002; rebuilding the temple of artemis

[kneebruises]

Characters: KNEEBRUISES & OPEN
Date: 6th April | Early evening.
Summary: Sasha being not-so-paranoid at The Arcade.
Warnings: Yes, possibly cursing and maybe some gory memories.

Comments

[freemade_grace]

Naps spaced throughout the day make up Jill's sleeping schedule, preferably sitting up and with her back to a wall, but the Gardens are making her lazy. It's unnaturally safe, and she finds it's better when everyone's upset or things are going wrong, because it's familiar, she can take charge of things that go wrong. This...it's been so long since responsibility hasn't been a concern, she doesn't have to make decisions. It's humbling, almost. Almost. No matter what they tell her, she will still stand tall, Lady Half-a-Prayer.

She walks, letting her feet guide her all around the Gardens, until she finds herself going to the Arcade. It's a place she hasn't given much thought to until now, but it's as good a place as any. The scent of cigarette smoke reaches her, and she knows someone else must be there. It doesn't bother her, and she regards the other as just another presence, though she catches the tail end of a question.

"Because some idiot would pour it on the machines." And with that, she finds a seat to rest in, going back to her

[kneebruises]

With the music as loud as it is, Sasha doesn't actually hear Jill coming in, but after a while, she has the feeling on the back of her head like there's someone else in the room and a paranoia-driven person such as Sasha is not one to ignore such a feeling. So she lowers the headphones and jumps slightly when she sees the other woman coming closer, flinching a little out of reflex. She grasps her fingers around the headphones for a little while, and then follows her with her eyes, before lowering her glance.

Not a monster, she tries to make herself believe, but she doesn't know that about Jill, so she's keeping her guard up. Which is not to say she ever lowers it.

"Ah." It's... just a noise, really, since she doesn't know how to respond. It's not to make small talk what she speaks next, simply a statement of fact as she looks over the computer with the ERROR 404 screen. "I would rather have coffee than unworking computers..."

[freemade_grace]

She notes the jumping, the way her every movement is watched, as if the other knew the names they called her or if Jill had come in with a gun. Paranoia? It wasn't her place to ask about it, if it was so. Bit unfortunate, really, she could have asked her several questions.

"Sorry I can't offer to fix it for you." Constructs weren't her speciality. Especially not foreign ones. "Though I think some of the Necessities, the ones that turned into apartments, came with coffee machines inside them." At least the one she'd taken over for now had one, it was quite handy once you figured out the controls.

[kneebruises]

"It's, hum, it's fine. I don't, really... Ah, care about it," she says, glancing at the computer as she leaves it on, attention back to Jill. Not her eyes, though, those are fixed on the floor, because she doesn't dare looking people in the eye. Sure, occasionally she will look up, but only for a quick glance, only for a tiny second, before tilting her head back down

[freemade_grace]

She keeps her gaze unfocused, more on a point in the air than at Sasha. What could she do to prove she wasn't threatening but that, as she figures she couldn't help if people wanted to fear. Some problems are people's own, and some aren't.

Those kinds of thoughts get her thinking back to the idea that had been proposed to her. What was she doing with herself other than training a bit and being useless? To be out of control...all of a sudden the thought was irritating her, poking at her brain like a child with a stick, and it motivates her to do something, anything.

Control, fear, pride. All things she knew, could talk about. And if one could talk, one could write. It was more attractive the longer she lingered on the thought.

"Depends on what you consider long, but it's been...two months, I think. You?" It's only polite to return the question, no matter what it is.

[kneebruises]

"A month and a week."

She keeps track of these things in a little notebook inside her backpack. Back in her world, she was an informant, so writing down details is somewhat of an acquired habit that she can't let go of - and why would she, in a completely foreign place such as the Gardens? The more information she gathers, the better.

And, from what she gathered so far, it seems that a lot of people are from different worlds, yet there are some women that come from common places, people that knew each other previous to their arrival to the Garden. Sasha does not use the Vine much, has no need to (or hasn't had the need yet, at least).

"You--" she clears her throat with a little sound, scratching at her wrists nervously. "Y-You're, ah, not from here either, s-so, ahm, do you have anyone from your wo-world? Here, I mean?"

[freemade_grace]

Did she? There was no one she could recognize, no other Remade, it seemed-that other woman hadn't known what she was getting at, so there was none of those. No obvious ones like she would have known of the xenian races, and no one like that woman in the group, Blueday.

"I don't think I do." She wasn't upset by it, just accepting it. If she was different maybe she would have made some crack at the others who had been raised from the dead as being from her "world". But the joke felt tasteless to her, and so it remained silent. "No one's stood out as familiar yet."

[kneebruises]

Sasha makes a little noise, something like a sound of acknowledgement, but she isn't looking at Jill - instead, her eyes seem to have drifted at the door and just glance at it, looking but not seeing. The paranoid scrawny woman is, most likely, thinking about the ways that she could stand up and dash towards the door should Jill prove to be a monster or something of the kind because apparently this place, these Gardens, enjoyed playing tricks on its hostages.

Idly rubbing her shoulder, Sasha leans back against the chair, soon her restless hands coming to play with the strap of her backpack. She looks down at it and goes to fumble with the zipper, finally deciding to pull out a pack of cigarettes. She has a couple of them inside the bag, some empty, some halfway there, some full. Whenever she saw a pack lost, she'd take it. This particular one, a Camel pack, has a bit of blood prints. Not hers, though, she had found it like that.

"Hum, smoke?" She offers the pack to her before taking one herself.

[freemade_grace]

The gesture surprises her. She would smoke occasionally, mainly when she got upset and needed to cool her head before something major broke out. But this, more a casual type...it really had been a while. Perhaps it would help her think better, or less.

An eyebrow raises at the prints, but hey, there's a thousand reasons they could be there. Going back for them after something, an accident, some other reason she can't be bothered to think of...yeah, the last was sounding more and more likely as she tried to stop thinking about it.

"Only if you have a light as well, but I promise I'll return the favour."

[kneebruises]

To be completely honest, it's not that casual. Sasha doesn't give things because she's a good person or because she doesn't mind sharing. It's more of a habit of covering her own ass. If you do something that can win the trust or a favour from that person, she will exploit said favour to try to keep herself alive for most of the time. She's a broken thing, really, with little redeeming points.

She ends up nodding to Jill and grabs one of the (again) many lighters she has. She tests it as as it flickers and produces a tiny flame, she throws it to the other woman gently.

"Y-You can keep it," she says with her little stutter, pulling a cigarette for herself and lighting it.