savetheearth | 002 ♦ Action

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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.

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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."

No one should have ever had to feel like they were going down a difficult path alone. More than ever, Banagher thinks that it's pointless, and ultimately dangerous if apathy towards their fellow numbered was allowed to happen. Just because that's how people were supposed to be. Isolation just couldn't play well with the kinds of things they were stuck experiencing, and just trying to live through as best that they could.

If this was within his ability to do, then how could he not assume at least some responsibility? More importantly, where would that even lead them if he denied it?

But beyond all that, there was still something decidedly human at the eye of this storm. Some tiny, uncomplicated fragment of confidence that blossoms into its own right there is proof beyond any doubt in his mind that it was worth it. A kind of self-worth that runs deep and warm in his veins even when it's all her doing, which he's learning to deal with little by little in place of feeling like he has any resolve of his own.

"It's just something we should do for each other," Banagher replies. You're welcome, in a word. He taps his fingers idly across the can of tea. "You know, sometimes I feel like my life went all crazy when this started. This life, I mean. Like there's a bunch of pieces I know are there, but I just can't get them to line up right, no matter how hard I try. But if I had to try to figure it out all on my own..."

He doesn't really want to think about it.

"So, that's why."

"Maybe... that's why all of us with numbers are in the same place," Winter ventures. "Maybe w-we're supposed to work together on all this. Even if we c-can't figure it out for a while... we can work it out eventually. Together."

She doesn't know that Banagher can sense what she's feeling. There's no way she'd ever figure it out without being told. But still... she gets the feeling that he understands, even the little feelings she can't put into words correctly, and she appreciates it. He had a role in their little group, in that way.

And even if she didn't have one herself yet, she would work toward it. She refused to let someone else do all the work when there was something, however small, she could be doing.

Perhaps even more than that, it made her proud to know that she could be sure that that thought was hers, and hers alone. No "other her" to get in the way and confuse her. Among all the things the numbers changed in her life, her determination wasn't one of them, and that fire burns just the slightest bit brighter.

"If... you ever need someone to talk to... about all this, o-or anything else... let me help you. P-please." 'Until I can find something more substantial, this is all I can do. But I'll put everything I have into it. Please... count on me.'

Things are still a mess in his head, for the most part. A vast, nearly indiscernible mass of energy and emotion, laying just on edges of his awareness, waiting to spill over. Occasionally, there'll be a bright point. A force so strong it cuts through the haze with an alarming kind of clarity and focus — the fact that now is one of those times might only be apparent when his eyes widen a little in thought, in response to that unspoken promise. It was completely innocuous and yet safe, somehow, even when he'd erred on the side of silence when it came to the heaviness of his own memories. But maybe...

"You're a really kind person," Banagher finally says after a long moment of silence. "I'll remember that, because I believe that too. More than anything. That we were given our numbers so we could try to understand and protect one another."

Even if it was just the small stuff. Maybe especially.

Without much more ceremony, he makes to stand. "I should probably get back to work, but thank you."

Winter just smiles softly; she's happy she made an impression, and her resolve is making her a little light-headed. But she nods, pulling the big book of poems back into her hands.

"Okay. Thank you for... staying with me."

She seems to settle a little further into the chair; it's pretty clear she isn't leaving, as she brings her eyes back into focus and looks down at a poem in front of her, waving gently as he moves to leave.

"I know it's not much, but you're welcome."

Even though he makes light of it, he knows differently. Just by sitting there for a while, he thinks it's not too strange of a thing to be thanked for. They had been suddenly severed from their own lives in a way, left awash in unfamiliar waters, so to seek and find just a little bit of safe harbor in one another... well, it wasn't a lot to ask for, in the long run. He rights his chair before offering a wave of his own.

"I'll make sure to catch you soon! Remind me to introduce you to Haro sometime. He's like my version of Raquel."

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002 ♦ Action

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