savetheearth | 002 ♦ Action

Entry tags:

002 ♦ Action

who: Winter and OPEN
what: Almost dying is a real drag, so Winter's in the library trying to take her mind off it. Hilarity (and possibly other things) ensues.
where: The biggest library she can get into; ergo, the big public library.
when: June 18th

It's been a few days since the adventure in the mine. While she wasn't too badly hurt physically - most of her cuts have been reduced to fading scars, and her only bruises are covered by the simple powder blue sundress she's wearing - the emotional scars are still fairly raw. Privately, she'll admit she was scared out of her mind back there, and she spent the last day or two locked up at home. Her mother had tended to the worst of her injuries when she got home, thankfully accepting the excuse of tripping on rocks when she was reading in the park.

But now that she doesn't look like a walking disaster (as far as she's concerned), Winter's gone to one of her favorite places in town: the library. After some time to grab a few books she hadn't read before, she started toward an open armchair to curl up in... and something caught her attention. A book: the Hyakunin Isshu, handily translated on the spine as the Hundred Poems, and on inspection apparently written in both Japanese and English. She didn't know why, but she liked poems, so she picked it up and added it to her stack, heading to sit down.

Over the course of the next several hours, Winter can be found sitting pretty much in the same place, alternating between novels, nonfiction, and that book of poems. Sitting next to her on the arm of the chair is that plushie from the mine. That book of poems, by the way, is possibly the most interesting: if you're relatively close by, you can hear her reciting from the it softly, and at some point you may hear her breath hitch, as she seems to space out and be somewhere far away for a long moment.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

This isn't the first time Banagher has seen her. In more ways than he apparently knew. The public library was a big place, old and well-loved but maintained nicely, spanning over a good chunk of block and standing at three floors. Windows crowning the topmost level allowed natural sunlight to flood the reading areas on particularly bright afternoons, making it popular for those who just wanted a little peace and quiet. But he's seen her here and there despite its sprawling layout, never in the same armchair, or at the same genre section, never with the same books. That was the sort of person who really loved them, wasn't it?

Today it's no different, even when he's busied himself with all the extra tasks he could take. After missing one day of school and one of work thanks to the fallout from the mines — bruises, scrapes, aching muscles, a handsome scratch from cheek to ear on the left side of his face — he's feeling pretty behind.

A pride that was just as sore as his limbs not withstanding.

She must have understood that too, which brings him no real comfort. All he'd had was her voice from the network to go by, but even that was unmistakable within the confines of the mines where he'd found her as a result of something more than just an accident. It was getting stronger everyday, that ability to sense things, and people. Though he'd suffered the frustration of not having anything to fight with, at least he was able to find the safe way out, and that was all that had mattered.

An hour or two passes until he's finished up his work enough to take a break, and he finds himself wandering back to the reading room Winter had taken up residence in, two cans of lemon tea from the vending machine in hand.

The circular layout of the chairs makes him have to approach from behind, but he throws out a mild, "Hey." by way of greeting so it's not as much of a surprise when he offers her one of the teas from over the back of the chair. "Here you go."

"B-Banagher..." She hadn't expected to see him today, but she didn't mind. Someone to talk to - someone that actually understood everything that'd happened - was a valuable commodity, and she put her book down to accept the tea he'd offered. "Thank you."

A long silence; Winter looks anywhere but at Banagher, clearly uncomfortable.

"I'm... trying not to think about the other day."

"Yeah, I know," he says softly. It's about as much affirmation he can give at the moment, making his way around the circle of armchairs. Deftly he grabs a small table and pulls it up, followed by a chair of his own. "I've been the same way for the last couple of days."

Banagher minds the stacks of books already laid out across the table when he sets his tea down, dropping into a seat across from her.

"It was hard enough just trying to explain these away," he continues, thumbing through his bangs to indicate the scratch on his cheek, now healing up and dulling away. "I hope yours haven't given you too much trouble."

Winter spends a long moment looking at the scar, a little depressed. "I'm sorry. You're hurt because... I wasn't strong enough..." She sighs. "I'm c-clumsy, so I explained it away like that, but..."

Banagher casts a curious glance at her, not having expected an apology.

"Oh, no. It's fine, really!" he smiles, as a reassurance. "I was actually just happy that everyone could make it out. I think... there are ways to be strong without having to know how to fight, besides."

Granted, he can't exactly ignore that it would have been beneficial in that situation, but he and weapons still don't sit quite right.

"If you're sure... A-and I agree. Being able to fight i-isn't everything. But... in a place like that, it certainly helps."

She sighs, turning back to her book for a moment and sipping at the tea he'd brought. "I t-think I've had enough adventure for a while, though."

"You don't have to worry," Banagher says, a touch more serious. "Strength comes in a lot of different forms. Considering all of us... I'm sure that's true. Besides, you're sitting here talking to me, aren't you? That's enough."

