Participants:
| Scene Title | A Mirror and an Echo |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Caught within Pollepel's dome, two seers meet in person for the first time. |
| Date | December 10, 2011 |
The air is still inside of the protective dome that Malcolm has erected to protect the Ferrymen from Heller and his forces. The island is a bundle of emotions and nerves, you could practically smell the fear. The impending deaths that would come. Nobody would say that there wouldn’t be bloodshed before this was all over. And if it really would ever be. All over. There were people tending to the sick, there were people planning for what was to come, there also were people who were singing in trees.
Eve Mas was of that variety and actually the only person doing so. Pale bare feet swing in the air as she sways in the tree not too far up from the ground but enough that her feet don’t touch the ground. Her raven dark locks loose and hang to the small of her back, there are no twigs in them today. Just a lone leaf crooked in the angle that it has landed on Eve’s head. The soft blue material of the dress she wears sits on her comfortably only one tear in the bottom from the climb up.
Barrels and barrels of trouble and fun
How many faces burn from the sun?
Dip ya toes in a river of red, don’t you worry your feet aren’t dead
She balances pale arms on either side of her, nails removing some of the bark. Flecks of it falling to the forest floor. The oracle closes her eyes, turning her head up towards the forcefield above her. A an old messenger bag lays in the crook where the branch meets the tree, she swings a leg up to lay on the thick branch, toes sliding lightly over the fabric of the bag.
There's a slightly watery crunching sound, distinctive — the sound of an apple acquiring new contours as teeth meet through its curve. The blonde who walks out under the trees wears a long-sleeved dark green shirt, gray pants, a light blue scarf wrapped loosely about her throat and its trailing end draped across her arm. One hand holds the apple she's eating; the second holds another.
That second apple is offered up even before Tamara tilts her head back to regard the singer in the tree. "This one's yours, if you want it," she says, in case her companion decides not to open her eyes. Then, follows curiously with: "Are there any birds up there, or did they all fly away?"
As the crunch fills her ears Eve smiles with eyes closed, she can taste the fruit already. She waves a hand up in the air, fingers move like their painting a picture in the air. And as the younger blonde offers up an apple without looking, Eve does the same, reaching down with a pale hand to gently take the fruit. There timing was perfect.
“You know, sometimes the apple just rolls far from the tree.” But they like it to fall not far from the tree. Light gray eyes crack open slowly. Her own watery crunch fills the air as she tears into the apple before rolling over and staring down at the woman. Gray eyes meeting blue. “Thanks.”
“They’ve been silent since the bubble came, it’ll pop though. They always,” as she shimmies down the branch and nabbing her messenger bag with a free hand Eve hops down to the forest floor ending up in a crouch her bare toes wiggling in the dirt. Her head snaps up to look at Tamara with a devilish grin. “Shall we find them?”
Tamara regards the proffered hand, the woman at the other end of it. In some ways, they are a study in contrasts — one dark-haired, fully in her prime; the other blonde, just shy of being completely grown into her features. She smiles, takes another small bite of apple, and answers with a shake of her head. "No," the blonde elaborates aloud, once she can. "Better not to disturb them."
Stepping forward, Tamara links her arm with Eve's, mindful of the messenger bag. "We could go fishing instead," she offers.
“That's fair, they need sleep too.” Birds do deserve rest after a long flight. Eve bites into her apple again and grins as Tamara links her arm with her. “Oh I love to fish. The gold ones are pretty,” another bite out of the gift Tamara gave her and she looks upwards as they walk forward. “You think they like to live in the river though? Out of it is.. a short adventure!” But exhilarating she's sure.. probably more terrifying.
This thought makes Eve’s brow furrow but she shrugs lightly, fish get fished. Bare feet scrap over leaves and small twigs, she hums lightly as they walk through the wood, content for the moment. Her fingers on her free arm twitch a few times as she runs that hand through her mess of dark hair.
The lone leaf finally falls slowly to the ground in their wake, though they are in some ways a strong contrast. The paleness of their skin matches as the link arms.
Tamara casts a sidewise glance at her companion. "Does anyone like to live in the river?" answers question with another question, exchanges literal interpretation for symbolic, and is presented with honest curiosity. Her own relationship with the river is unusual, her perspective skewed. But then, neither of the women are precisely normal.
She guides their progress towards the shoreline of sticky mud and slippery stones, ambling slowly, working her way through most of the apple before finally stopping and releasing Eve. Tamara shucks her own shoes, setting them where they won't get wet, and wades out into the cold water. "There weren't any gold ones here," she says apologetically over one shoulder. Just little drab fingerlings barely different from the mud below and the weeds they dart into for shelter, the occasional hand-sized sliver of a fish with yellow speckles on olive background, its belly gleaming orange.
“Some people like being wet. Some people like to dunk their faces under the surface.” Eve likes to do that, sometimes she just holds herself there, eyes closed. It's quiet in there. As Tamara goes to drop her shoes and wade into the water, Eve drops her belongings near Tamara’s there's a sound of items falling around in her bag. Her feet already bare she tiptoes after the blonde woman.
Apple in hand she continues to bite into it just about finished. Peering down into the water she tilts her head. “Non gold ones are good too.” Eve smiles weakly at the dark water she's in. Her head snaps up, “You're bright!” And from the expression on her face that is a good thing, her free hand idly dances on the water’s surface.
Her gray eyes study the woman, “You're on the same path, two reflections! An echo,” she points to herself, her pale finger then pointing at Tamara, “And a mirror.” This notion causes Eve to grin as she swings that free hand in a half circle back and forth.
“Sister Seer where have you been?”
