Participants:
| Scene Title | A Simple Flick |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | After finding a scrambled message in two different places, Samara goes to Pollepel Island |
| Date | November 12, 2010 |
Three days.
Three long days since the end of the world. Residue is still left behind, the sun is still dimmed slightly by the massive amounts of smoke that spread up into the sky. The war is done, but the aftermath is proving to be quite complicated. The world was supposed to end a few times before. But after every climax, every showdown, life went on more or less the same. Balance remained, whether life was a little harder or easier, most things remained the same. But this time.. This time, situations actually force a change. He can't take his kids back to the Lighthouse. He can't wander the city freely anymore. Freedom is actually severely limited now. Is this what they've been fighting all this time, actually coming true? And will fighting actually help?
Sitting on top of a rock, Brian's feet soak in the chilly water. His back declined slightly with his hands supporting him on other rocks. Trees and a giant castle is most of what their new temporary home has to offer, that and very crowded personal space. Winters leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. Letting out a light sigh, he glances over to his side. Wearing a light tan jacket and a pair of jeans the young man reaches over to grasp the backpack laying near him. Placing the backpack into his lap he sighs quietly.
Water displaces in circling ripples along the water as the reflected images of the young woman appears along its otherwise plain canvas. The ripples blur the image, shimmering together in colours of an image discernible only within the refracted light. She'd woken up to an odd amount of joy, but the joy had faded as she'd wandered the city. For three days she'd floated and rested, waking up for awhile only to drift into that sleep again. Samara had started by heading to Rue's apartment the half message from Brian left her perplexed, but she knew well enough to visit his apartment after. The two word parts that were relatively useless on their own brought her here, to this island.
She stares openly at him, her eyes droop unusually, but Brian is shot the slightest reassurance of a smile; she found the message. Carefully she sits on one of the rocks before displacing a little bit of the water to give him the smallest splash and another flicker of a smile, following which her knees are drawn into her chest and tightly hugged.
The water flicks against his bare ankle. Bringing Brian's attention forward to look at the water. A large smile spreads across his lips as her reflection rests down there. Funny, that a person he's never technically 'spoken' with could bring such a feeling of relief and pleasure. He smiles warmly at her reflection, glancing up to where he figures she would be if she was tangible. Trying to make what he might imagine is eye contact. But it is merely looking at a tree a ways down. He glances back to the reflection. 'Hi'. He mouths.
Instinctively imitating, Brian pulls up his own knees to his chest. Settling his chin on top of one knee, he watches the water for a moment. Lowering his hand, he splashes back lightly at the ghost.
The attempted eye contact actually brings a warmth to her smile, a more distinct curl of her lips, complete with a single dimple. Samara's gaze lingers there a moment, attempting eye contact she can't quite have, even with Brian's much-appreciated effort. 'Hi.' She mouths back.
It's her turn to mirror him as her chin rests on her knee. She lets the quiet of the moment wash over her. After all of the noise she'd experienced thanks tot he rioting that she had walked, drifted, and even slept through. Her pointer finger lifts to her eyes before she creates a curly 'c'-shape with her hand and then points at him. 'I see you,' she mouths with a small shrug while resettling on the rock.
The smile softens, becoming distinctly more reflective in form and function. And in that reflective state she watches him. She manages some more very minor signing. 'R U O-K?' The smile fades a little; if she's honest, she's not as okay as she wants to believe. She rests her elbows on her knees and cups her chin in her hands, like the sculpture The Thinker.
"I'm glad you found me." He murmurs quietly in response to her c-ing him. "I was kind of worried about you after you.. blew away." Not like anything really bad could happen to her. But still. It must have not been fun wandering through the warzone alone. He looks up, over his shoulder. "Welcome to Pollepel island." He gestures to the island shrouded in darkness. "I'm not actually supposed to be out in the open like this. I just wanted to put my feet in the water a little bit. Maybe look for you." He smiles gently, raising his foot to smash into her reflection momentarily. "We're staying in a castle. You can come pretend to be a princess."
