jade--holloway

[jade--holloway]

[The wry hint of sarcasm in the woman’s voice brings a faint smile to the redhead’s lips. But there’s something else there, too, something Jade can’t quite place. Like when you talk to someone you know you’ve never met before, all the while trying to figure out where you could have seen them. A gravitational pull for a kindred spirit, some could say. But one, /Jade/ was the one people gravitated towards, not the other way around. And two, this woman could hardly be her kindred spirit, being as rough as she looked, all hard angles and edges. (Jade ignores the possibility that on the inside, she is just as rough and hard as the woman sitting across from her.) But in any case, the smile softens the redhead’s already graceful features, and Jade bites her lip before introducing herself.] That about does it, I suppose. Some people like to tell you their infections, if they have any. [She’d already noticed the red tattoo on the woman’s hand.] Although that’s not required or anything. [She smiles again.] I’m Jade. Jade Holloway. Delma.

[An eyeroll, a smirk. Lex hides her grin behind her coffee cup, but she’s pretty sure it’s a poor effort. 

It’s not that she hasn’t smiled for four years. That would be ridiculous, that would be pathetic. She’d had plenty to delight in. But often they were tinged with a kind of grim determination, born of the feeling of scoping in, stepping silently, in for the kill. 

Or the relieved and adrenaline-laced grin that came after, the rush of victory.

And Christof, she could never forget, was hilarious. A dry and deadpan humor, black as pitch. The only thing funnier than Christof cracking a joke was when somebody else didn’t get it, when someone else blinked owlishly at him, unsure of how to take what he just said. 

It just feels different. In here, now. Even though she’s grinning at a similar sort of tone, she already feels softer, looser. Like she shouldn’t, although there’s no real reason why. 

So she places her curling lips around the rim of the mug, takes a gulp that shocks her with how — something it is. More bitter than it should be by far, more viscous too. She supposes she couldn’t complain, but she does grimace as she swallows.]

Alright, sweetheart. [She tips her head like it’s a concession, the held-back grin morphing into a smirk on her face. A joke, though, more than it’s a jab.] I’m Lex. What else is it that I’m supposed to say? Uh — Brink — ?

[jade--holloway]

[Jade yanks her hand back with a laugh, just barely escaping his teeth.] I do not, I repeat, do not ramble. Also, can we stop calling me “little” now? I’m not a kid, you know. [She crosses her arms in front of her chest with a decidedly childish humph.]

Because we both know already I could have you right here, right now, if I wanted to.

[He snickers, wrinkling his nose through a smile and leaning forward to snap his teeth playfully, just in front of her finger. He listens to her, smirking all the while, leaning his elbow on his knee and clicking his tongue.] You’re sounding less and less “witty” by the second, my little Jade. It’s really not like you to ramble or ask questions we both already know the answer to. Are you losing your touch? 

[jade--holloway]

You don’t even know me. [Nevertheless, she gives Elliot a Mona Lisa smile before shaking her head with graceful nonchalance. She’d been fishing for it, if she was being completely honest with herself.] I don’t know, I suppose you hear it often enough and for long enough, you start to believe it. 

There’s plenty of people here in 22, though. [To the point of suffocation, or so it feels like at times. But then again, without those very people to stare at her and shower her with attention, she wouldn’t be able to function. It was one of the reasons that made this place marginally better than being out there in the wilderness. Regular meals and showers didn’t hurt, either.] I mean, not that the people you lost are replaceable with the ones you find here, of course. [She misses her mom. ‘You’re too old to cry for Mommy,’ she tells herself.] But they’re all right. And I get what you mean, about finding the good, even out there, even when it seems impossible, because it just… kinda happens.

You’re special. [Elliot tells her this without really even knowing who she is. It’s just something he knows to be true about everyone he meets. No matter the person, where they came from… everyone had something to offer and something worth while. Even the bad people. But this is Elliot being naive. From what he can tell of Jade, he can tell that she is brave and curious. Both traits are not bad to have. He, himself, is curious, but not always in a good way. His curiosity got him trouble a few more times than he cared to count.