Standing motionless in the water, waiting for piscine curiosity to overtake startled alarm, Tamara glances over her shoulder at Eve. Raised brows and a bemused expression meet the older woman's exclamations, and the seer tilts her head as she considers how to answer the question posed. "Right here," she says at last — the best answer she can give to what is from her perspective either an unanswerable question, or one with an exceedingly simple answer for so long as the dome stands.
Reply given, Tamara takes another bite of her apple, then pulls a loose bit of crisp flesh from it and drops the tidbit into the water. The bit plops down, bobs up, drifts away on the slow current. "If you stand still," she remarks, "the fish come back out. Do you think they like apple?" The seeming non-response to the speck she dropped implies no — but maybe they're still too scared.
“Me too.” Eve seems satisfied by this answer as she moves her arms through the water slowly the tiny ripples spreading out towards Tamara. “Always here.” Standing in a body of water, floating along the ripples. She spies the flesh of the apple now in the water and Tamara poses her next question, “She who sits in silence knows the goal or she catches a fly in her mouth.”
She crouches a little peering down closer into the water. “They should, maybe they’re picky. Picky picky little ones.” Eve continues to stare down into the watery depths a contemplative expression on her face. She holds her apple loosely in her grip.
She stands there for a time as if waiting for the fish to appear. “They like to hide. Me too sometimes,” She whispers her lips just above the surface of the water. A sidelong glance at her fellow seer and Eve smiles gently, “Maybe they want bread, maybe they just want to sleep too.” Like the birds.
Another bite of apple is consumed while Eve scrutinizes the water. For her part, Tamara drops a couple more pieces in, watches a particularly daring little fish dart up to it and then back again. Others tickle past her ankles, feather-light inquisitive brushes of scales against skin.
"Didn't have any bread this time," is idly spoken, pensive rather than disappointed. "Where did you hide?" is just as idle, mildly curious without pressing; the answer isn't important. It's just conversation.
Eve spies with gray eyes little fish finally at her feet and she grins. “They don't totally mind.” She hopes at least. A few, loose long strands of hair lay in the water splayed out around Eve. As she stands back up straighter they cling to the side of her face but she makes no move to sweep them away.
The question makes the older woman blink and she tilts her head up to the sky. “Many places,” She comments lightly and grins, “The ruins.. The Arc..” this next thought causes her to bite her lip and she leans in closer with a sheepish smile, “My main server.” She taps at her forehead with a long pale finger making an audible thud.
“Where did you hide?”
Little fish dart away from Eve's motion, but not far. One inquisitive fishy soul can be seen to chomp on a tidbit of apple and promptly spit it back out again. Tamara doesn't see it, strictly speaking; she's turned her gaze to her standing companion. Not seeing isn't the same as not noticing, of course.
The ruins elicits a thoughtful blink from the seeress; the arc passes without remark, verbal or otherwise. Asked about hiding, Tamara tilts her head and considers, eating another bite of apple as she does so. The fruit's almost gone. "Not much hiding," she decides at last. "Unless you count in plain sight." She shrugs: that could go either way.
And takes a last bite from her apple.
“I like to hide!” It's exciting for Eve, she doesn't ever really get over the joy at seeing the shock on people’s faces when she just pops out of a hiding place. But there's the other hiding, the kind when she's been on the run. Eve isn't as subtle as Tamara. One woman as loud and impish as she could be, the other a more subdued version of that crazy, both were enigmas. So the notion of hiding in plain sight isn't something she can do easily.
But Eve attempts to and she ponders this as she watches the fish swim idly by. “I like you.” The statement to Tamara though she's peering down at the fish. Satisfied with her observation in the water she straightens before laying back in it.
The cold of the water makes her blink and she moves her arms up and down in the water, her expression serene. Even with the impending storm outside the dome.
“Are you prepared?” There's a shift in her tone. A finger goes to point at the dome in front of them without looking, or well what's beyond the dome.
“When walls crumble, people panic.” A simple truth.
While Eve muses over the water, Tamara contemplates the apple core in her hand as if debating what to do with it. Ultimately, she does nothing: retains her grip on it, lets that hand fall idle at her side. After, she follows the line of Eve's pointing finger, the shimmer of the dome, the implications lurking beyond.
Tamara blinks once, blue gaze flicking to Eve. Then she shakes her head slowly. "What's inside," the seer observes, "was only a third of the picture." She turns her attention outwards once more, gaze going distant. "No more preparations. Now's just the waiting."
A smile follows then, guileless and pleasant, reversion of conversational tone back to prior form. "Don't forget to finish your apple," Tamara directs, as she turns and picks her way back to dry shore.
The older woman closes her eyes at Tamara’s words. No more preparations. There's a flicker of a smile on her wine colored lips and she trails a hand up and down the surface of the water fingertips dancing just beneath the cold water.
Her own gaze goes cloudy with a memory, a firefly that she needs to save. The little boat was already in place, for the quiet getaway for a later date. “Then we are prepared.” Is her answer to Tamara’s musings. She basks in the tide again before slowly rising to her feet. “Things go boom in the dead of night.” But as the mood shifts again so does she without missing a beat,
“Ah ah you're right!” She digs into the last bit the juice dripping down her chin, she eats like a wild animal. No regard for strange noises and movements while eating. It might be that she's comfortable around Tamara that she just is who she is. Untamed but well meaning.
She climbs up out onto the shore and wrings her hair out as she finishes the last of the snack and carries it with her inland. “Thanks for the fruit,” this one wasn't forbidden.
Tamara casts a wave over her shoulder as she picks up her things and, still barefoot, walks in towards the castle: you're welcome.