fluxscape | [OPEN] I've been feeling a bit on edge

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[OPEN] I've been feeling a bit on edge

Who: Zoey Westen (

pythianwoman), and YOU
What: Catch-all; seer’s got her powers back
When: Early July, after the event is over. (And later. I'm flexible. XD)
Where: Pour Judgement
Warning(s): There’s going to be mention/talk of blood/injury, as she’s still VERY MUCH injured from her knife fight with a drunk in an alley after her shift at Pour Judgement on June 27th.
Notes: Feel free to find her anywhere around the bar, wildcard it up and find her somewhere else, or hit me up to plot a different thing!

Zoey knew the moment her powers have returned. She could FEEL it. It was like a piece has suddenly slotted back into place, like she suddenly felt like she fit in her own skin again. Everything felt right again. (She knew exactly what this meant for everyone’s powers, though, and she was already planning on reinforcing the wards on her home. Just in case he learned where she lived.)

Her aerial silks were finally up in her home, too, but she won’t be using them for a long fucking time. Thanks to one asshole’s knife fetish.

She’s really wishing that one of the gifts the fae gave her was quick healing, right now, though. Because this fucking SUCKS. And yeah, she’s a little impatient given that she knows that Scratch has HIS powers back now too, and will probably be gunning for her. With as wounded as she is she is at a distinct disadvantage. (Even if she still has a couple... surprises in store for him if necessary.) But it is what it is. She’ll have to live with it, and face him if she has to, no matter the shape she’s in. It’s not be the first time, and it won’t be the last. She takes to carrying supplies in her satchel so she can change bandages and clean it should she need to.

And there are times she needs to.

She shows up to her shifts at Pour Judgement like nothing happened. Like she’s fine. (Because she is. She’s always fine. Even when she’s not. Especially when she’s not.) She paler than usual, though, for someone who's fine. But she’s... a little wary. Her gift of sight is back, so Scratch can’t ambush her there again (thank fuck), but she makes a point to keep track of everyone who comes in, anyway. And she can’t help but be a little...warier than usual. A little more tense than she usually is.

She carries herself... gingerly. It’s subtle, like a woman who is focusing very hard on something, but sometimes she forgets herself, and it slips through. Or she moves without thinking and an almost-flicker of pain crosses her face, hidden with practiced ease. Every now and then, when she’s out of sight of the bar’s patrons and hopefully her co-workers, she’ll pause, pressing a hand against her side and just... breathe a moment. She's a little less... one hundred percent steady on her feet. A little dizzy far more frequently. Fatigue and weakness haunt her steps. And she hates it. But it's not the first time she's suffered heavy blood loss. It probably won't be the last.

None of it effects her job performance. She doesn't let it. It's hidden just as easily and just as well as everything else. But there are those moments when she slips off to the back, out of sight, away from others. THe little moments in between making drinks and serving that things slip out a little.

It’s not until a glass falls off the bar that the façade breaks to any noticeable degree; she’s instinctively moving to try and catch it before the glass has even fallen, quick and graceful... for a moment, anyway. The motion is too quick, too sharp, and she swallows a choked cry of pain and curls an arm around her midsection, hand pressing against her side.

The glass shatters on the floor.

“Fuck,” she grits out, trying to breathe through the newly renewed agony.

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That look. Yes, he knows that look. He's seen it on a lot of fellow researchers, even, before they found a home for their work at the FBC.

He sets down his pen for a moment, reaching his hand out to rest it over hers in a comforting fashion. He smiles, a little sadly himself, keeping his voice down to preserve her privacy in this situation. "...Okay. It's okay. You're definitely not mad. The world is. Some people just have a little more of the world in them than others. Yes?" A little squeeze, and then he pulls his hand back to his pen.

"What did you hear from me exactly? And how did it feel for you? Images, sounds, tastes, physical sensations?" He's not trying to barrage her with questions - instead, he's trying to show her that what has gotten her called crazy by others is just a day in the office for him.

Letting her know he thinks she's extraordinary, but extraordinary can also be normalcy.

Zoey stares down at his hand for a long moment, where it rests over hers. ’Some people just have a little more of the world in them than others. Yes?’ Oh, that is… something, isn’t it. His words earn him a lopsided little smile as something quavers deep within her. They were the sort of thing she had longed to hear for most of her life. Wanting so deeply to be accepted for exactly who, and what, she is. Since her gift had first manifested, since the first time she had been looked as though she were mad, shunned and mocked… since she first learned to hide what she was. Keep it to herself.

She learned to do that at a very young age.

