bigapplesauce | Zagreus' arrival [Open]

Lucy is strolling through the park because... well, mostly because she doesn't have anything better to do, really. Having just arrived yesterday herself, it's not like she has a job to go to, and her new apartment isn't very cheery. She did go and buy herself some decent winter clothes, though, because that was a necessity.

And then some guy falls out of a tree right next to her, making her jump. Some guy who really doesn't look like he belongs, given the outfit, and hey wait a minute. She knows him. She's not... entirely sure which one it is, because she met multiple people who look like that though. (Not to mention she met someone else with the Doctor's face yesterday, who had no idea who the Doctor was, but at least he was dressed differently.) Does this kind of thing really happen this often? Apparently.

"You okay?" she asks, in case he did just arrive the same way she did. And in case he really is someone she knows.

Edited 2012-12-05 05:24 (UTC)

Of course there's someone nearby to witness his tussle with gravity. Of course. And through the disorientation, he recognises her. Mostly.

His memory doesn't turn up a lot for her, but then his memory was never the best, and the patches of blankness and fog seem to have been growing lately. There's a vague jumble of impressions--cottony grey apathy, and a heartening spark of conflict--he remembers her mind, and getting smartly evicted from it, but the specifics are taking their time.

"Oh, yes. Nothing like sleeping al fresco to freshen one's mind." This is sarcasm. He hates trees. Zagreus grits his teeth and braces for the cliche. "Where am I?"

Yep, appears to be another one of those.

"Central Park, New York," she answers. He appears to recognise her though, so it's probably one of the two she met. Something about his demeanor and sarcasm makes her guess it was the least favourable of them (at least when it comes to general opinion, though she always found him interesting).

"I'm going to hazard a guess and say you were somewhere else entirely before you fell out of that tree?"

New York...? Why? "Good guess. As good as mine, certainly." He would have sworn he didn't go to sleep in New York. Not that he always wakes up where he's gone to sleep, but this seems excessive. Less being swept under a rug, more being swept across the threshhold and out the door entirely.

"I remember you. Ambitious...no, the opposite, I think." Remember might not be the word. It's still a bit too visceral for that. "I made some improvements. In your mind."

Lucy smiles. So definitely that one, then. She's not quite as chatty and open as the last time they met, nor is she anywhere near as unhinged. If nothing else, jail had a somewhat calming effect on her. Gave her some time to get her mind back together, well, somewhat at least.

"Yes, long time ago. For me, at least. I never got to thank you for that," she answers. Of course, the Master had undone most of it, but not all. "It made things a good deal easier." Not that she'd do it again. She's become a bit more protective of her mind. But it certainly made killing her husband (twice!) a fair deal simpler. And hey, this is actually a person (or entity, anyway) that she could actually admit that to without judgement.

"By the way, I should tell you that you've probably fallen through a rift in space and time and ended up in a different universe," she informs him casually. No biggie. Seems a bit implausible that the first person he'd bump into would be her, but then this whole situation seems a bit far-fetched in general. Actually, her whole life seems a bit implausible at this point, so what can you do?

It was a long time ago for him too. Possibly. Probably? Though it sounds almost more like she's referring to a less literal passage of time. If only he cared a little bit more about following up on people after he makes alterations to them. Oh well. He waves away her mention of thanks, which is very notably not strictly gratitude at all.

Not surprising. A rift in space and time is the next best thing to a cosmic garbage disposal. Well, no, a black hole is; so technically he could be worse off. "Well. It's about time, I suppose. The old one was starting to chafe." Another universe? Well that's just great. Why not. "And what about you? No way out, I suppose?" He knows the way these things work. "And what about your husband?" Or anyone with a good grasp on things and a mechanical bent.

They haven't really had that many occasions to meet again, though. And her husband wouldn't have been pleased.

"Dead, last time I saw him," she answers without much concern. Not that that would necessarily stop him from showing up here, for multiple reasons. "And I've barely just arrived myself. We're not allowed to leave Manhattan, and there doesn't seem to be a way to go back through the rift."

Dead? That'll never stick. And what a very specific way of phrasing she has. "Not allowed?" This is already setting off his paranoia. What exactly has he stepped in, that being 'allowed' is even in question? He can almost feel the walls closing in around him, which is odd, considering he's still out of doors on a bright-but-cold winter's day.

Well, she hasn't been here long, how hard can she have tried to escape? This thought lets him rein in his rising sense of foreboding, if only a bit.

"Well, so I'm told, anyway," she answers. She hasn't actually tried, because she has no need to leave. She pauses for a second, considering her words.

"The way I've been told, there's two groups of people who want to keep track of anyone who comes through the rift. There's Romac, who work for the government, and want to keep any aliens and creatures and whatever else contained and hidden. Then there's the rebels, who want them to be free and have equal rights and be able to live in the open," she rattles off quickly. She's sure the explanation she recieved was more detailed and elegant - and probably quite a bit more polarised.