His gentle smile never seems to fade. It’s nice having someone to talk to and not have them automatically laugh in his face or call him names. Since coming to the colony, he had not been able to connect with too many people. There were the few times he found the strength to say hello to someone but that usually backfired.] Why don’t you think you’re special anymore? 

Mm, don’t get me wrong, the times when I was content and happy were few and far between. I wasn’t always glad to be out there in open all alone. I missed people, still do actually, but those good times were something else entirely. I just don’t know how to put them into words…

[jade--holloway]

I suppose not. [Jade narrows her eyes, but in the end she relents with a simple shrug.] I give up. I can't promise anything, but who can blame me for wanting to know the name of a devastatingly handsome stranger in a deserted library? [She laughs. He is--if she absolutely cannot use the word "cute"--handsome, she thinks, in a young, lively kind of way. Her brother was like that, too, even though he was taller and broader than Mouse, having an athlete's build. He could beat boys much older than him in a fight, but never did unless he had to. Theo could never pick on anyone, and could never stand to see anyone being picked on. A knight in shining armor, defender of justice and champion of the weak, she used to tease. He'd always laughed it off, but it was true.]

[An exaggerated but good-natured roll of his eyes is Mouse’s only response to her insistence on calling him adorable. He’s got a bad feeling he’ll only dig himself into a hole if he keeps arguing at this point, and so he just goes along with it, pausing a moment to feign thinking over her offer.] Ya know - I reckon I do like that a bit better. Let’s go with that. [He grins, though it’s replaced by a slight frown. He understands her line of thinking; the nickname had bothered him when he was really young, but it had since become something used in irony by people who knew him well, and by the time he’d come to the Colony it had simply become who he is. He shrugs.] Oh - I dunno, I don’t mind it. Wouldn’t go ‘round using it t’introduce myself if I did, would I? [It’s amusing, if not a bit odd to hear the names she seems to think might suit him. They sound just as wrong as his given name has come to feel, but the playful smirk is back on his face as he shakes his head.] Nope. You wanna keep guessing or should I just tell ya? But - only if ya swear you’ll still call me Mouse. 

[jade--holloway]

Both, actually. The sad ones can usually be found in group—therapy, I mean—and [Jade affects a chipper, yet mechanical tone of a stewardess giving a pre-flight cabin address-] the stabby ones can be easily identified by the number of silver stripes on the band of their PDD. In the very unlikely event of an emergency, such as an attack by one of the said stabby ones, I recommend you calmly and authoritatively tell them to cut that shit out, because who’s got time for that. Also, please keep your PDD on for the duration of the flight, because how else would the Elites tell you what to do, make sure you’re getting to class on time, and generally keep their hands up your ass? Finally, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Thank you, and we hope you enjoy your flight! [She laughs.] A lot of people don’t seem to be cuckoo, but a lot of them are very good at hiding it.

[The redhead narrows her eyes playfully as Dez accuses her of abusing the dummy.] Ah, but I never said he was “less than” human, did I? Just that he wasn’t. For all we know he might be better than all of us. [She turns to the dummy.] Right, Wayne? [She affects another voice, deeper this time, making Wayne gesture emphatically.] Why, of course I am, you puny mortal. You should be thanking me on your knees that I deign to train you worthless lot in the ancient secrets of martial arts. [Jade turns back to Dez.] Mmm. Doesn’t seem very shy to me, or very peaceful. Maybe he’s just trying to look nice in front of you, Dez. [She laughs again.] Wayne, you old softie. You’re blushing, my friend.

[Sane. Oh he knew the word well. They were bittersweet friends. Sometimes he had a hold of it, like today, and other days it ran as fast as it could away from him. And as he chased and fought, the voices told him to let it happen — that he was weak and he’d lose and it didn’t matter anyway. So to hear Jade talking about not being sane after D-Day, well, Dez could take shelter in that. The only concern he had was what if you weren’t sane to begin with? That you were born backwards and what should keep you safe actually tried to kill you.]

