Somebody knows, somebody's seen. Somebody knows right where you've been.

[sarkraticmethod]

Sark is in a tree.

Yes, you read that right. This would make a great deal of sense if he were a ferret and some sense if he were a tiger, but, at the present moment, he is a person. In a tree.

No, he really doesn't want to talk about it, but he suspects he's going to have to. Apparently, he was taking a walk through the park, contemplating whimsy

Comments

[gotbottle]

Rachel opens her mouth, ready to insist that he call her Rachel, not "Ms. Conway". But something about him seems to suggest that formality's more welcome. Maybe it's the fact that he is or at least sounds British--that almost seems to suggest better manners and higher regards to her, on top of the fact that his word choice in what should be a casual conversation is so polite and formal. And he's so, so young--younger than her, by at least a few years--and yet he carries himself with the air of someone who's seen too much, maybe even done too much. He seems to just have an air of civility and seriousness about himself, almost wearing it.

Maybe he needs it.

Rachel smiles, and instead murmurs, "Mr. Sark." And then her eyes light a bit, a relieved smile turning her lips at being spared the usual what-do-I-say, how-do-I-ask, don't-give-too-much-away song and dance that most new meetings have had for her.

"I did, yeah," she tells him, nodding. "Been here..." She purses her lips, thinking. "Two months, now? Not long. I went to bed at home in New York and woke up in Grant Park, sitting on the statue of Abraham Lincoln. So, like, when walked by and saw you up in that tree?"

She gestures up at the branches above them. "I was totally worried you just got here, and, like, the Rift had spat you up into that tree or something. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I know... I know arriving here totally sucks."

[sarkraticmethod]

Something plays on the corner of his lips- either a smile or a vague twitch or one that looks like the other. "I arrived here a year ago... In a sewer, if I remember correctly." Yeah, he knows about unfortunate entrances into this world and he'd be hesitant to admit it, but... It was a year ago. There was a sewer. It's over now.

Just, uh, don't ask him what he did as soon as he got out of that sewer. That's something that he'd really, really rather not discuss.

"I don't think it's let up on the unfortunate circumstances since, but perhaps my lifestyle just invites that sort of torment." Hah. Lifestyle. And lifestyle he doesn't so much mean 'evil' as... Well, whatever the hell he is now. Maybe the Rift resents his recent changes of heart. Or something.

[gotbottle]

Rachel blinks at Sark, and then frowns. "Oh, man. And I thought I won the 'your arrival totally sucked and was mortifying' sweepstakes. I'm sorry, Mr. Sark. But, hey, over now, right?"

She shifts her weight to her other foot a bit awkwardly, trying not to think of the implications of Sark's suggestion. Perhaps my lifestyle just invites that sort of torment.

Rachel, you see, can't quite shake the suspicion that this is possibly some sort of torment, or punishment. That her lifestyle invited--

No, no. Stop. She shakes her head slightly to clear it. It wouldn't do any good to get herself all wound up over that, not now.

"So... you think maybe the Rift still has an effect on you, even though you're already spat out and dropped here in Chicago? Does it?"

[sarkraticmethod]

"It might just be bad luck," he shrugs, not so much looking at her as he's looking at a space over her shoulder. There's nothing there, but sometimes he really, really doesn't want to look people in the eyes when he's talking to them. It would be annoying if his piercing, wide-eyed stare wasn't so unsettling to a lot of people.

"I'm certain I haven't had it any worse than anyone else, but sometimes it feels that way. Chicago doesn't make for the most... Desirable of circumstances, I must admit."

And now he's probably scaring the poor girl. Well... He's jaded. And in a year, this, right now, is about the best his life has been, and, well, it's not all that great.

[gotbottle]

"I keep hearing that, yeah," Rachel replies, glad for the minor change in subject. She can tell he's not looking her in the eye, but it doesn't bother her--especially not considering that momentary discomfort she's working on quashing. "I keep hoping I'll avoid my share, but that doesn't sound damn likely. Still. I'm sorry you've had to go through so much."

Everyone she's talked to tells her Chicago makes a wreck of peoples' lives, and is a tumultuous place to be. It's highly likely her hope that she'll live a normal life is just wishful thinking, but she can't help it. It's all she's got to cling to, now.

"I don't remember seeing you at the Conrad, though I admit, I haven't come out of my room to socialize much." She eyes him, as if hoping for a hint that life does, in fact, go on. "Did you move out?"

[sarkraticmethod]

He stops focusing on that point above her shoulder and actually looks at her. For all that his expression is neutral and his physical bearing completely devoid of any tells, the mention of the Conrad always makes him feel a little twitchy.

"Yes. I have my own flat, although, honestly, I've been staying at the Kashtta Tower ever since the CLF became a threat. There were... Mild concerns that an apartment complex that caters specifically to wanderers and the like would be a susceptible target."

Although as it's still standing, he really doubts that the fears were all that justified, but he's convinced himself that the day he moves back in before the CLF is completely done away with is the day the whole building burns.

[gotbottle]

Rachel's a bit startled when Sark finally fixes his gaze on her. Not because of anything he's done or said, far from it. It's just those eyes.

She smiles, though, shrugging slightly. "That's nice, that you were able to move out. I'd like to, too. I mean, it's nice enough, and everyone's been super helpful... but I just don't like having people do stuff for me, you know? I'm not a charity case. I need to do things for myself."

Where "need to do things for myself" actually means "My chip on my shoulder, big as I am, about self-reliance. Let me show you it."

The smile holds, but she shifts her weight to her other foot, giving herself away. "I've heard of those guys. The CLF. I hope I never run into them. I don't understand how they can do what they do. It's wrong."

