i know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam

[thespaceopera]

[ Calibration Rooms ]
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ROOMS BY CHARACTER

N - P Nami Natalie Goodman Natasha Romanoff Noctis Lucis Caelum Nono Okita Souji Otono-Tachibana Makie Pavel Chekov Prompto

Q - S Riona Cousland Theirin Rip Hunter Sam Winchester Seymour Krelborn Shinji Ikari Shouta Aizawa Signy Mallory Sokka Sorey Steve Rogers

T - V Takashi Shirogane Takeshi Tyrion Lannister Uraraka Ochako Vash the Stampede Velvet Crowe Victor Nikiforov

W - Z Yuan Ka-Fai Zaveid Zelda

Comments

TW for sexual harassment

[therewerefifty]

[The room with its discarded clothing fades out to a more common area, a small group of men drinking, being served and chatted to by women. The geisha house is not a luxurious one, but it is respectable, and the women here are at ease with the men, both groups laughing easily together. They quieten down as the woman kneeling at the end of the room, light cast on the small sound board behind her, finally finishes tuning the shamisen and begins to play. It's Makie, wearing the self-same kimono that Chuuya touched, looking much the same age as she does now although her hair is far longer, fastened up decoratively with pins and combs. She sings a melancholy ballad of lovers and thieves and tragedy, and her audience is rapt, only to break into cheers and applause when she is done.

"No false modesty, now! It's the first time you've performed for an audience, you say? Wonderful!

Makie smiles in that self-deprecating way, bowing her head. "I fear I made your poor ears suffer..."

"Oh, no, no." The speaker this time is one of the women, pride in her features. "It's not so rare to hear fine singing, fine playing... but few girls your age can imbue it with such feeling. Or at least, such is my poor opinion. And you, good sir?"

The man she addresses laughs, waving his empty cup around, stilling only when she moves to refill it for him. "Ohatsu, you took the words right out of my mouth!"

"Excuse me," says another with a smile, eyes more calculating than the rest. He is not drunk. Not anywhere near. "O-Maki, was it? What was that song called? I fancy myself a connoisseur of the nagauta, but..."

"Please excuse such amateurish work," Makie says softly, putting her shamisen away. "It was a feeble composition of my own. I thought it perhaps appropriate for such dismal weather..." Her voice drops, and her thoughts are far away. "Heavy and lowering..."

There's a brief moment of silence as the man's smile fades. And it's broken by the first man, laughing raucously again. "You're no match for her, boy! A magnificent singer, and a real poet to boot! A real find eh?"

"Yes," says the watchful one. "A well-turned woman. Quite extraordinary." He drinks from his cup, eyes never leaving Makie. "What verse might dare I spin myself... to extol the virtues of that alluring form?"

"My goodness, the young sir, too, is a master of fair speech." Ohatsu sounds amused, glancing across the room. "O-Maki, fill up the cup of our talented guest."

Makie moves to do so, her form perfect, kneeling in front of him with grace. And he watches her for a long moment-- as she refills his cup and tips the jug back, his hand skulks its way up the voluminous kimono sleeve, and she freezes.

"I seem to remember seeing it before, that pretty face of yours... little O-Maki." His voice is low, unheard by the majority of the room as they continue talking. "Yes, yes... now I remember. Up until just a while ago, there was a girl just like you in a whorehouse... in Monzen-Naka-Cho. As Makie tenses, he grins. "Hey, no reason to get all tight-assed about it. I don't make mistakes, after all. It's the face of the woman I slept with." He snickers lightly, hand moving in that sleeve, and Makie doesn't move-- she honestly doesn't know how to react. What's allowed. Whether this will mean she can't stay. "I just couldn't get you out of my head, darlin'. How about it? Tonight? For old time's sake?"

"Sir!"

They both glance around in shock at Ohatsu's sharp call, who watches them both with a steely expression. And then Ohatsu comes to Makie's rescue. "I must ask you to press no further. The women of this house are geisha, sir. We sell conversation and the arts... and nothing more."