[A trick.] [t r i c k] 

What do you mean by sane though? Do you mean that they are sad because they lost people they cared about and because of that they went a little [He paused, an index finger circling by his temple.] Cuckoo. Or do you mean mental as in really freakin’ mental? Like psychopathic I’m going to stab you mental? I’ve talked to a lot of people and they don’t seem to be cuckoo. I — [Tend to be the worse one, but today wasn’t about wallowing. STop it Dez, stop! You are okay. You are as free as pretty butterfly.] 

[His attention turned to the dummy and it was easy to do so when Jade’s hand cupped around its shoulder and he heard the clap of flesh against the outer coating of plastic.] Ah, Wayne. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I am very curious as to how it feels to get punched in the gob every day. [He leaned a closed fist by Wayne’s mouth, nodding slowly, thoughtfully.] Ah, yes, I figured it wouldn’t be pleasant. Let me report back to this madame here. [A glance at Jade.] They said they’d appreciate it if you’d stop calling him lesser than human just because he’s a shy pacifist.

[jade--holloway]

You know you do! Don't even lie. [Jade points an accusing finger in his face, her eyes still full of amusement.] See, this is why we never go anywhere. One of us makes a move or says something, and the other one has a perfect response all witty and ready to go. [She laughs, shaking her head.] Not that that's a bad thing. Just because I noticed your eye thing doesn't mean I can't appreciate it--although I imagine it does work better on unsuspecting virgins--and you pointing out that I noticed said eye thing doesn't mean that you don't consider me your dearest friends, now does it?

[With Jade things are different. Not in the way they are with Lake, when Ryder’s actually contemplating how another person feels— bleck— but in the sense that he’s never sure what he wants with her. Sure, sex would be great— he always wants that— but beneath the flirting and the damn-near having sex through their bedroom eyes, what is the point? He dismisses the thought as quickly as it enters his mind, because he can’t smirk the way he does when he’s actually thinking.]

I have an eye thing?

[He clings onto subtle hints. It’s how he analyzes people, how he gets them to bend to his will, how he gets people to make him bend.]

[jade--holloway]

[Jade knows who the woman is. Imogen Johansen-Falk. Well, she knows of her, at least. She knew who she was even before D-Day. The famous actress, beautiful, talented, perfect. She had had the very life Jade wanted. Even now, when their previous lives meant nothing, Jade couldn't help but feel the envy burning against her skin. Envy for the life the woman had had, for the one Jade herself could have had. (Or so she used to tell herself, as a struggling actress still trying to make it in New York City. As a walking cliche, not near as talented as the woman sitting across from her.) 

She remembers seeing a perfume ad with the woman on the side of a bus in Paris. A single look. That was all it took, all she needed, to make you fall in love with her. Her blonde hair, mysterious eyes, the angelic curve of her lips that you just knew would taste of your every desire. Women are either angels or whores--or so they said--but Imogen Johansen-Falk was neither. She defied definition. She was love and lust. She was perfection.

The redhead sees the surreptitious and the not-so-surreptitious glances in the room turn towards the woman, and not even the knowledge that some of those looks are meant for her ease the sudden heat in her blood. But as soon as the woman offers her a pretty smile, Jade gives one just as pretty, and just as sweet.] Hello. [She runs a carefree hand through her hair, her slender fingers sliding through the silky strands that catch the morning light, her fair skin glowing against the red.] You're the first person to say that, actually. You'd think they were feeding us arsenic, the way some people went on about it. Clearly they haven't seen my high school cafeteria.

[Humming an old french ditty she’d woken up stuck in her mind - Imogen’s in a pretty good mood. She can’t remember her dream but it was an odd little thing that has her humming a tune. Can’t have been terrible. At least she doesn’t look anywhere as dead as every other sorry sack in the room.]

[Although everyone had been through a decidely large stressor - noone was at their peak. Even as she hums the upbeat tune feeling like a morning person today Imogen still feels sort of old. Her prime years of youth behind her (wasted in ways others wouldn’t consider a waste) and her eyes are puffy. It’s only been happening in recent months. Being thirty, her body seemed to decide to give her bad bags in the morning. Not that the thought concerns her much.]