[sarkraticmethod]

"Admittedly, I had to accept a certain amount of charity to obtain my flat." He tries so hard not to grimace, but he can't hold the full emotion back and there's a slight twitch in his jawline and his eyes go a bit dark for a second. "However, as the woman, in question, was... Something of a mother to me, it didn't feel as much like charity." Ariel being a mother figure much, much different than Irina, but one all the same. "Normally, however, I understand the need for self-reliance. It's hard to come by here, but not impossible."

He swallows and once again tries to keep the disdain and hurt out of his facial expressions. He's done morally reprehensible things- things he still shows no remorse for- but this is utterly ridiculous. "Indeed. Pray you don't, Ms. Conway. They're the worst parts of humanity."

And he should know that, because he's part of that low totem pole, according to some people, but at least he's above slime like that.

[gotbottle]

Rachel offers Sark a sympathetic nod. "It's okay," she assures him. "That's a little bit different. Help from family, not, like, outright charity, y'know? And it's still a step in the right direction. Being where I am now..." She sighs, and her weight shifts yet again. "I don't know. I don't mean to be ungrateful, because I'm totally not, but... I feel like a refugee, not a citizen. I can't have my life back--I can't go home. I'd at least like a shot at my own life here, then, as a consolation prize."

Rachel glances at his face, and then sighs again, eyerolling slightly. "...Sorry. Oversharing. Bad habit. Sorry. One way or another, I always talk too much."

She thinks over what he's said, biting the inside of her cheek. "They don't have the right," she settles on, finally. "Just because we're different. S'funny... we were starting to have the same problems back home. Guess some forms of stupidity and discrimination are universal."

[sarkraticmethod]

If Sark were the sympathetic, sharing sort, he'd probably be explaining how he totally understands that and maybe they should get together and braid each others' hair and talk about why the Rift sucks or whatever it is that normal people do when they find kindred spirits. He'd like to wager that it isn't quote poetry at them.

As it is, he just sort of stands there, wondering if normal people usually share that much in conversations with total strangers.

"It's quite all right," he murmurs, not really saying anything more on the subject. At the last, he quirks an eyebrow, "The same problems...?"

Well, discrimination and hate crimes are certainly nothing new, but if it was anything like this, then clearly she has to be from a world where some of this, anyway, was normal. That's one of the few parts of this whole annoying universe that he likes- the concept of other universes does, honestly, appeal to him a bit.

[gotbottle]

"Hmm?" Rachel blinks, and then nods, taking the prompt and running with it. "Yeah. The same problems. There was, like. This Senator. He said people like us were threats, that we needed to be identified and controlled and all kinds of crazy stuff. He wanted a registration act, even! And, I mean, okay, yeah. Some of us could be, if we didn't have control over ourselves. But creating an atmosphere of hate and fear and mistrust is not the way to fix that problem. People needed help. Guidance. Not jail cells and being publicly named as different. It's not like anybody can help that. It's genetic."

Oh, Rachel. In all your trusting random strangers, and in all your righteous indignation at the things that were starting to happen at home, you don't think about how much you're revealing, do you? Like the fact that you were different before you ever fell through the Rift.

"I was worried that, you know, crap like what's going on here was bound to happen, the way things were going back there."

[sarkraticmethod]

Uh.

Okay then.

Sark wasn't sure what kind of answer he was expecting, but a detailed analysis on her universe's current political status wasn't one of them. He blinks at her for a few seconds and hopes, for her sake, that she doesn't earn the ire or interest of anyone like he used to be, because... That could end badly.

"I... Don't imagine it will get quite that bad," he says slowly, like he was going to say something else and nicer words came out instead.

[gotbottle]

"Yeah?"

She actually looks relieved at that, bless.

"Okay, good. I just... I so didn't like the direction things were headed, before. I don't want to see that happening again."

Rachel watches Sark for a few long moments, as if weighing a decision. Finally, she chances, "...So, Mr. Sark... May I ask you a question? And you totally don't have to answer, you can, like, tell me it's none of my business and I won't be upset or offended, like at all. I just..."

She takes half a step closer and lowers her voice. "I haven't really met any other Wanderers. So I don't know if what happened to me is normal. Did you... did you change, after you came through? Was something different?"

[sarkraticmethod]

Sark tenses. Questions, admittedly, bug him, and he's all for just planning on telling her no before she even asks the damn thing, because he's expecting it to be something he doesn't want to answer, but when he realizes what the question is, he relaxes. That's common knowledge, especially if he gets twitchy and one of his shaoeshifter forms acts up. Hell, he was 'lucky' enough to get changed twice.

"And here I thought explaining that was part of the initiation process," he muses. That... Is a yes. Apparently.

[gotbottle]

"I didn't get an initiation," Rachel says miserably. "Just the hazing, on Honest Abe's lap."

She glances around, as if making sure no one's paying them any attention, and when she speaks again, her voice is even lower. "I think... Mr. Sark, I think something broke with me when I came through, and I don't know how to make it right. I didn't know if it was just me, or what... so it's... Does the Rift do something to everyone, then?"

Somehow, not feeling singled out might make her feel a little better.

Just a little.

[sarkraticmethod]

"No, it does that to everyone." He arches an eyebrow at the broke comment- well, if she came from a universe where this was normal, it could have easily taken something away from her. It wouldn't be the first time it happened. He decides to be nice enough to not press, because he has a feeling she'll tell him.

"Sometimes twice," he adds, somewhat cryptically, because the girl doesn't have enough stress in her life without saying things like that to her.