And to suddenly hear them, to have someone TELL her such things is almost too much. To have someone letting her know he thinks she’s extraordinary, that it’s just normal for him is… a depth of feeling of belonging, of welcome she never realised she’d never had until it suddenly was there, filling her chest.

Her brow furrows, as she searches for the vocabulary to put into words something she has never really, truly, tried to describe for anyone before. “It was… a cacophony, chaos. Like I was receiving three separate radio transmissions all at once. All accompanied by feedback. Words, and song lyrics, and your words. Filling my head until they were all I could hear. All I could think.”

For as long as she needs, Darling lets Zoey sit in this moment. It has to have been so hard for her, he thinks, if she is this guarded. He's seen that before, working where he worked, but still it always strikes him. He's always kind of liked that moment - that moment of being able to say no, no you're not crazy. Giving them a peek at something bigger than they had perhaps imagined.

It's part of why he works where he does.

When she finds the words, he nods, jotting some shorthand down and then bringing his eyes up again so as not to seem too impersonal. "...Clairaudience, then. Your description of radio transmissions is right on the mone-" A pause.

"Wait, did you say song lyrics?"

She’s about to correct him, tell him that no, it’s more than just clairaudience, so much more, begin to explain the… full breadth and scope of what it is she does, what she is (because she can, for the first time in… who knows how long, she can go into detail with someone regarding her gift)… until he pauses and asks another question. She nods. “It was a song, playing in my head.”

Had seemed a little odd in comparison to everything else filling her head but it’s not the first time and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

There is a hint of embarrassment that crosses Darling's face at that - like he already knows what that might be. Clearing his throat, he shakes himself. "Ah, right. Never mind that part, then."

Not important right now.

"So then. Is it...is it only the sounds? A lot of abilities in the same vein do tend to be comorbid."

Zoey arches an amused eyebrow at him, at the hint of embarrassment crossing his face; she’s almost certain he knows exactly what song that might be that she’d heard. And will have stuck in her head for a while. Possibly forever, given how her memory works. And she walked in looking like dynamite... Goddamnit.

Well that’s exactly what she’d been meaning to mention. She huffs a tired laugh and shakes her head. “Oh no. It’s surround sound and Technicolor; taste, touch, sight, sound, smell... emotion... all of it. Past, present, and future. I’ve got it all.”

Well, it is an awfully catchy tune. Disco will never die as long as it lives on in our hearts.

The explanation coaxes an enthusiastic nod from Darling, hand scribbling notes as fast as it can while he looks from the pad up to Zoey. "Wonderful - wonderful. It's unusual for it all to be present...but the unusual is my Tuesday." A lopsided grin, friendly, sweet, as he sips from his Scotch.

"When you touched my arm," he ventures, carefully, "Did you feel anything...unusual? From me, compared to from other people? Besides the disco, that is."

“So it’s not, usually, in your experience, then.” She asks the question, because she’s had SO MANY about her gift. And there has been no one to ask. No way for her to learn. Not in depth, not the way she wanted. She grins then, too, brilliant and amused, ice blue eyes sparkling. “Mine too.”

“Yes.” It’s instinctual, before she’s had a chance to even think about it. The seer’s answer. “There was... feedback. Which isn’t something I usually catch from people.” She hasn’t. Not in five some odd worlds. She remembers it, remembers the feedback, and thinks past it. It had been a bit overwhelming in the moment, but even if she didn’t see it, she still saw it. She just... has to remember. Sift through. “And beyond that... a chiming. Almost... a ripple?”

Something... reacting. To her, she thinks. “Could you sense me?”

Edited 2021-07-15 10:24 (UTC)

"Well, it isn't unheard of - but it's only very select people who wind up with such a...broad skillset. We'll have to try to classify what exactly you have going on." A pause. "Of course, if you want to. No pressure. Yes."

Darling listens carefully as she describes the sensation - eyes trained on her, writing notes in a swift and scratchy hand.

"Well, I couldn't...sense you, exactly. Not as such, not the same way you feel things. I...hm. How to explain." A sip. "I've been...changed, by a Resonance. One that makes me resistant to things like telepathy. You probably hit that."

Complicated. From his expression, there's definitely some emotion wrapped up in the topic.

Zoey thinks she could hug him, right now. She nods. “I do. Very much so.” A pause, as she bites her lip for a moment. It feels so fucking strange, to be talking about her gift so easily with someone. “I’ve never... had the chance. To properly classify what it is I can do. To really delve into it. There’s been no one I could ask. No way for me to learn. Not to the depths I’ve wanted to. Needed. To.” She’d done what she could. Made do. Improvised. Sought out manuscripts, folklore, legends. Everything that might have even the slightest mention of seers, foresight, prophecy. Run what tests she could.