[It only pops into mind as she drops down into the first free seat she finds. Looking up to see a quite beautiful young woman without handbags under her eyes. It’s great that people give less of a shit about their appearance after D-Day but Imogen still notices some who do. But who can really be bothered this early in the morning with or without the end of the world? Crazy people, that’s who.]

[It’s probably just the pop of red hair making her look so animated. It only amplifies her morning-person mood. Her humming fades out as she smiles at this morning’s breakfast companion.[

[A broad inviting one which slides easily back into a lazier, more first-thing-in-the-morning appropriate one. She hopes they’re a talkative one. There’s far too many miserable fucks around here.] Good morning. 

Looks like the food isn’t complete shit today. [There’s almost a twinge of laughter to her voice now. Small talk was entertaining to no end. Especially as the choice of small talk here, in the cafeteria, all seemed to center around moaning about the food. Imogen’s being a wild one and going for something a little ‘optimistic’.]

[Maybe it’s the song. Difficult to start the day miserable when you woke up humming. Popping in a mouthful of the slightly stale toast with scrapings of fuck-knows on it —- and it tastes ok. Wunderbar.] 

[jade--holloway]

[Jade gives him a pretend curtsy.] Why, thank you very much, kind sir. I like to think so, anyway. I mean, just because I'm not entirely [she curls and uncurls in her fingers into air quotes-] "sane" doesn't mean my thoughts aren't valid in their own way, you know? My therapist thinks I have an overinflated ego but I happen to think that I have a pretty accurate sense of who I am. Like, how could he possibly know me as well as I know myself? I, fact, how could anyone of us know another better than they know themselves? Given the sheer complexity of the human mind, and the fact that we spend our entire lives trying to get to know ourselves, can anyone say they really know someone? Also, look around you, not many sane people. No one sane could survive D-Day. And if they did, they're certainly not sane anymore.

[She looks at the dummy she'd been practicing on.] Oh, just training with my good friend here. This is Wayne. [She claps her hand on the dummy's shoulder.] Wayne, this is Dez. See, Wayne isn't really [she lowers her voice-] "human," so he doesn't feel pain. [Human. How arbitrary. Not for Wayne the Dummy, but for the rest of them, surely.] Lucky bastard. But it works out well for the both of us, because you can practice on him all you like without anyone getting hurt.

[He kept his worries at bay and that was easy to do when there was a drug moving through his veins. He didn’t know the logistics behind it. He only knew that it was supposed to help him. His therapist had been kind to him when she first introduced the medication. Her words fell from her lips like a lullaby and it was hard for Dez to say no, despite the volume of the voices that clawed at his mind. Today, they were dull. Today, they were a hum that Dez could brush off as the wind.]

[Freakin’ finally.]

I don’t see why you can’t be your own kind of smart. People are smart in a variety of ways even if it’s bad things because that’s their personal knowledge. I’m sure you’re fine, Jade. [He wondered for a moment where he stood on those grounds, if he was like a super smart scientist held back by his conditions or if he was the average Joe, that if D-Day hadn’t happened he’d be a middle aged man in a wife-beater screaming for kids to get off his lawn.]

[Ew. No. Definitely the first option.] [But probably not.]

Um well, the answer to that is yes, I should be joining you for training. Whether that actually happens is as questionable as the shark and the bear debate. What have you been doing? Maybe it’ll perk my interest.

[jade--holloway]

[Jade rolls her eyes, remembering her first day in the Colony. Malnourished and terrified, fighting not to fall asleep as they interrogated her. It was an odd feeling. Terror and fatigue, both of them too extreme, too insurmountable to win over the other. The adrenaline in her blood had long been exhausted, and her eyes kept closing as she answered their questions, told them her name, how old she was, where she was from. She remembers her voice shaking as she notified them of her HIV. (The nurse--or whoever it had been, she didn't remember--stiffened at the word. They made her take a pill she didn't recognize. She was too tired, and too scared they might not let her stay to refuse.) She remembers watching them going through her meager possessions. The needles. The first several nights in the medical ward, before they sent her to the Delma dormitory with a brand new tattoo on her hand.] Better safe than sorry, I guess. But you'll get used to them. And they'll get used to you, too. We're a regular bunch of sweethearts, once you get to know us. [She smirks. The look is still too guarded to be considered friendly, but her deadpan delivery adds a kind of dry wit to her words. And the woman sitting across from her doesn't seem the touchy-feely type, anyway.]

[Bright red hair, a striking face with slightly wide-set eyes. Lex gets the feeling that, in another lifetime than the one they’re in now, this girl could’ve been a beauty queen.

It’s a slightly bitter-tinged thought. 

Lex had spent her teenaged years in a state of imaginary competition with her father’s other daughters, his real daughters. It could only have ever been imaginary, been foolish, because they hadn’t know that Lex had existed. 

Private schools, coming of age, pretty in much softer way than Lex had ever lay claim to, they’d been better than her in every way, by the metrics she’d used. And she’d watched them from afar until she decided that she really wanted to make him squirm, and so she’d orchestrated a chance encounter with one of her half-sisters, carefully crafted it into a burgeoning friendship, and watch him show up with the photographs in his hands from her ever-present watchdogs, demand with increasing ferocity that she cut it out. 

She’d always wanted to prove that she couldn’t be controlled. She was proud and she wouldn’t be caged. Those same instincts had her running, years later.

So many years gone, and she should have let it go. She thinks she has, mostly, but it’s still there, in the briefest flash of a first impression as she’s being scrutinized, not-quite smiled at. Greeted with what could be reluctance.

At the very least, it’s far from effusive.

Still, it’s hard to faze her. And in the face of an uncertain welcome, her smile simply becomes a little bit real, a little less forced.] Your lot really roll out the welcome wagon, don’t you? First I’m frisked and jabbed with needles, and now there’s hardly a friendly face to be found.

[She’s exaggerating. She’s sure that there might be many friendly faces, she’s just sat down across from this not-so-much one.]

[jade--holloway]

You got me. [Jade laughs. She had to hand it to the boy, he was smart.] That doesn’t change anything, though. You are adorable because I say so. Unless you’d prefer something along the lines of devastatingly handsome? [And also to his credit, the boy hadn’t been offended by her various remarks any one of which could have caused offense.] Well, if it is a nickname it’s not a very nice one, though, is it? [She gets it, sort of. The boy is small, like he said, light, and seems quick on his feet. It would’ve helped him, out there; you had to be quick if you wanted to survive. But here in the Colony, there’s less of an urgency to survive. Sure, the training and the discipline and the Games keep them on their toes, but they’re not on the constant brink of death anymore. (She sees the restlessness in the new survivors. All that energy, looking for a place to go. She used to be like that.) She looks at him, narrowing her eyes with equal amusement.] So what’s your real name, then? No, let me guess. Aaron? Sean, maybe? Brandon?

[Mouse narrows his eyes at her. She’s baiting him, he can tell, and while it’s working just a little bit he resists the urge to rise to it and instead shakes his head, though there’s nothing but amusement in his eyes.] No way. That’s just what girls say when they want a bloke to agree he’s adorable. Not gonna work, sorry.

[But he flashes her a grin before he quirks a brow at the way she plays at innocence.] I dunno, maybe I just had parents that were real interested in rodents. [He chuckles, then, dropping the charade to answer her honestly.] Nah, it’s not my real name, but - well I dunno, it sort of is. It’s what I’ve been called for as long as I can remember, apparently I was real small as a kid. [And he still was, hence why the nickname had never died out.]

[jade--holloway]

[PDD Message History] Jeremy Ascott + Jade Holloway

Jeremy Ascott: You're not a bitch. Please don't call yourself that. You're a lot of things. But not a bitch.

Jade Holloway: I was, though.

[jade--holloway]

Got your sights set on anyone?

Oh, I wouldn't say I have my sights set on anyone; I never plan these things beforehand.

[jade--holloway]

Give a piece of advice to someone in the Colony. How do you think they'd react if you said it to their face?

"I'd work on those trust issues of yours. Not everyone is out to get you."

He'd hate it, probably say I was the last person to be giving advice about trust. He'd be right, too, but oh well.