The man apologises, pulling his hands back and leaving Makie be, though much of the conciliatory conversation that follows is lost in the relief she feels that this, at least, is one conflict she doesn't have to deal with. Ohatsu casts her a warm smile and continues on as if nothing happened. And soon after, the group of men leave.



The memory fades, leaving Chuuya back in the same room. The shamisen sound that could be heard before has now stopped.]

[mrfancyhat]

Eh?

[Chuuya glances around, confused about what it is he just saw.]

Eh? Eeehh?!

[He stares at the kimono as it hung on the divider as if it... Nah it was just a coincidence. He's losing his mind -- going crazy, that's all. He's going crazy. A space sickness! Still as confused as he is, he did recognize the familiar face.

He glances around more, then decides that maybe someone is around to mess with him. That's his assumption most of the time anyway.]

Ma-- Makie? Are you here, Makie?

[therewerefifty]

[There's silence for a long moment. And then a soft call from a distance, barely heard--]

I'm on the balcony.

[mrfancyhat]

Makie?!

[He was pretty sure he heard her voice, but it was so soft it was almost inaudible. That was a cause for concern -- What if she was in trouble? What if what he saw was an indicator of that?

The positive is that he can easily get to where he thought he heard her, so he rushes outside and -- using his ability -- floats onto the roof, then on the balcony.]

Are you okay?

[therewerefifty]

[He might find things a bit confusing once he tries to step outside proper. For one, despite the sounding festivities and bob of lights, once he flings open the door, he's met with...

...well, a balcony. Overlooking a wide stretch of beach. Makie's there in the corner, on a chair old and rickety and wooden and western, not Japanese, the legs uneven. It's like she fished it out of a dump to sit on. But she looks content, with the shamisen on her lap. Not in trouble at all.]

The view is lovely, isn't it?

[I hope that's an adequate answer.

The beach is deserted, except for a small blonde girl scrabbling on all fours trying to chase a seagull. But there are storm clouds in the distance.]

[mrfancyhat]

[He thought after finding her that that would be it, but now that he finds himself more confused. Was there a beach there the entire time? How did he miss this? It throws him off further.]

View?

[Chuuya wasn't going to judge her taste in things, even if he did on the inside a little. Whatever makes her happy.]

Sure, if you like the stormy look.

[therewerefifty]

[Well, if it helps, the sky is still a lovely blue. The storm clouds... huddle in one section of the horizon, are ominous and depressing to look at and, should Chuuya know anything about weather at all, look plain wrong, hanging there against the blue sky. But perhaps that's the nature of this bizarre place.]

Storms are just a part of nature. I can't begrudge them.

[Adding to the surrealism is you can still hear party goers and drunks in the streets. Despite the fact that there are no streets.]

[mrfancyhat]

I understand that. There is something off about this, however.

[He puts a hand on her shoulder, remembering that she didn't really answer his question in the first place.]

Are you okay? Maybe you should head back inside.

[therewerefifty]

[Her expression flattens for a moment, and there's a flash of unmistakable hostility, there and gone before she wilts under his touch, looking painfully confused.]

You...want me to go back to that place?

[mrfancyhat]

Y... Uh. Yes?

[He hated feeling unsure of himself, but he sure was feeling that right now.]

What's the issue? There didn't seem to be anyone around.

[therewerefifty]

There never is.

[She turns back to the view, wrapping her shawl around her.]

Where is it you think you are, Chuuya-san?

[mrfancyhat]

[Where is he is a good question. He stares at Makie for a moment, trying to think of how to answer.]

I don't know... A place you're familiar with. A memory of yours... somehow.

[therewerefifty]

An odd memory. I know of no place like this but the beach, but I don't care to examine it too closely. It is certainly not a residence I would invite people in; not those I respect.

[Surprise. It's a brothel.]