"I'm fine. Are you okay?" Again, copying her position he gets into his own Thinker stance. "Rue is here. In the castle. So is Kasha."He looks to her moonlit reflection, and then back to where she should be again. "Rue doesn't think your dead by the way. She has an ability. She's registered for it. And I know if we could get you tangible, you would test positive as an evolved too. I know it didn't work before but.. That's progress. If you can just.. do it."
Samara tosses her hair over her shoulder at the notion of pretending to be a princess, her eyebrows arching specifically at the word pretend like she's some kind of diva; she's not, but then sometimes it's fun to pretend. The smash in her reflection smudges the lines of her form together like an impressionist painting, the image of some unknown lady in the water. Of course, when the ripples settle, she's somewhat more concrete again.
The question has her shrugging her shoulders as one side of her lips curls upward. She arches a single eyebrow. She reaches out a single hand to wave it back and forth, 'Okay-ish' she mouths. Or as okay as can be expected. Her eyebrows knit together momentarily but soften at the mention of her friend. Instinctively, she turns around to face the building like she magically expects Rue to be standing right there. Like it or not, the spectre had worried. She turns back to the water and sighs heavily, a deep-set sigh complete with slumped shoulders. Relief. Hands rub her face like she's wiping away the stress of said-worry.
She frowns at the continued insistence she's not dead. Exasperated, she rests her elbows on her knees again and then her chin in her hands. The word she mouths is easy to see, 'How?' She'd slept for days (off and on) after that last attempt. Floated around the city, waking places she ought not be, and all around scaring the locals.
"Don't be mad at me." He petitions, with a somewhat tiny whine in his inflection. Leaning forward, he frowns at the mirror. "I'm not trying to make you upset. I just care about you and…" He trails off as he registers what he just said. He cares about the girl that follows him in mirrors? Deciding that it's fine, "I just care about you and I think you could have a better quality off life. So I'm trying to push you because I care about for you not because…" Not really sure what the other motive would be he just trails off.
"We don't have to talk about it. We can talk about something else…" He pauses for a split-second. "OH WAIT WE CAN'T BECAUSE YOU CAN'T TALK!" The voice is mostly meant as a joke, as he starts laughing a little bit at himself after the delivery. But then glancing across the shore he frowns. "I probably shouldn't be yelling when we're hiding from the government for fear of certain death."
Samara's eyes narrow with mild skepticism at the words while her fingers press against her lips — curtaining across them and concealing that expression as best she can. There's no denying she truly believes she died, but Brian's adamant insistence the other way is, at least confusing, if not somewhat persuasive. But then what kind of life would there be for someone like her? She hasn't been able to return to a corporeal form for four years; if this is her reality, what would it mean to grow up or old? Again, she sighs.
The weariness melts away at the joke, even if it's too loud a delivery. Her shoulders bob with a suppressed giggle; the communication thing has become quite the challenge, although all things considered, she thinks she does okay. Even if her name is permanently Sam-Eye.
She reaches into the water again, her fingers displacing it in tiny ripples as she flecks it towards him. Her grin turns mildly mischievous as she reaches up towards her lips and pretends to smoke an invisible cigarette. The note is slightly teasing. No cigarettes to pull Brian through today.
Smiling into the reflection as she laughs as well. Then she starts smoking and his features fold up into mock resentment. Before his brows peak up, "Oh yeah! I got you something." Reaching into his backpack, he shuffles around for a moment before gasping a large and dramatic breath as if she's going to love it.
Pulling out nothing but his middle finger he gives a huge gsp of breath. "Ohhh my gooosh. Do you love it?!" He practically squeals the last few words. Playing along perfectly with the charade, he even acts a little coy. Embarrassed to be giving her a gift of such magnitude. Looking over at where she should be, he swings his hand over to her so that she can accept his gracios gift. "For you." He smiles sweetly.
And then to further cement his alpha male dominance in teasing he springs up after his flesh and stomps down into her reflection. Splish splash sploish. "Whatya gonn' do ghostface?!" Going to jump back to the shore, he takes a very unfortunate step and happens to trip face first into the water and rocks.