She gets as far as 'keep track' before his face settles into a pronounced moue of distaste. He isn't precisely concerned with what comes after that; neither option is exactly winning his favour, here. The two groups could be arguing over whether to make rift folk into one of two similar yet distinct types of sausage, for all he cares. He just knows he wants no part of it.

"So people are aware of this 'rift' phenomenon, then." His voice is chillier than the air. "And what if I neither want to be 'contained' nor 'live in the open', hm?"

"Then I suppose you keep your head down and try to avoid their attention," she answers with a shrug. "I certainly won't turn you in." She might be getting some financial aid from the rebels, sure, but her loyalty towards them is extremely limited. She was tempted to avoid them both herself, but decided she didn't want to deal with homelessness and extreme poverty.

"Society as a whole doesn't seem to be aware of it, but there appear to be plenty in this city who are," she adds. "And many more who are aware of the fact that weird things happen a lot here. Oh, and cats can talk." Because Zagreus loves talking cats, doesn't he? Not that Lucy is actually aware of that, it just seemed like a thing to mention.

How obnoxious this all is, indeed more annoying repercussions are coming into view the longer he thinks about his current circumstances. He's bound to be given either no choice or too much, confinement or exposure, not a very appealing potentiality all around. Being subject to reality and rules, and at the hands of what, humanity? No, he'll just have to find a way to slither out of it, or possibly just break things until leaving is possible. This just isn't going to work. And that's not even accounting for talking cats.

"What, all cats? No, never mind, I don't care about cats. Anything else worth knowing? How fortunate a familiar face was around to bring me up to date." There must not be any benefit to bringing whatever the rift coughs up to their attention, or maybe she's just too apathetic. In that regard this could have gone so much worse. There are plenty of beings who would have loved the chance to make trouble for him, or have leverage over him.

"Some people are changed from going through the rift. Some of them even get superpowers," she answers. Because apparently that's a thing, and probably worth knowing.

And yeah, it's mostly the apathy. The rebels would probably like her better if she brought newbies to their attention, but she doesn't care much about being particularly liked by them. She mostly wants to keep out of it, and has no problem being subject to reality and living a "normal" life.

...That is indeed worth knowing, yes. Though when you don't even properly have a species, how do you know what's a superpower? Maybe the lesson is he had the power inside all along. Alternately, maybe nothing happened and he just got dumped through the rift in his sleep like yesterday's trash. He certainly knows which of those options sounds most likely at the moment.

"Well, if anything along those lines crops up I'll be sure to let you know." That's a lie. He's still frowning in considerable consternation. "What if you did 'turn me in'?" Which group would she even have signed on with, is she likely to have cared in the first place? He certainly isn't. And what exactly does Manhattan entail, how big's his enclosure at the zoo, so to speak? Notably he has yet to consider asking when it is, having only established where under some duress. Whenever it is, it's cold. He shudders rather deliberately, not unlike a bird rearranging its feathers for better insulation.

Lucy shrugs. "Not sure. Probably they'd only keep an eye on you and make sure you didn't get into trouble. If you did get into trouble, they might do more," she answers. "I guess they'd also try to recruit to fight for their cause. They did with me. I told them no thanks, but they still let me have a free apartment and an allowance." She knows that if things escalate, it might mean a bit more, but for now she's okay.

She considers Zagreus for a bit. She's not exactly sure where or when he's from, or what he even is, but she assumes that in the event he does have currency, it's still unlikely he has American dollars on him. "Do you eat? I could buy you dinner," she suggests. She's not exactly sure why she's offering, she knows he isn't exactly a saint, but she can be fairly straight-forward with him, which is refreshing.

This isn't sounding like something impossible to escape from, and it does seem like a good way to gather resources. Not money, of course, money is immaterial, but people, non-humans, abilities and technology, these are all tools that might prove useful. Still the idea of an affiliation of any sort grates...he supposes it really depends on how well they can keep track of their charges, and how much information they demand up front. He isn't interested in being catalogued and barcoded like a library book.

He can't help being a little dumbfounded by her question, and then more than a little amused. Does he eat. Apparently literary analysis of fairytale monsters and their appetites wasn't a favourite past-time in the Saxon household. His amusement doesn't last long, however; her offer helps drive the reality of his circumstances home. Naturally it occurs to him to wonder about her motivation; she's pretty much the personification of amorality and apathy, and if any of this explanation has been a recruitment attempt, well, then they're going to need to fire their PR department. Possibly she just has the foresight to know that hungry, disoriented monsters cause trouble. "That would be a considerable kindness," he allows with a surprising facsimile of good grace. Though whether it's more a kindness to him or whoever is spared dealing with his bullshit thereby, who knows.