[jade--holloway]

[mun question]: people you think might be good for Jade and how?

I think she could benefit from someone more stable and calm. I’d also love to see a positive, mature female presence in her life. Imogen could be good for her, but I think Jade would be too jealous of her looks and talent. I talked to Jess about how Lex and Jade could be buddies since they’re both from Detroit. And they’ve had horrible father figures, now that I think of it.

[jade--holloway]

[Jade shakes her head, laughing. She gives the boy a playful push.] You are so full of yourself. [It's never anything more between the two of them; joking remarks, flirty glances. 'You said you prefer it that way,' a dry voice inside her head points out. Which is true, especially with Ryder. They're too similar, too wrapped up in their own conceited minds.] And you would be so lucky, Ryder Edevane. You'll have to try a little harder; I'm not as susceptible to your obscene tongue and that eye thing that you do. 

[She does prefer it this way. It's so much easier. She's been lost in her thoughts these past few days, weeks, she can't remember. At least he puts a smile on her face, even if it is a superficial one.]

[Ryder doesn’t let people into his headspace, because that’s dangerous. Because the moment they’re inside is the moment they can bend him the way he bends them and manipulate him in the same way he manipulates. His music is no different. He knows he doesn’t feel the way others do about most things, so he puts himself in the shoes of a character, similar to the way a novelist does. He makes a story of love and compassion when he finds no appeal in it himself. It makes for music he and others can enjoy without giving himself away.]

[Jade makes a comment about charming women, and Ryder just gives her his signature smirk, setting his guitar to the side.] Well, if you feel the need to throw yourself at me, I’m not going to stop you.

[jade--holloway]

[Jade wonders if she looked like that, when she first came to the Colony; rough and wild. To be fair she had always been rough and wild, but in a different way. She was less... feral. The woman looks around the cafeteria, obviously uncomfortable with her surroundings. 

Jade had been terrified her first day here, although she never would have admitted it. The Delma sign still new on her skin, she had walked down to breakfast with a smile on her face, demanding the attention of every single person she passed. But even all that attention--the longing gazes, jealous looks, the overeager introductions--wasn't enough to make her feel safe. The Colony is a difficult place to feel safe in, especially at first. All that talk of fighting, everything fixed and unchangeable. It actually made some people feel safe, she knew. But for others like her--the ones who hated relinquishing control--in made them feel trapped. (You got used to it. What other choice did you have?)

The woman sits across from her, setting down her tray. She attempts a smile and a hello. Aside from the lack of any genuine emotion--Jade can spot a fake smile a mile off--she senses something in the newcomer she can't quite place. The redhead observes her for a short moment before returning the greeting.] 

Hello.

[She walks to the cafeteria on newborn gazelle legs. Every step feels wavering. When her band of ragtag and dust-caked survivors had crossed into the Colony, they’d gently but firmly stripped her of all of her weapons — “you’re safe now” — and she feels like she doesn’t know how to walk without the guns holstered on each hip, the knife strapped to the outside of her thigh. Like her balance is just so slightly off.

She feels naked. Naked and hyperaware and overtrained. Too many years outside, too calloused, too impolite. Somewhere in there, when they were taking her small armory from her and inking her arm in red, she probably should have said “thank you.” Instead she was thinking, still is, that if she ever has to leave, she’ll have to figure out how to steal the guns back first. (Her guns, they were hers.)

She shouldn’t complain. She’s free of the grime that she’d carried around with her for years, camouflage and armor both. They’d given her a small stack of personal items, left at the foot of her very own bed. She’d combed out her wet hair and bid farewell to the snarls and tangles that had almost seemed like old friends. 

Her skin feels new and pink and cleansed, she’s light on her feet without a laden pack weighing her down, straps digging into her shoulder for day after day after day. And so, when she has her tray of breakfast — something that’s recognizably oatmeal and something that’s passing as coffee — and she’s setting it down at a nearby table, she flashes a smile, trying on something that’s as weightless as she should feel.] Top of the morning to ya.

[It comes out slightly sarcastic. This is going to take some getting used to.]