know if he sees it, too, the burn and curve of it (you left her) if he knows its meaning and would judge her for it.]

I'd appreciate if you could tell me who the fuck you are and what the fuck is going on.

[so that came out more hostile than she intended, and there's a wince, a huff and a breath before she means to try again but ...doesn't. it's harder than usual to level her head. what she does is reach back to draw the hood of her robes up and over her head and the offending side of her face.]

Did I threaten to take your boots?

[context: none. but she just tried to make a joke.]

[mehanizovati]

Eh, if it helps it was more heavily implying you could easily mug me with a threatening air about it. [he says it dryly, he looks back on the matter with some amusement, despite never really being sure if vi would one day change her mind and do just that. she is an odd duck, in his book. more maybe less an odd duck and instead thoroughly undercity born and raised, chaotic in that way.

his eyes keep wanting to draw to the c, enough that he recognizes something is itching at the back of his mind about it. something unnatural, trenchborn he's sure, that's he's trying to steadfastly ignore or fight.

(with middling results. the word 'coward' comes too easily to mind. it tries to slide to the tip of his tongue.)]

I am Viktor, we are from the same world, and the only two here who are as far as I am aware. You do know where you are, yes? The Trench, Sleepers, all of that? [just how full is the amnesia? (did she run away again?) he can't help a snort at the question though.] My bag, mostly.

[faceblocks]

[she looks him over, and first impression: she could absolutely mug him. he's tall, but he's a twig - and he doesn't exactly give off the vibe of fighter. which isn't to say he doesn't give off the vibe of dangerous. but it's not the kind of dangerous that raises a sixth sense sickness - it's something ...familiar (?) ...it's something else.]

Viktor. [waiting for it to ring a bell, and when it doesn't: an irritated sigh that peters out as she takes in what he's just said. takes it in and half repeats it to herself before:] Woah. Woah, woah, woah. You're a piltie? Or are you---

---do you know me from the undercity? Do you know what this fucking thing on my---

[she'd almost said it - this fucking thing on my face is - but she stops. Sets her jaw. Remembers to breathe.]

---yeah, Trench. Sleepers, squids, blood. Not all of it, but I'm getting there. Here. care to help me with any of that. You know, since we're old pals.

Or I could threaten to mug you ...again? Even though I never did that. I could absolutely take you, but it'd be a dick move. [THAT'S THE OTHER THING, THOUGH. She does not. Absolutely does not remember any first time.] Cause you've been pretty nice.

[mehanizovati]

[he grimaces- fair, he spent almost as much time in piltover as he did the undercity if he's counting years, but being called a piltie isn't any less dreadful. especially here, where he's had too much time to think of a lot of festering bitterness.]

We never met in our world. I was born in the undercity and grew up there, until I was accepted into the Academy and moved to Piltover as a young man. If you've heard of Hextech I'm one of the cofounders.

[a lot of information there, and in truth he always knew very little about vi. he thinks she mentioned the lanes once, otherwise he couldn't say.

the 'dick move' makes him snort, amused, and he glances around at the unfriendly faces for a moment before nodding and glancing back to her.] Since you're being so generous as not to 'be a dick' I'd be happy to help. Maybe elsewhere, I don't care for the attitude the city natives have. I have a lab, in the Willful Machine.

[because yes, whatever is happening with her face? is concerning. he's noticed more than a few people's eyes drawn to it, just like his seem to be.]

[faceblocks]

[she's actually listening - born in the undercity catches and hooks her despite the situation - but then hold the fuck ABSOLUTE INSERT RECORD SCRATCH moment, and she lets out an unexpected, incredulous laugh. it's got a hint of that festering bitterness viktor is familiar with, but there's irony and fucking amazement there, too.]

Hextech. [??!!!] Yeah, I've ...heard of it. Seen it up close more than a few times. [And I've gotta say, these feelings are a very mixed bag. It's a lot, It is. It's so many problems and also with those problems, a few questions. That she keeps to herself for the moment, possibly because she's still processing this information. Willful wha--- she almost asks: oh yeah, that was on the map.]

Right. Time to move our happy and generous asses the hell outta here.

[she'll follow him (and not because she couldn't take that bag of shit and wind and his friends thank you very much) but because she remembers, grudgingly, that spilling blood here isn't ...well, it's complicated from what she read and she doesn't even know what kind of blood she has. And after a long while, probably all the way there, tbh, she adds:]

...thanks.

Re: 2: you cannot hide

[madgamerhat]

[ The old man walks with an empty basket over his shoulders. There's commotion coming from around the corner. His curiosity is piqued and the old man approaches to see what the problem is.

He sees the brightly colored teen grit her teeth. Those in front of her seem disgusted. How typical...Trenchees don't always like Sleepers... The idea brings a spur taste to the old man's mouth.

