Voices from Heaven (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thespaceopera) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2019-01-20 07:25 pm
thespaceopera) wrote in driftfleet2019-01-20 07:25 pm
Entry tags:
- !event,
- !mingle,
- adrian "alucard" tepes,
- baku,
- bentley "ben" douglass,
- ciel phantomhive,
- connor,
- felix gaeta,
- glenn rhee,
- grievous,
- haggar,
- james tiberius kirk (au),
- kaname buccaneer,
- katherine "kitty" pryde,
- keith,
- krolia,
- lance,
- libra,
- loki,
- lorden gesh,
- lup,
- magnus burnsides,
- manji,
- messer ihlefeld,
- mikleo,
- nico di angelo,
- pavel chekov,
- prompto argentum,
- remy lebeau,
- sorey,
- taako,
- the vision,
- thor odinson,
- tyrion lannister,
- vash the stampede,
- veronica,
- victor frankenstein,
- wanda maximoff
dreams in digital
( for A-M characters )
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(last updated: 1/21/19)
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I'm always busy. People who just sit around are boring, right?
[And she's had more than enough of that, thank you.]
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[ this is different from when loki invades a mind. he doesn't need to visualize a space, he simply dives in and takes what he needs, molding it to his purposes. ]
What are you making?
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[She glances at her hands; they're holding a spoon and a mixing bowl, but what lies within is nebulous, malformed, a spiraling galaxy in liquid form. She stares down at it for a long moment, then back at him.]
...I dunno. It's always changing, you know? Could be cookies. Could be pie. Could be a weapon to save the fate of the world. Could just be... an idea. It's whatever I need it to be.
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So you don't know what it is right now?
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[She's entirely too cheerful about this fact.]
I'm all about trial and error. Do something over and over, again and again, and eventually, you'll get to where you need to go. Tweak it, change it up, do it better every time. It's part of what I love about cooking- when you're making a recipe, it's never perfect the first time. But once you find exactly the right way to do it... yeah, there's no feeling like that.
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[ there's a handful of things loki has gotten right in his lifetime. they've all diminished or turned against him. he'll never be selfless enough to be good and he's selfish enough to do the right thing only when it suits him. for a while, he thought that was fine.
now he's less sure, but that's normal. but he trails off to go look at the other stuff, like the red cloak on the chair. ]
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how long can we live like this?]
She comes home to a scrappy, one-room, one-bed apartment, tired from a long day's work, anxious of what she'll find here. Today's supposed to be the day. Today is when they'll know, after months of waiting. The mail is on the floor and she scoops it up, flipping through. It's mostly notices for funds owed- to the alchemist, the armory, the supplier. Everything they'd scraped together on lien so they could perform their practical exam, with the promise of payment (and perhaps a Charm spell or two to get the paperwork signed) was now due. They were fucked if-
-if the IPRE letters weren't there. Which. They were. Emblazoned across the wax-sealed envelopes, plain as day. "The Institute of Planer Research and Exploration". One for her, one for Taako. She does not open them, not even her own. She sits down on the bed with them, and she waits quietly, fingers twisting together, stress permeating the whole room.
what if we didn't get in?
what if we fucked it up?
what if one of us got in and the other-
She replays the exam in her mind again, over and over, searching for any errors she could have made that would result in them denying her entry. She hadn't. She couldn't have. And Taako boasted that he'd done it perfectly as well, but he'd have done that anyway, even if he'd bungled it up. He wanted her to get in as much as she wanted him to.
fuck
fuck
we'll have to skip town again, we'll have to start over
This paranoia feeds her thoughts until the door opens and Taako joins her, bitching about work or some other nonsense until he catches sight of her expression, and the envelope in her hands. He freezes. Wordlessly she holds it up to him as he joins her on the bed. Silence lies thick like a blanket between them both, until finally Lup says, "Together, or not at all."
"Together, or not at all," is his echo, and as one they tear open the envelopes and draw out the letters to read the contents within. Lup's eyes scan the text until she finds the word she desperately needed to feel safe again. She looks up at the same time he does, frozen in shock for a moment. 3...2...1....
"Accepted!!" they shout at the same time, turning their letters towards one another- identical, save for the name attached. Taako lifts his hand for a high-five but she just lunges right at him, tackling him down against the bed, giggling wildly, her legs kicking as he laughingly protests. She knows he's full of shit- he's as happy as she is.
Accepted. Accepted. With full fucking scholarship. Their lives were going to change forever. Their lives were going to be amazing.
[And just like that it's over. Lup is wordlessly stirring that galaxy again, though this time she's watching him.]
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Is something wrong?