Intrigue rules the notion at getting something. What can be got for someone who is there but not? There's the smallest flicker of a smile, present, but quickly suppressed at the gesture. She purses her lips into a quick frown before heightening her personal theatrics. A hand raises to Sami's chest at being flipped off. Her chin and jaw drop dramatically in mock horror and shock like she's never been flipped off in her life. Or afterlife. Whatever. With the sweet smile, however, her entire posture changes, she counters with one of her own, complete with innocent dimples, and the dreaded double deuce. This is one piece of sign language Samara can't screw up.
The splashing causes severe dispersement of her image, and a rather attention getting stomp in the water — like a child who has stamped her foot. Strangely, the motion actually makes a large splash — bigger than anything she's created in recent memory. But the anger is mocking, in-genuine, a total farce. Such that when he falls, she actually winces and stifles a snicker by pressing those fingers over her lips.
She floats over to him and crouches down near his face, instinctively, and thanks to her intangibility rather uselessly, reaching out a hand to help him up.
Facing the water as he pushes up, he smirks down at the hand reached out to him.
Going to his knees, he reaches out and with all his concentration tries to make eye contact with nothing and grab at where the hand should be. She's going to have to help him, but he's trying. Once her hand is 'taken' he stands up quickly, now sopping wet. "You made a big splash." He notes with a little smile as he makes his way for the shore.
"Listen, Sam-eye. Stop playing around so we can talk about serious things." He looks over his shoulder. "Oh could you grab my backpack?" OH WAIT. He pauses with a grin, dancing back to grab his backpack. Slinging it over his shoulder, he joins Samara again. Or at least assumes he's joining her. "There's a big meeting coming up with these guys. They protect people who have abilities. They are good people. I've kind of worked with them in the past, but I'm going to ask to join them officially tonight. If you're going to stay here, with Rue, and me, and all of us. I'm going to have to introduce you. A bunch of these people have abilities, and it wouldn't be fair to not let them know there's an extra pair of eyes. And plus! Maybe someone could use your help. Maybe that's your unffirmered burmierr.. or unfinished business. You need to work on your s's by the way." Continuing to talk, he splays his hands out as he communicates. "I'm not going to introduce you as a ghost. You can tell them all that, but I don't want them to look at me crazy. Abilities are accepted. Ghosts. Eh… Okay?"
Samara completes that eye contact, even if Brian will never know its success. Her smile fades slightly at her non-hand in the air. With a heavy sigh she shakes her head at herself, some old habits die hard. Maybe that's why she hasn't crossed over. Her lips press into a smile, however at the notion of having made a big splash; it's like her party trick: the nothing makes water move. Cue the crowd: Oooooo, Ahhhhhh. She shrugs like it's no big deal, but even then a secret delight brightens her eyes.
There's a curious tilt of her head and the distinct knitting of eyebrows at the notion of these people who look out for evolved. That's what she's been doing with Rue for so long — looking out for haters and giving warning when warranted. She nods at the question, although she shrugs at the notion of not being introduced as a ghost followed by a finger constructed 'W,' the valley girl sign for 'whatever,' but she's still smiling, it's another joke; she gets it, he doesn't believe in ghosts.
A grin at the W has him pulling up the princess handmirror out of his backpack. Keeping it in front of him he continues to converse with his companion. "You know, you're pretty cute. But I bet, I bet you, when you become tangible you'll have like this super deep frog-man voice." He smirks a little, doing a deep guttural low throaty frog voice. "I am Sam-Eye. Hello. I can't do sign language how are yoooou?" Grinning at her. "Like that."
"Do you get tired when you run?" He asks, randomly. Brian asks, arching a brow at her reflectionface.
Samara's cheeks flush a pale pink at the compliment but she playfully tries to slap him girlishly — only to have her hand disappear through him for a few quick moments — she keeps forgetting she's dead lately. Her hands are then promptly shoved into her jean pockets as she falls into step with him. With a small shake of her head, she refutes the evidence, yet a smile remains on her lips almost saying, 'I'll never tell.' To further accent her point, a single finger is pressed across her lips like it's some grand secret.
There's a wrinkle of her nose at the question, but she shakes her head. No, she doesn't get tired when she runs; only when she really tries to interact with the corporeal world.
