What's Made of It


elaine_icon.gif sable_icon.gif

Scene Title What's Made of It
Synopsis Elaine and Sable catch each other at odds moments, and discuss their visions, along with some thoughts and at least one plan.
Date June 11, 2010

Gun Hill

The front entrance.

Sable has not seemed well since the day of the blackouts. One might think it's because of what she saw, that she witnessed herself in some place, or doing something, that she never thought she'd be or do, and that the experience left her deeply troubled.

You'd think that, but you'd be wrong.

It's not that she wouldn't tell you if you asked. She's not shy, just remarkably, almost impossibly, quiet. She even keeps her music to her headphones - though that means she almost always has headphones, dissuading anyone from trying to talk to her. And she's not isolating herself on her off hours, she just tends to take whatever jobs around the place only need one person. She doesn't seem shattered, but she does seem awfully… not herself. And she's taken to wearing a black bandana around her arm. Which is weird. But if you listened to try and hear the music she was listening to, you'd hear the gentle, joyful sounds of the Allman Brother's Band, or the longing lilt of more punk-rocking country. Which isn't particularly miserable music.

She's just now scrubbing some mildew, on hands and knees, with a hard bristle brush, rubber gloves, and a bucket of water, soap, and a dash of bleach.

Elaine had been out a lot since the blackouts. Back and forth, she'd either be locked up on the bedroom or off walking somewhere out in the streets of New York in the cold. It wasn't uncommon for her to come back, nose and cheeks pink from the cold, hands stuffed in jacket pockets.

Which is exactly where she's coming from now. Shutting the door behind her, Elaine emerges, rubbing practically numb fingers as she looks about. Perhaps she notes Sable's presence, perhaps not, but either way, she choose not to interrupt the intense mildew-scrubbing.

Sable is listening very hard to a song that backs her head bob back and forth. She looks like she's enjoying what she's doing, but that she's really not so concentrating on scrubbing, but rather being able to concentrate because of her scrubbing. Semi-meditative. But, as luck would have it, Elaine's entrance coincides with the gap between tracks, and the yellow eyed girls looks up and around at Elaine, stirred from her chorish revery. She gives Elaine a smile, a fond one, and tugs down her earphones. "Hey, you."

She'd been caught! Elaine glances over, returning the smile, albeit a bit more weakly than usual. "Hey. Decided the whole place needed scrubbing? Can't argue with your rational there. Kinda did need some cleaning. Maybe I'll do some of that myself, I suppose there's quite a bit that could still be done… toilets, I'm sure, are pretty gross come to think of it." She rambles off. "Anyhow, don't let me interrupt your cleanin', you sure look intent…"

Sable's eyes instantly narrow. She knows nervous talking when she hears it. She does that too sometimes. She knows what it feels like to stand there and go and on. So she's sympathetic. But boy is she curious. "Hon," she says, "I'm gonna cutcha off there," her t's are still pronounced with more than usual delicacy, because of the wound to her tongue, "If y' really want not t' tell me whatcha feel so guilty 'bout, y' don't hafta. But, should you wanna tell me, know this: my word is my bond 'n' I'd swear upon the ghost of Hendrix not to speak a word of it unless you expressly permit otherwise."

Caught again! Elaine takes a moment, wetting her lips before she moves, sitting down directly on the floor. She leans forward a bit, wets her lips, then pauses, before she speaks. "That whole.. thing with the everyone blacking out and stuff. What.. exactly do you make of it?"

Sable gives a small snort, "I'm still tryin' t' make any goddamn sense of it going from Ice Age to Indian fuckin' summer in a week," she says, "This place doesn't make the tiniest bit of sense. And I've got as much sense m'self, as though I know I should get the hell out 'f this place, I'm too curious to leave," she pulls a smile up for Elaine, "So you tell me, hon. What d'you fear it all portends?"

Pulling her knees to her chest, Elaine shakes her head a little bit. "You know, it's kinda weird, the order of things happening. Cause, if I had this.. image in my head, after the blackout? I could just write it off as PTSD or something. You know, crazy stuff causing crazy stuff. I mean, I wake up and there's a car, /right freaking there/. All wrapped around a pole, like you see on those pictures that you stare at on the internet and go 'Whoa they must've photoshopped that'. So that was scary. But you know what? What I don't get is what the hell the whole blacking out was. Cause, y'know, if that was someone's idea of a sick joke they can rot in the worst hell imaginable, that's what. S'not the kind of thing to mess around with, people's heads.."

Sable gives a snicker, though it's entirely good natured. "Y'put that so very much like y'would," she says, making matters no clearer, "'n' I think well of y' for it. 'n' sure, I figure some folks saw some frightenin' stuff. Jesus, Colette rode right outta here while I was still figurin' out where I was again. But it ain't all of it awful. What I saw… well," she lifts a brow, "Mebbe I'll tell you, if y' tell me what y' saw first. How's that f'r a deal?"