If anything, it proved to him that his seemingly totally useless skill wasn't so passive, after all. Even if he's still having a hard time getting a good grasp on it.

"Is this the first time you've gone out since everything?"

"S-still... I don't want anyone to be hurt because of me. So I want to be able to do something. N-no matter how small," she insisted, a small fire burning in her eyes. "Y-you... understand, right?"

Surely, of any of them, he did. She had to believe that. Nobody else would understand this feeling. Certainly not her parents, who she couldn't even tell about any of this.

"I haven't... really wanted to go out before now. But if I t-tried to stay inside any longer... I'd go crazy."

He could argue all day that it was worth a few bumps and scratches if she and others got out safely, when those in his memories hadn't, but in some way it heartens him to see the same determination burning away quietly there. It prompts him to respond in kind — quickly, and stubbornly.

"I do!" Pausing, he levels his voice again. "Of course I do. I get it. How helpless you feel when you don't know what you're even capable of."

When you don't know what you are. And what good it was if it couldn't protect those closest to him.

"I know you'll find it. That kind of strength." When his smile persists, it's a touch knowing. "You didn't let everything that happened stop you from visiting, after all."

Cabin fever really was the worst.

Slowly, as if she's unsure of it, she raises a hand in front of her, and just... looks at it for a second or two, before clenching it, nodding. "That... I want to have that kind of strength." She sighs. "I w-want to stop being so useless... to stop having to hide all the time. I'm g-going to work hard so I can make a difference."

Winter realizes, belatedly, that her face is growing a little hot - she hadn't intended to let this much of herself show to someone she barely knows. But at the same time... who else was there to open up to? Banagher was willing to talk to her, plus he knew about the whole numbers... thing. So she could be honest with him. That was something she was growing to miss, even as little as she talked to other people as it was. He, and the others on the network, were a lifeline, people she could talk to without fear.

And she needed that, more than she'd ever let herself say aloud. It was at least partially the reason she'd come here today - sure, she wanted to read, but more than that, she wanted someone to talk to. Thankfully, she'd found someone, and she was grateful he was here. In spite of herself, even as worried as she was, Winter managed to give him a confident smile.

"Just don't do anything too crazy!" Banagher teases in part, though there was some honesty present there, no matter how faint. Her will rings clear and unbroken, like a bell. "I don't know what I'd do if you went from zero to daredevil. Probably be really weirded out."

Banagher leans back in his seat, trying to lose the bit of edge that had a tendency to creep in when discussing things the more dangerous parts of having numbers. Of knowing that they knew. But he's glad all the same, that if by at least listening, he could help in some way. If they couldn't depend on one another, then who else was there left to turn to?

"I think just wanting to do something is amazing," he admits, resting his elbows on the armrests and folding his hands over his middle. "I didn't want to believe any of it, when it first started."

"Y-yeah. I'm not going to do anything too reckless. It's just... the principle of the thing." She sighs; it is hard to deal with everything, but she's managing, somehow. She was fighting hard to keep herself together, though. So far, it seemed to be working, as she pushed her glasses back onto her nose.

"I d-didn't want to believe everything myself at first... but I guess it's grown on me. N-now... the question is, what can I do?"

"I think it's hard to envision something so incredible until it's happening to you, or the people you care about," Banagher admits, casting a sidelong glance at the sunlight slanting through one of the topmost windows. It was difficult for her so far, even if he doesn't exactly mean to pick up on it.

"Maybe rather than thinking of what you can do right now, when there's so much we don't know... think about what you want to do."

"Y-you're probably right... n-not that I really think about it now, either... a-and I don't have much in the way of precious people. B-but it seems like it may be time to start," she allows. The look on her face is sincere, but she's seeming a little detached.

"What I want to do... I'm not sure what that is yet, but... I want to find out. Um... I'm sorry. You came to take a break, and you ended up giving me a pep talk." She has the grace to look a little bashful about it.

"You don't have to apologize to me," he says, sounding just about as sincere as he always does. Admitting loneliness like she had to him wasn't at all easy — in fact, he finds it pretty brave. So taking a few minutes out of his time wasn't something that bothered him. "As long as you feel a little better. I think most of us wouldn't like to be alone right now, after everything. And besides! Talking to someone is a lot more interesting than sorting the check-in bins."

Finally, he straightens himself out in his seat, leaning forward and finally opening up his tea.

"Were you reading something interesting?"

"I k-know... but I still feel bad." She pokes the ends of her index fingers together in what is rapidly becoming an obvious nervous tell. "I... appreciate you taking time to t-talk to me. A-although I think the check-in bins could be interesting too... y-you get to see all the books that way."