A kindness to everyone involved, probably. And honestly, Lucy knows extremely little about Zagreus, except that he wasn't very popular at the parties, that he seems to like to burn down things, and that he's capable of rewriting her mind. Which isn't exactly a very promising start if you mostly want to avoid trouble, but since when has Lucy been bothered about consequences anyhow?

She smiles and gestures for him to follow, leading the way out of the park. She hasn't had time to really familiarise herself with the city or neighbourhood, but it's crawling with places to eat pretty much everywhere, so it'll hardly be difficult to find someplace.

"I contacted the rebel group myself. They sounded less inclined to meddle with my life, and I've had just about enough of all-powerful governments," she explains.

Being concerned with consequences is for losers anyway. But it's likely she's more able to think along those lines than he is, and she's right to think that he is, at best, a troublesome party guest and at worst a hazard to life and limb. But for now at least he maintains his (relatively) gracious demeanor, following her from the park, though he's pretty clearly bristling at the future under the surface.

All-powerful governments? He hasn't had any dealings with those, but is opposed to them on the same principle as the factions and their nosiness. "And have they proven to be less meddlesome, then? Of course, you're only human, what's to meddle with." Don't take it badly, in this case it's a blessing, really. Despite her explanation it doesn't occur to him that she might speak from experience about the powers thing, and he doesn't know enough of her history to mark her down as actually fairly competent, and worth keeping track of.

"As of yet, yes." Though, true, there hasn't been much to meddle with. Not yet, anyhow. And she's pretty used to humans being considered simple or unimportant, so no worries. "They seem to be more positive towards us immigrants having actual rights, at least."

"Not sure what they'd make of you, though," she adds after a second. "Like you said, I'm only human. They might be more interested in checking you out thoroughly."

Zagreus is very sure being 'checked out' is completely unacceptable. He isn't even sure they'd have the instrumentation for it, for one, and he doubts they'd like anything they found, if they did. Though, being the center of any kind of attention does have its own appeal, and he's relatively certain he'd be a show-stealer of a find, no matter how odd the things the rift coughs up tend to be. ~~What if they falsely determined him to be completely harmless, and not too dangerous to walk free at all? Perish the thought.~~ But who knows if they even have the resources for anything like that? Or the resources to be useful in any way at all?

"Well of course. 'Actual rights' wouldn't include any manner of privacy or integrity, naturally." These still just don't seem like too different of options, here; caging is better than culling, but not by a whole lot. "Is anyone actually trying to get away from this, this zoo?"

"Naturally," she agrees. Though to be fair, it wasn't that terrible and invasive. Lots of people probably have worse times at customs. Not that she ever did - always flying first class and being a respectable, rich, white woman meant having some respect shown, even by airport security.

"I assume someone is. Some probably succeed, too, though I'm not sure how. They're watching all of the exits out of the city," she says as they cross the street, heading towards the shops.

Watching all the exits, and probably watching her on some level too; no matter how harmless and human she's been playing it. He needs to know more about them, before he shows his hand, at the very least. Maybe she can be convinced to play spy? Not that he's in any position to bargain...not like he's ever managed to coerce anyone into doing anything subtle...

"But you don't know of anyone actively working with that goal." He eyes the city in a way that somehow manages to be absently watchful, following her with the sort of trust displayed by those used to not knowing or caring where precisely they are, before turning his scrutiny her way. "Notably, you are not working toward that goal yourself. I take it you've settled in, then?" He manages to sound only a little disdainful.

"I hardly know anyone here yet," Lucy points out. Peter didn't much care for the city, but he didn't seem... ambitious? Adventurous? Brave? Reckless? Something like that. Not enough to take the initiative to try and get out of here, anyway. The only other people she's met were rebels.

"I've tried not to get involved. Unlike you, I don't mind settling," she answers. Though it's a bit (or a lot) of a lie. She's not sure exactly what she wants to be doing. She suddenly has far more options than she's had in years - or ever, really. No responibilities to family or friends, even. Settling in has mostly been what she's been doing to postpone any sort of choice or ambition. And part of her doesn't even care.

Yes, it's a despair-filled sort of freedom, isn't it? For her. Still a vast step down for him. But he's at least the sort who could imagine feeling liberated by a catastrophe.

"And what will settling entail, then? No powerful shadows to stand in at the moment, are there." Hey, it's not like she'd seemed broken up about her husband's death. "At some point you might have to cast one of your own."

She's doesn't seem broken up about his death maybe, but she is. Though not in a conventional sense. It's not really the death itself, but the necessity of it, and of her having to bring it about. It's all kind of complicated and painful, and acting blasé about it is an easy defense. Apathy comes easy to her.

"I'm sure there's plenty if I decided to go looking for them," she answers with feigned nonchalance. Hell, they already tried to have her fight for the rebels, whatever that would entail. Or she could go help Romac. Plenty of shadows. "Perhaps it's easiest not to stand tall enough to cast one," she comments, partly to herself.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject