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

[thespaceopera]

[ Calibration Rooms ]
( for N-Z characters )

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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

[therewerefifty]

[Wise choice. The upper floor looks much the same, still with clothing strewn in different places. She can either investigate the scattered clothing and accessories:

- The pale cream yukata;
- The dark blue kimono with red flower patterns;
- The ornate jewelled hair pin;
- The far plainer, practical hair pins;
- The obi, draped all on its own;
- The pale headscarf;

or continue down to the balcony overlooking the street.]

[noprophecies]

[she may as well investigate the clothing.

After a moment or two - she doesn't recognize most of this, having never been one for fancy clothes or even doing things with her hair - she picks up the plain hair pins to look at closer. She at least recognizes those]

[therewerefifty]

[The door opens to the room and Makie walks in.

And for a moment, Tempest might think she actually did, but her hair is long, tucked up in the same style as she was wearing on the bridge, and her expression is-- well, not happy, per se, but reasonably content enough, as much as she's capable of looking so. There are sounds of laughter elsewhere, both women and men, and she sits at a stand to reapply her makeup, and her kimono is a beautiful blue and purple.

This is another memory. A short one; she hums to herself a few notes of a song, minor key, touching up her hair and applying another two pins to keep it in place. And floating up the stairs, a woman calls out. "O-Maki! You have a guest!"

She glances toward the door. "Yes, ma'am! I'm coming!" Another to pour wine for, to entertain, a safer and less degrading form of entertainment. This is an acceptable compromise, she thinks, the work of a geisha. Makie pads down the stairs to sit in front of a sliding door, smiling tentatively at another woman dressed much the same way, who draws the door back.

The man kneeling on the other side is the same man she saw on the bridge, his face disbelieving for a moment before it steels itself in pure judgment. And the smile falters right off her face.

"...Kagehisa-sama."

And just like that, she knows she won't be able to stay.

Sorry, Tempest. Though at least the items found on this floor aren't like the dead trees.]

[noprophecies]

[this is significantly less traumatic than dead trees, it's true.

Idly, she wonders what happened between them after the memories she's seen - but she immediately cuts that thought off immediately, because experience tells her that it never goes the way one wants it to, or wishes it to.

She touches the headscarf next, the only other item that looks familiar]

[therewerefifty]

[...oh. Well, then.

This memory is of the narrow streets of the same town as earlier. The same bridge can be seen in the distance, but the focus is on a lanky man with scars on his face, hair in a topknot, grouchy and leaning against a wooden shack like he owns it while a teenage girl with her hair in braids waves at him and runs off.

Makie approaches from the other direction, pale scarf hooding her features, and her footsteps are slow and steady, her shamisen in hand. Her fingers touch the strings lightly, but she doesn't play. Instead, her meandering walk takes her directly to the scarred man just as he yawns, and she lifts delicate fingers to cover his mouth.

"Good heavens!"

He turns towards her, startled, and Makie outright grins, her tone warm and playful and vastly different to her usual self. "You seem bored, big boy."

The man blinks. "Who the hell are you?"

"That's not a very nice thing to say to a lady," Makie retorts, one hand going to her hip. "So...how about we have a little party, mm? Just twenty-four."

Understanding lights the man's face, and just as quickly he loses interest. "I'm already getting my ashes hauled. Try someone else."

She makes a show of glancing further down the street to where his companion ran off to, sounding terribly amused. "You mean by that little girl? You're a very naughty fellow. And here I thought she still looked like a virgin?"

His expression flattens. "Look, I'm tellin' ya. I'm not so horny I'd bang some broken-down old whore who can't even get work in a brothel. You're pissing me off, so beat it!"

Makie smiles, splaying her fingers over the scarf across her shoulders, voice like honey. "Look closely, and judge for yourself if I am a 'broken down old whore'."

He tilts his head, humming thoughtfully, then reaches out to tip her chin back gently, letting her features catch the light. Soft, clear skin. Faint smile. And there's a long moment of silence.

"Not bad. Not bad at all."

And he turns on his heel. "Okay, you sold me. Come on." Heads for a gap between houses and leaves the street, and Makie follows in his wake.]

[noprophecies]

[. . . hm.

For such different circumstances, they've certainly lived similar lives. Though brothels for her were always a last ditch effort, if she ever ended up never being able to find work.

She frowns for a moment, then pushes to her feet to find Makie. She thinks it's about time to find a way out]

[therewerefifty]

[There is no door out to the street, no obvious exit, though eventually Tempest's search will lead her to try the sliding door to the balcony. There she'll find that, just like the field of dead trees below, what's outside doesn't quite match. The balcony is there, but there's a beach below instead of any street of revelers, and a small, blond child can be seen playing on all fours in the distance. The sky is a brilliant blue, save for the dark and ominous storm clouds hanging on the horizon almost like a surreal painting.

Makie's shamisen is leaning against a rickety chair on its last legs, and the balcony itself is lined with jars that seem to be full, mostly, of weird bits of debris and shells.

Makie herself is nowhere in evidence in this place. Though Tempest may now get the feeling she's being watched.]

[noprophecies]

[why are heart games and calibrations so weird.

She frowns at the jars, leaning over to peer at what's inside before she sees the child on the beach. Is there a way down there, or is she stuck on the balcony?]

[therewerefifty]

[There's no way down, per se, but it is only a short drop to the sand and she can vault over without injury if she wishes.]

[noprophecies]

[oh, she wishes. She considers finding another way first, but - nah, she's impatient. So hopping down to the sand she goes]

[therewerefifty]

[Dropping to the sand doesn't come with a memory, per se, but it does feel different. Despite the odd storm clouds on the horizon, the weather is just warm enough, just right, and the overriding atmosphere seems to be that of a sanctuary. Peace.

The little girl stops her capering as Tempest jumps down, stopping to squint in her direction instead. Of all things, she looks like she has the corpse of a frog dangling from one hand.]

[noprophecies]

[who would of thought that a peaceful feeling would still set her on edge. It's a foreign concept to her; she's never felt peace, not really.

She offers the little girl a smile and a brief wave, approaching her slowly. The frog only gets a brief glance]

Well met, little one. It is nice here, yes?

[therewerefifty]

[The girl scowls, hunching back more like a wild animal than a small child, and glances behind her. She appears to be looking at a rocky overhang, an opening between them barely visible behind walls of hanging, dry seaweed.

And here, too, is a memory; a brief glimpse more than anything else, of Makie sitting on sun-warmed rocks here on this beach playing her shamisen. She looks ill, cheeks gaunt, and her kimono still shows streaks of mud on the lower edges of it. The blonde child is shambling up to her solemnly, also covered in muddy streaks, and Makie stops playing to glance at her. And her smile is both sweet and full of relief.

"Lilly. There you are."]

[noprophecies]

[Tempest pauses at the brief memory, frowning; what was that? Why did Makie look ill?

She glances at the child again before following her glance to the rocky overhang curiously]

[therewerefifty]

[The child bares her teeth, planting herself in a failed attempt to block Tempest's view, speaking for the first time, short and clipped. "Stay out. Drown." For all the sense that makes. And she points up the way Tempest came instead, back to the balcony.]

[noprophecies]

[she regards the child with a curious look, then gives the overhang one more look before she kneels down, putting herself more at the child's height]

I have already been there. [she gestures to the balcony] Do you know the way out?

[therewerefifty]

[The child's face screws up into a look that's half confusion and half like she thinks Tempest is a colossal idiot. Don't take it personally-- it's just the way she is. She points back toward the balcony again, emphatically, chanting one word.

"Ask!]