She sighs, taking a moment to look back down at the book she had in her lap, and thinking back to that weird feeling. The last time she'd felt it was... when the blue stuffed animal sitting next to her, whose name she instinctively knew was Raquel, basically dropped into her arms in the cave. Was it related?

"Somewhat... It's a book of J-Japanese poems. I d-don't know why, but... it feels... familiar, almost, even though I've never read it."

Needless to say, the check-in bins could definitely come second. Though it did hold some interest for him, seeing what kinds of things were still circulating (and finding out that despite working there, there was no way he was going to see every book), it's not really a stand-in for interacting with someone face-to-face. Someone who arguably needed it.

"Familiar," he repeats thoughtfully, taking a little sip of tea. "Was it like a pulse? Not that that's an official name, or anything! But, it's that feeling where... everything inside of you goes all empty for a minute, because you're finding out something else about yourself."

The thing that started with the numbers, and turned into so much more.

Winter lets out a soft gasp - they had a name? It felt the same for everyone? This was... good to know.

"Y-yes! That's what it was. But... I don't think I got anything yet...? M-maybe I need to read more..."

So that really was it. He smiles as encouragement.

"Maybe you have and you just don't know it yet. Or it could be really subtle," he mulls aloud. Trying to make rhyme or reason out of why they got these feelings, these pieces of some other life, wasn't easy, let alone what any of them actually meant. He had so many, and they all just felt like clues. Never the same thing twice, never a perfect fit, or a complete memory.

"Some stuff isn't, though! Like, well... that blue toy, right?"

"It's... possible," she conceded. "Just b-because I know it's connected to the book... doesn't mean it's about the book." Aside from that weird feeling that the book of poems was a little familiar, she didn't have an inkling of what it could be. Further reading might be in order later... later, when there wasn't someone generously offering his free time to talk to her.

"Y-you mean Raquel? Um... I hadn't thought of it that way. B-but, no, he isn't subtle at all. N-not that I know anything about him... was he a gift? O-or did not-me just like having him around...?"

Edited 2013-06-29 08:08 (UTC)

It was true that a blue plush toy and a book of Japanese poetry didn't exactly lend themselves to forming a clear picture. If not for her, then that went double for him, so he's out of helpful suggestions when it came to trying to forge a link between the two. She did make a good point — something involved didn't necessarily have to be a focal point. Only time would tell, there.

"Raquel, huh," Banagher leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. "Do you like having him around?"

With her book out of her hands, Winter has unconsciously picked up Raquel, holding the stuffed toy in her arms - either the desire was part of the Echo that gave him to her, or it's just instinct, but either way it looks natural.

"I... do," she admits. "He's... comfortable. And I c-can't help but feel he's important, somehow. I w-wonder if he's related to not-me and that pink-haired girl...?"

Even through the anxiety, her mind is whirling - there wasn't much to go on, but could there be a connection between the three bits of knowledge she had? A blue plushie, a book of poems, and a student council president?

A scowl comes to her face after a moment. "I... don't know enough. I need... more." It comes out in almost a whisper, just loud enough to carry in the quiet library.

"I have something like that too. So if you really feel that way, he must be connected, somehow. Maybe even to where you can find out more about that girl."

He's hopeful for her, and honest about it. Through that machine that was constantly just on the peripherals of his memory, he was able to figure out that he had some kind of connection to Audrey, hadn't he? It was more than possible, in his eyes.

"Just be careful. With everything that's happened up until now, I feel like we get these pulses when we're in danger, or something just as crazy happens. I want to find out more too, but if it's going to be like this, then..."

Leveraging at what cost was something they'd have to think about. Even if he doesn't want to.

"...then the only way to f-find out more... might be painful," she concludes. Of course it wouldn't be that easy, and she sighs with the realization. She'd wanted to find those answers, and having to live with the knowledge that the only way to get them would put her in more danger was... probably going to make her reckless sometime in the future. She knew that, but... it wasn't in her nature to resist it. She needed to know, and it was going to eat at her until she found out, for better or worse.

"But..." She returns her gaze to Banagher, her eyes clear, and voice slow with a forming thought. "Maybe I don't... have to look right away. Maybe I don't have to change." She smiles, her grip on Raquel tightening just a little.

"It's a s-small feeling, but... I feel like I belong, just a little. That... might be enough, for now." She can feel her cheeks getting warm, and she's cursing herself for acting like a stereotypical heroine in a novel, but right now, she doesn't mind it so much. Maybe that's why it was common - it was something people wanted to feel, deep down.

In this moment, Winter didn't feel like she had to hide away. Someone - a few someones - acknowledged her. And for right now, that was enough. She felt... comfortable, almost. She felt alive.

Honestly, she felt a lot of things, some of which she didn't have names for (something else to look up, later). But one of the strongest is gratitude. "T-thank you, Banagher. I... owe you, and the others, a lot already, I think."

002 ♦ Action

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