That's the part where it starts to get tricky. "Maybe it's like.. a nightmare, you know? A fear or something.. someone's power set it off? Maybe it's different for everyone, not necessarily something they're afraid of, but just like.. something subconscious that they didn't even realize was there or that they were thinking about but it was just there under the surface.." Elaine muses, nervous mouth-running not failing her now. She wets her lips. Nervous habit, too.

"It doesn't sound too bad, now that I'm trying to think how to phrase it. Not so bad.." She trails off for a second, glancing around for a moment before she starts. "I think I was kidnapped, grabbed or hostage or something, cause the guy mentioned he'd let me go.. couldn't see my hands, so I couldn't see if I was tied up or anything, but we were there.. the expressway that connects Brooklyn and Queens, y'know, the bridge? There was all this smoke, this fire, over in Queens. Could see it."

A pause. "Guy had a trigger in his hand, right in front of me. A bomb right there. All the people trying to get out of Queens.. they'd all die in an explosion, right there. This guy.. he seemed scared too. He was sorry I had to watch. He didn't seem like he wanted to hurt me, but he was so willing to blow everyone up. He said he had a cause, he had to do it for his cause… like if he didn't do it, then it'd all be wrong and it was all his fault. I kept talking to him, trying to convince him. I tried all sorts of stuff.. I was sure I was doing bad, I wasn't even really convincing myself.

"Anyway, he said I'd be the only one who knew it was him. I swore he was going to do it, and then he turns it off. Turns it off and throws it off the island and into the water. Wanted me to remember that he didn't do it.. poor guy. I felt bad for him, even in the midst of all of it. He didn't want to. He wasn't sure. Told me to forget everything else, but to remember that he didn't go down as a murderer."

It was all a story until then, and now Elaine's hugging her knees tighter. "But /Jesus Christ/… did they have to go and make it a fucking bomb? Of all the nightmares to shove in my face, I talked someone down from a bomb. A fricking bomb? You know what happened last time me and bombs were in the same sentence? Blew up my whole frickin' life!"

"Sounds like a goddamn movie," Sable says, wrinkling her nose, "All that dramatic, bomb related shit. 'course, I guess, lots of dreams have parts that feel like movies. 'cept usually…" the girl shakes her head, "Sorry, gettin' off topic there. Uh… right. I dunno, gal, that's awful… but at least it was excitin'. I mean, you saved the fuckin' day, right? I count that as a win, dream-wise. Better th'n havin' a dream about some lovely thing and getting almost there and just wakin' up, and tryin' to trick yourself back into sleep again."

Sable peels off her gloves, and scoots over beside Elaine, wrapping her arms around her in a guyish kind of way. Comforting, but more sympathy and well meaning than empathy. "It's weird shit, sure. But it's over. 'n' yer alive 'n' well." The yellow eyed girl makes a face, "I lost something precious to me yesterday. But that shit's over. Gotta take it as a sign. Take the good in what you saw, and treat it like an omen. Best way to make sense of the world, by makin' your own sense."

Elaine leans in against Sable, letting out a slow breath, almost a sigh. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it's kinda.. just something I need to learn from and get over. A healing process. I dunno, maybe it is a sign? I stopped a bomb this time, and the bomb that went off before? Took everything I had, but I'm making a new life, so I guess that's kinda like stopping it from having power over me, in a way. I just.. y'know, it doesn't take the bad feelings away, just cause it was a happy ending. Still feel like I'm on edge, waiting for a bomb to go off." She tilts her head, looking up at Sable. "What'd you lose?"

"That all sounds extremely fuckin' healthy," Sable says, with a sage nod, "I hope some day I ain't too fucked up t' think the same way." With the lean, Sable manages to be a little better about the hug. Her grip loosens, but grows no less. She's just more relaxed about it. "Oh… well," she says, and one can tell from her voice that she's trying to stay cool about it, despite some underlying feelings, "My acoustic guitar, Adelaide. Which… I know mebbe don't sound like much t' you, but it was my first. 'n' y'know how big firsts are, eh?" She gives a crooked smile, pointing to the ambiguity as a sort of joke.

"Geeze, Sable.. that's.. a big thing. You don't name something unless it really /means/ something to you, and it was your first." Elaine shakes her head. "No, sounds like a lot to me, that's a huge thing. Did.. I mean, what happened to it? Was it wrecked or destroyed or did someone take it or something?"

"Fuckin' dropped it," Sable says, making a face, "When I blacked out. Dropped it from the goddamn fire stairs. Tryin' to get Quinn t' the roof without havin' her barge through all the Ferry stuff. Didn't wanna get in trouble, nor anyone who'd be considered responsible f'r me." Meaning Colette, pretty much. If Doyle got in trouble, Sable wouldn't feel so sore, really. "I got what's left of her up in m' room, in a bed sheet. Tryin' t' think 'f how best to give 'er a send off. So far, I'm leanin' t'ward viking burial."

"Mm.. viking burial. That's a right good way to go, if you ask me." Elaine moves, hugging Sable back, gently. "I'm sorry you lost her. She was good to you though, yeah? But you're right. Could be a sign. Y'can move on from all the bits with the firsts and stuff, and make your way towards something better. Y'can find something new and wear it down until it knows the way your hands hold it and it feels like home, I think." She pauses. "But even if it's a sign, I know it don't make the bad feelings go away. You're pretty good at staying strong, Sable, but it meant something to you and no matter how strong you are, hurt is still hurt."

