[She's just gonna be watching you quietly from behind, leaning up against a bookshelf nearby to study you carefully. There's something very familiar about her.]
[Kusanagi tosses the book she was looking at onto the table next to her, where it lands in the midst of a disorderly pile of slender paperbacks.
She turns, scanning the shelves for any other disturbing new additions.
...Well. That's not the sort of disturbing new addition she'd been looking for. A Poseidon cybershell, with the hair and eye styles she used to wear--and the SDA uniform she used to wear, too.]
Something seems to like throwing me to different corners of time and space.
[She hears the bookshelf behind her creaking and straightens up to look at the books the other woman's been looking at. ...Odd titles, but they pick at her cyberbrain, as if she read them from a time before her memory.]
We're told this the MS Elegante, a cruise ship en route to a place called the "Golden Shore." We get new people weekly, but you're part of an unprecedented surge.
[She switches to cybercomm, on a not-so-vague hunch.]
// And I suspect you're from my world. //
[She suspects more than that, but has no intention of tipping her hand this early.]
From the end of the row, nearly mocking as she stood halfway around the corner, not quite framed; a wary pose. Almost a smile in her interested gaze, or is it? The light's too low to tell without adjusting something. A whole new meaning to to the usually precautionary saying, 'watch yourself.'
"Well," She drawls, low and fascinated, "I haven't had this particular dream in a while."
All Kusanagi moves are her eyes. They flick sideways to take in the speaker, though the voice has already told her what she needs to know. After months here, she's beyond protestations of impossibility.
"It's not a dream. My condolences." Her voice is flat, unsympathetic.
Of course, that kind of answer begged the obvious question. Was this another one of those whimsical little games? Just how many of these places one could set up without her knowledge was a depressing number. One was too many for comfort. She didn't move.
"No?" Not quite surprise. Ah, what the hell, why not? You only live once, "A hack, then."
"That would make things simpler, but no." She turns to face the newcomer, her double. The purple hair, the brown-red eyes, the intensity--it's like looking into a mirror that shows the past.
"Or if it is, it's not one I've been able to defeat in seven months of subjective time." No need to explain how unlikely that is to this new arrival. "Welcome aboard."
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Yes, my on-board storage is limited. I have to pick and choose.
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And Appleseed beats your canon up and down.
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(The comment has been removed)
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She turns, scanning the shelves for any other disturbing new additions.
...Well. That's not the sort of disturbing new addition she'd been looking for. A Poseidon cybershell, with the hair and eye styles she used to wear--and the SDA uniform she used to wear, too.]
You're new.
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[She hears the bookshelf behind her creaking and straightens up to look at the books the other woman's been looking at. ...Odd titles, but they pick at her cyberbrain, as if she read them from a time before her memory.]
What is this place anyway?
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[Kusanagi's aware that's entirely uninformative.]
We're told this the MS Elegante, a cruise ship en route to a place called the "Golden Shore." We get new people weekly, but you're part of an unprecedented surge.
[She switches to cybercomm, on a not-so-vague hunch.]
// And I suspect you're from my world. //
[She suspects more than that, but has no intention of tipping her hand this early.]
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"Well," She drawls, low and fascinated, "I haven't had this particular dream in a while."
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"It's not a dream. My condolences." Her voice is flat, unsympathetic.
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"No?" Not quite surprise. Ah, what the hell, why not? You only live once, "A hack, then."
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"Or if it is, it's not one I've been able to defeat in seven months of subjective time." No need to explain how unlikely that is to this new arrival. "Welcome aboard."
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