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Nothing's wrong, nah. But if you're gonna wander into my brain or dream or whatever and poke at all these memories, I should at least get to see your reaction. It's like watching a movie with a pal when you already know all the plot points. The fun's in their expressions!
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This isn't my first time in someone's head, though it's not usually so . . . scenic.
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[She's allowed to think of herself as the best ever, in or out of her own head, clearly.]
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That also seems likely. If only I could say for sure.
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[She gestures dramatically to herself.]
What're you here for, my dude?
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[ that seems to be the theme here. ]
Is there something I should look at?
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[ he likes lup enough that he doesn't want to intrude . . . too much. ]
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Because that's not how friendship works. You don't just walk up to somebody and go, hey! What would I like to know about you as a person? That's kinda effed up.
[Well, okay, you don't really walk up to them and start digging through their memories either, but this place is kind of unorthodox.]
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People are allowed to be seen in a favourable light. I doubt there are things you want me to see.
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[She waves a hand vaguely towards the back doorway, where the curtains hang, the beads fluttering in some unseen wind as if gesturing at him.]
All the grimdark shit is locked up over there where it belongs. No bummers in my kitchen, that's the rule.
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[ well then. time to head for the cookie jar. ]
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When the room changes, the scene it reveals is... blurry. Bits and pieces of it are fuzzy, making it difficult to see many of the details. It still looks like a kitchen, but a different one- a more simple looking design, less sleek but more uniform. It smells sweet and the air is warm. Four chairs are placed around an old wooden table and one is occupied by a small, blond-haired child who is quietly watching an adult female elf wrap a bandage around the child's leg. Something is odd about her features, shifting and coalescing, features changing from moment to moment. One second she looks exactly like Lup, the next she looks older, then younger, then her nose is bigger or her eyes are a different colour. The child in the memory never notices the changes.
"Mama? Is Koko gonna be okay?" The child - Lup - whispers. Her shoulders hunch, fear audible in her voice.
Her mother hums. Unlike her features, her voice rings through clearly enough. She sounds fairly young. "He'll be fine, sweetie. His cut was deeper than yours, so Papa wants someone else to make sure it'll heal safe. You'll see him tomorrow."
Lup is quiet again, her eyes glued to the window, waiting. There's another wave of anxiety, mingling with frustration. Tomorrow is too long. He'd been crying, he'll be lonely. "Can we go there too?"
The elf woman sighs. "I'm working tomorrow. It'll be hard enough with your father…" She trails off, then looks up. Her face blurs, there and gone and back again, and she smiles and brushes a hand through Lup's hair. Warm. "Sorry, honey. We can't go tonight, it's almost bedtime."
"I don't care about bedtime, I-"
"The answer is no." Silence follows the stern scolding, and her mother returns to quietly bandaging her leg until she can fasten it shut and relax, leaning in to kiss the child's forehead. "I know you want to see him. I'm certain he'll be missing you, too. But the roads are dangerous at night, and he and your father will want you safe too, don't you think? They'll be at your auntie's tonight." She's quiet a moment, studying Lup's expression, and then sighs and murmurs, "How about sending a message, then?"
Lup's eyes light up, instantly relieved, and her mother goes to fetch a quill from a locked box and offer it out to her. The child focuses intently on it for a long moment, then calls out, "Taako? How are you feeling, are you okay? Is your leg gonna fall off? It better not! Um- Mama and me just wanna say goodnight! Come home soon!" The spell winks out a few words early, but Lup doesn't notice, her eyes closed, waiting for a response. When her eyes open again, they're bright and happy. "He's okay! They're still with the healer. He says goodnight and that you gotta teach me how to count better."
Her mother laughs, loud and relieved, and trades the quill for a warm, soft cookie. A hand brushes a hand through Lup's hair as she takes a huge bite and grins with chocolate in her teeth.
[And bam, it's back to the kitchen. Lup offers her galaxy-coated spoon out to him, the colours swirling across the wood.]
Might taste better with this.
[Her expression is more solemn, now- a bit sad, but nostalgic also. Even though the memory is finished, something about it makes those feelings linger, permeating throughout the kitchen. Warmth, love, longing.
Those were good times. Better times, in many ways, than what came after.]
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Is that safe?
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[She grins playfully, any lingering sorrow in her eyes gone again, just like that.]
Everything in this place is safe.
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All right then.
[ he takes the spoon, trying a little of . . . whatever it was. ]
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a gentle, maternal hand brushes through his hair
skin pressed to his forehead, a friend's breath sharing his own
cautious fingers weave through his, squeezing tightly
the soft lips of a lover on his cheek
It's gone as quickly as it came.]
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