"Well, 'f fuckin' course it hurt. Hurts me real bad right now!" Sable exclaims, giving a sniff of indignation, not at her, but at the hurt itself, "'n' so the only way I can redeem this shit as a sign, is t' make of that sufferin' something entirely fuckin' other. Something where pain ain't so bad anymore, since it's for a goddamn good reason, rather than weepin' over a fuckin' broken guitar." She fixes Elaine with a level look. "I recall y' said, some nights back when we went out t' paint the town 'n' all… somethin' about helpin' me get a job?" This seems, on its face, to be a stark non sequitur.

There's a bit of a laugh. "Yeah. I did, y'know? Got a job.. this guy collects things, like antiques and shit, and wanted me to do some translating on them. Important stuff.. he's got a whole foundation, charitable type thing I think, but I figure if it's big he's got to have some openings." Elaine comments, looking back over. "Maybe I can get you an interview with someone? Put in a good word that you're reliable and a hard worker. Cause, y'know, you are, so it's not like I'd be lying." She grins.

Sable's arms slide back down to her sides - from the sound of Elaine's laugh, they've helped do their part. "Well, I dunno," she says, "I don't tend to stick to many jobs that don't involve, music, y'know? Most other places are all run by mini-fuckin'-fascists. But… I dunno. I'm doin' it for a reason. Mebbe I could stick it out, if lets me do what I wanna do."

"Well, big foundations have all sorts of charities, right? Maybe there's one with something related to music or something. I'll look and see what I can find for you, either way." Elaine gives a little bit more of a grin. "And now that I'm making money.. I can always pay you for guitar lessons. I kinda feel guilty not being all musically inclined like the lot of you. Would be fun to just know enough to jam, you know? I'm not sure I'd be terribly good beyond that. Singing, I might be okay at, but guitar?"

Sable arches her brow. She's suddenly struck with an idea. "Yer good with accents and all, right? I mean, I know you are. But what I'm wonderin' is, if you felt up to it, wouldja be able t' sing a song in a foreign language? Say… I dunno. French? Or Italian, like in an opera?" She adds a squint to her gaze, "Wouldja sing somethin' for me now, lemme get a sense of it?"

Elaine looks delighted at the idea. "Yeah, I mean, accents are kinda a hobby on top of my ability.. so yeah, other languages I can do. Not sure if I've got the lungs for opera, but I do know a song in French.. /and/ I think I've got the accent down perfect." She clears her throat a little, feeling slightly awkward, but proceeds to launch into a song in perfect French, the tone soft and sweet.

Sable listens with a rapt intensity that combines the best of critical attention and true musical pleasure. No wonder she wants to do this for a living. She leans forward, and lets her eyes close. She's either imagining something, or clearing her mind entirely. Maybe both, though in no certain order. When Elaine's song ends, her eyes open, and she nods, "I need y' f'r somethin'," she says, then cracks a smile, "I'm just askin' all sorts of favors of you today. Don't you be afraid t' ask f'r somethin' back, now."

"Yeah? I don't mind it. Actually, you already did me a favor just by listening to me rant. Hadn't really let it all out after the blackout and stuff. Just kinda.. kept quiet. So.. thanks for bein' an ear for that." Elaine turns to her expectantly. "So.. whatcha need?"

Sable puts an arm around Elaine again, though this time is so she can lean in and speak in a theatrically conspiratorial manner. She even looks around - makes sure no one's listening in. "I need t' record something. A song. With you singin' on it. Just one song. 'n' you gotta sound just as pure 'n' lovely as you just did."

Oooh, co-conspirators. Elaine looks elated. "One song, mmkay. But now you got me all curious. What sort of song, what language?" She grins and offers a wink. "It's a /love/ song, isn't it?"

Sable shakes her head, "Naw, hon. Fair guess, but naw. It's not a love song. It's a loved song. Which makes all the fuckin' difference." She taps the side of her nose, "Y' know a tune called 'La Mer'?"

"That always helps." Elaine muses, rubbing her chin. "'La Mer', hmm.. I think I know which one you're talking about." She looks suspicious. "Now I'm /really/ curious. What's it for?"

"I won't know 'til it's done," Sable says. She's not being cryptic for cryptic's sake. This is the honest truth.

"I suppose that's enough." Elaine murmurs, thinking on the song for a moment. "Yeah, I'll do it. I'm sure you'll find something great to use it for." She gives a small nod, letting the song simply sink into her head in silence.

"Thanks, hon!" Sable says, ruffling Elaine's hair with a hand, and rising to her feet. She stoops to pick up her gloves and starts to don them again. "Back t' fuckin' work…" she starts to apply soapy water and bleach to her scrub brush, when she suddenly remembers something. She turns to look at Elaine over her shoulder. "What I saw, y'know? My, like, vision? Some blonde chick givin' me a fuckin' hound dog to take care of," she grins, "Go fuckin' figure, huh?"

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