Oh. That is. Complicated, for him. Isn’t it. She can see it. Feel it. There’s gentle understanding in her eyes, on her face, and it’s her turn to reach out and cover his hand with her own. Wordlessly letting him know that if he ever wants to talk... she’s here. “A Resonance?” she echoes softly as a few more pieces fall into place, the words Hedron and hiss once more on her tongue. Only she doesn’t have to be afraid to mention them, she thinks. Not anymore. Not with him. “Hedron, then. And the other, that very dangerous sound is... The Hiss?” It’s not... entirely a question.

Edited 2021-07-27 08:43 (UTC)

At the promise of further investigation, Darling unmistakably brightens - and his expression grows fond as she explains herself. "Yes, it's...difficult," he murmurs into a sip of his whiskey, "When the thing you want to discuss the most is an impossibility to others. Any light I can shed, I am happy to be your lantern."

Then she's gentle, looking at him with sympathy, and then the words tumble so easily from her lips and his mouth goes so dry he has to sip his whiskey again.

"...Remarkable," he breathes first, just...blinking, processing. Then he gathers himself and nods. "Yes, exactly. Two forces, two...concepts, beings, energies, in perfect opposition. I exposed myself fully to Hedron. It...took a toll, but at least I'm still here."

Those who were exposed to the Hiss were not nearly so lucky.

The way his expression brightens at the promise of further investigation is ADORABLE. And his offer to be her lantern in her search for information on her powers is... sweet. The bartender filling in for her drops off a second drink for her in the brief lull in their conversation.

Remarkable. Not a word she’s had directed at her before, she thinks. Not about this. Not about her gift. What she can do.

Oh. That explains a lot. Although she doesn’t quite know how. She squeezes his hand gently. “Sometimes that’s hard, too, though,” she murmurs. “Those who were exposed to the Hiss weren’t lucky... And finding your footing, finding your way back to yourself after everything is said done. Is hard, too.” It was a bad situation all around, she thinks. Even knowing just the fringes, the ragged edges, she knows that. She can feel it.

She’s not actually aware of the fact that she’s responding to something he didn’t actually say aloud, this time. Words, phrases... those she’s used to. She’s been picking those up since her gift first manifested itself. Full thoughts? Sentences? That’s new. And as concerning as it had been, that first time she consciously realised it, it’s as easy as breathing to respond to his words.

Casper has been though a lot - and though he has been coping with things in his own way, her reassurance is visibly appreciated, the arc of his shoulders relaxing a little as if she had just removed a bit of weight. He opens his mouth, about to respond in turn, about to admit she was right -

But then it hits him like a freight train, and he goes momentarily slack-jawed again before he chuckles in disbelief.

“…Yes - yes. But Zoey, I…I didn’t talk about the Hiss victims out loud.” He looks her in the eye, unafraid, CURIOUS. “Did you just…hear that from me?”

It’s a relief to see the shift in him, the line of his shoulders relaxing a little. And he opens his mouth... only to slack-jawed for a moment and she’s looking at him in concern as he chuckles in disbelief.

At his words she goes very, very still, looking at him half incredulously. Disbelieving, almost. “What? No, you had to ha-” And then she thinks, carefully, mentally repeats the last few moments of their conversation, and... “I couldn’t... that’s not, that’s not what my powers do... Words, phrases, not... whole thoughts. Not... hearing thoughts...” But she’d... earlier.

Once is happenstance... twice...? Twice is the beginning of a pattern, and she knows herself. And even though she KNOWS her powers, knows that that isn’t how her powers tend... she knows herself. Knows what just happened. Even though it shouldn’t be possible. “I... did.”

She’s a seer, though, not a fucking telepath. She’s NEVER been a telepath. Just a seer. Nothing more. Nothing less. Or so she thought, anyway. What if she's wrong?

Is she wrong?

It's with care that he watches her puzzle this out - watches her reel, balk, wonder aloud...and then confirm. The reaction is surprising, but if there's one thing Casper Darling has learned to do, it is roll with the punches.

His voice is gentle when he speaks again, though it's hard to keep all the excitement out of his tone.

"...Is that new for you, then?"

Zoey curls her hands around her drink. She doesn’t know how she feels, realising that there may be something new to her powers. Or something she’d never realised. It feels... uncomfortable. Makes her feel like her skin doesn’t fit quite right. “Very,” she murmurs softly. “I think, at least. I’m beginning to wonder. It happened earlier, too. In our conversation. I noticed it, but thought it was... happenstance. A fluke.”