The question now is: to interfere or not to interfere? ]

What's going on?

[ The old man's voice carries out after the girl's discontent. He is uncertain of whether or not a fight is necessary. ]

[faceblocks]

[there are and have been a lot of days in which vi's answer would be a fight is always necessary but she's not wholly sure here, though she's not exactly listening to the more rational part of herself ...more like telling it to shut up and fuck off.]

Dunno. Maybe ask these shitbags. [her voice raises enough that the mouthy one turns again, and she shoots a glare back over her shoulder before ...vi blinks as she takes him in: not expecting an old man. one of them or one of ...is there an us? are sleepers an us? old? yeah. but that doesn't have to mean anything. this guy doesn't look frail. he looks ...she can't quite put her finger on it, but he wouldn't seem out of place in the lanes.]

Or don't. [definitely directed at them:] Because look who's just standing there like a bunch of goons. Call me a coward? Pffft. I'm not the one walking away. What the hell is with you people?

[she rubs at her cheek, fighting the urge to ask this stranger (this fellow sleeper?) Can you see it? This thing on my face? What's it telling you? ...she knows what it's telling her, and it only makes her ball her fists up tighter.]

[madgamerhat]

[ The old man glances back at the Trenchies scurrying off. All bark, no bite. He thinks with a bitter taste. As his attention turns back on the girl, the old man's expression softens. ]

I understand. They aren't worth the fight. I'm sure you could easily take them on.

[ The old man's voice hushes to a whisper. ]

That's why they are afraid. Sleepers have abilities these folks don't have. They act out of ignorance and fear.

[ The old man returns to a level volume. He casts a sympathetic glance. ]

My name is Sato. If you need anything, just let me know.

[ He gives a sincere smile. ]

Even if that means just talking and listening.

[faceblocks]

[He's right: they're not. Probably. One last glance backward, and then, for now they're an afterthought. What's not an afterthought, though is that little voice rising up through her flushed cheek, the one that whispers they're right, you know.. Though ...here's this man has telling her otherwise. It's a small comfort, and it feels incorrect somehow, but it's appreciated.]

Yeah, well, I'm full up on ignorance and fear. Got enough of it where I'm---

---where I was from. I get it, I'm just tired of it. And it's really dumb of them, too. If they can't ...if they don't have abilities like we do? Not gonna end well.

[this kindness? unexpected. not unwelcome, though. it's been a weird few days. and things have only been getting worse as the weather's warmed. as the sky chucks down all that rain.]

Okay. [it's almost a question, the way her voice rises up. but his smile seems sincere.] Sato, huh? I'm Vi. Just talking and listening. No catch?

[madgamerhat]

It's a pleasure to meet you.

[ Sato provides a formal bow. He reflects on her previous statement. She must be used to dealing with aggravating behavior then. That's good, she will last well. Although the old man's experience in Trench is minimal, he at least has grown to understand quickly the importance of survival. ]

Just talking and listening.

[ He repeats the phrase.]

The only catch would be fishing, but I don't know how comfortable you are with boats!

[ Perhaps the joke won't make Vi laugh. After all, it's a bit lengthy. The old man grins and casts a gaze towards several passerbys. ]

If you have another place to chat, then that would be fine as well.

[faceblocks]

[the formal bow is one more unexpected thing - especially given the tone of trench right now. nothing about his gesture seems mocking, so forgive her if her mouth drops open just a fraction. and yeah she's used to all aggression all the time mostly - she'd only been a week out of prison before she found herself here.]

Not sure if I'm more of a talker or a listener. It's ...uh, been a while.

And that depends on what you consider a boat. I can't say I've even been on a fancy boat, or a big boat, but I've been on a dinghy, and I've helped build a shitty raft or two.

[give her a moment. catch. it's not hilariously funny, but it's kind of ...dad joke funny. and she appreciates a sense of humor more than some people. so she gives him a small smile, a nod, a yeah, i see what you did there.]

Is it true that the water here's mostly safe? For fishing, I mean.

[and yeah, she's fine with getting the fuck out of here - but she's going to keep her cheek covered - it feels safer that way.]

[madgamerhat]

[ Sato appreciates her response. To see someone crafty at her age reminds him of how adventurous he was in his youth. Perhaps talking more with people may jog my memory... He thinks with earnest. ]

Any survival skill will come in handy. Especially if you decide to step away from some of the more populated areas.

[ He takes a moment to recall his oceanic experience. ]

Fishing in the ocean is always tricky no matter what sea you're in. However, for the most of my time on open waters, the fish are plentiful.

[ Sato draws in close for a whisper. ]

Heck, even though the Trenchees don't favor us- they are still willing to bargain for resources.

[ He leans back with a smile. ]

So, whatever you can grab a hold of or craft- they will have an offer.

[ The old man then runs by a thought. ]

Have you found a shelter yet?