Taking a sip of her drink, she continues. “I’ve always known things about other people. Picked up on things. Names, words, phrases. From the moment my gift manifested. But it’s never been... that. So far as I knew.”

Awkward as Darling can be in certain social climates, he can tell this news is rattling Zoey's proverbial cage a little bit. He sips from his own drink, jots something down, then finally responds, that thinly-veiled enthusiasm still brightening his words just a little.

"Well...these things do have a way of evolving. Our brains change, you know. It's only natural. I know it's not much of a comfort to say that, it's sort of like going through puberty again, but - well, at least maybe I can help you settle into it. Train it. I designed programs for that, back where I came from. We can do some exercises. Calisthenics, for that power of yours."

“And I doubt being yanked around the multi-verse six or seven times has helped matters any.” Logically it makes senses that she’s... changed a little. (Or a lot. Gods what if she’s changed a lot.) Between natural evolution and travelling between worlds... it makes sense. Doesn’t make it settle any easier. Doesn’t make it feel any less strange. But it’s something.

And she’s not alone in this. For once... she’s not alone. She half laugh, half sighs. “Supernaturally powered second puberty. Just what I always wanted.” There’s... a little excitement now, though, despite how rattled she is. She’s always been thirsty for knowledge, for learning, and learning new things. And this is... very, very new. (She supposes the thirst for knowledge is a given, given her powers.)

He talks about training her. Like it’s normal. And for him it is. She offers him a lopsided smile, a little of that slow-burning excitement lighting up her ice blue eyes. “I’d like that.” And if there’s anything else, anything MORE... they’ll find it. Which is unnerving and terrifying and thrilling all at once.

Speaking of... “I should warn you, though. Thanks to my... jaunts to certain corners of the multi-verse I come with a few extra powers that weren’t... originally included with me.”

"Probably not, no." But he can see that he's brought comfort to her, and his eyes twinkle, hand reaching out to gently pat hers. They would find the answers together! His favorite part of working on any project is the journey to 'why.' This is bound to be an incredible journey indeed.

Especially when she mentions the extra powers.

"Oh? What do you mean by that?" Is it like bonding with an OoP, perhaps?

Thiiiiis is going to be a really weird conversation. Well, weirder. She’s at home at weird, though. But she’s never actually talked about the whole... Fae Fucktown thing. She hopes she can avoid mentioning the fucktown part of the whole experience. “What I mean is that the Fae give surprisingly good gifts.”

Spoken casually, because this sort of thing is normal for her.

Okay. That's new. Darling nearly chokes on his whiskey.

"...The...Fae. As in Faeries? The Fair Folk?" His eyes go wide and twinkly, like a child who has just been reassured beyond a doubt that Santa Claus is real. "You've met ACTUAL Fae in your travels? Remarkable! What gifts did they give you?"

Zoey is just a hazard to his drinking, isn’t she. She laughs, watching as his eyes go wide and twinkly, giving him a nod. “The Fair Folk. Met them, was kidnapped by them. Drank in their taverns. Spent a fairly large chunk of time in their realm. A friend told me it’s known as the Feywild, in their world.”

It’s strange; it’s so much easier to be open with the powers given to her by the fae than her own. But they’re not a part of her. They’re a part of her NOW, of course, but they’re not etched into her bones, in her blood, the way being a seer is. “There’s a few. No real rhyme or reason to them, unless I’m missing something. But the first...”

And then, between one breath and the next, her hair colour is changing, blonde bleeding from the roots down to the tips, replacing the black. As though she’s always been a blonde. She smirks. “It’s a parlour trick, but I like it. Any colour, any style. It’s all possible.”

Edited 2021-08-12 11:55 (UTC)

She DEFINITELY is - and that is made further evident by him nearly dropping his glass in surprise as he watches her hair change color. He was already processing the information that she had definitely spent time with Faeries...so watching her change her hair color on command is stunning.

He opts to set the glass down for now.

"Incredible. Incredible! With only a thought?"

OOPS. At least if he dropped his glass she’d be able to catch it for him. She takes a sip of her drink with a sheepish grin. Sorry Dr. Darling.

“With only a thought.” Black bleeds from the roots, replacing the blonde and returning her to her natural hair colour.

"That's...amazing. Truly. I've never seen anything quite like it."

Oh, Darling. You don't know the half of it.

[OPEN] I've been feeling a bit on edge

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