#anaya: de luctus

[kip-whitmer]

de luctus | anaya & kip

@anayadolmen​:

[It’s a good thing Anaya has met Kip before, so when the curt answer comes, it doesn’t so much scare her off as it just confuses her. He seemed pretty friendly the other times they’ve talked, so there would be no reason for hostility now, would it? Before she can spiral too far thinking whether or not she’s done something aggravating to him, he explains himself, and she feels selfishly relieved that she’s not the reason for his bad mood.

She’s never been great company for empaths, she doesn’t think, so it’s ironic that today she is.] It’s okay, no need to apologise, [she offers back, lips curling up into a sympathetic smile, despite her hands still trembling from the initial scare of having someone join her so suddenly.

Her greenhouse will always be a refuge for those who need it – well, she probably has no say in it as far as the Elite will let her, but for now, as the supervisor of the construction, she’ll pretend she has this choice. She knows better than anyone the joy of seeking solitude along her greens, so she’d like to extend the courtesy to others, even if for now this is just another pile of rubble. They will fill it up and start growing things soon enough, she hopes. Construction has been going faster than she expected.] Of course, feel free, yes. I can imagine. I was just, [she looks down at her hands, then shrugs off the end of the sentence, unsure of how to explain that she’s been simply obsessing over details and cleaning the place up a bit. Then, as she realises she might be interrupting his plans,] oh, would you like me to leave you alone? 

[She doesn’t seem particularly perturbed by his blunt response -- people often aren’t, because Kip’s never cut a terribly intimidating figure, but Anaya always seems sort of jumpy. Once the initial shock fades from her, though, her mood drops to something far more gentle.

It’s nice. He’s not got the energy to block anything out right now, so a little neutrality is good. Usually Kip can put up some walls around his Infection, but when everyone feels this bad it’s just too heavy for him to combat. She seems genuinely not to mind if he stays, so Kip nods and makes himself comfortable on the stone floor. It’s soaked up a little of the day’s weak sunlight, so it’s not too cold. 

Usually Kip eats with gusto -- he’ll use the ‘growing boy’ excuse at least till he hits 5′8 -- but today he peels the wrapper back from his cereal bar slowly, fiddling with the foil edges and finding he’s not got much appetite anyway. Anaya offers to leave, and Kip glances up for a brief moment.] 

No. [It’s a noncommittal word, delivered with a lazy shrug of one shoulder, like he doesn’t care. And then he decides that actually, he does care, and he continues with more conviction:] No. Can you stay? Can you tell me about the plants, or whatever? Like what you wanna grow and stuff?

[He’s not interested in plants, or botany, but Anaya is. He selfishly wants her to feel good, and people tend to feel good when they talk about the things they love.]

[bodelevy-lindqvist]

de luctus || anaya & bode

anayadolmen​:

[Most Elites have that quality about them, she thinks bitterly: they don’t like to listen unless it’s the sound of their own voice. They write her off easily, ignore her like she’s nothing but a barking dog on the good days – and then when she loses her mind and demands to be heard, then she’s too emotional, too unstable to work the labs, of course. It’s bullshit. Anaya feels no sympathy for his apology, his words tinted with sarcasm still, but she nods along like she accepts it all the same. She’s good at staying out of trouble. She’s good at staying non-confrontational. She shoves all of her angry little thoughts into a bottle in her chest and lets them simmer there.

His reasoning about not having as much pull with the other officials seems like a cheap excuse. They all listen to each other better than any of the outsiders, they exist in this sort of circle-jerk of authority, even if they’re not all equals. Bode can say he doesn’t have this kind of power, but he still won’t be immediately disregarded on most subjects like Anaya is.] 

… Thank you. [As much as she wants to tell him not to call her miss, just for the sake of arguing, she’s grateful for the sentiment. Wariness creeps in, her round eyes watching him as she tries to figure out if he really will search for it, or if he’s just messing with her by saying that. But he asks for more information, which at least indicates he’s willing to humour her even if he’s bullshitting. She can appreciate that.

Silently, she moves over to over of her shelves, opens up her handy notebook and scribbles on the corner of one of the pages.] There are some books in the library with pictures, but it’s basically like this. [She rips the small piece of paper and hands it to him, showing a drawing of a flower with some leaves. She’s no artist, but botanic drawing has been a useful hobby to pick up for her career, so she’s good at depicting the greens.] Almost like a daisy, but the yellow centre is wider and looks like a fluffy donut, smaller petals. Usually happens in bushes, so they’re all pushed together. And the leaves are kind of… remind me of parsley, I suppose. So. [It almost pains her to be grateful, when she’d been so ready for a fight a moment ago – when in reality, any actual confrontation from his end would likely reduce her to tears. She bites down her pettiness and wills her anger to deflate with a sigh.] Thank you.

. 

[Bode watches as she moves over to one of the shelves, rummaging through it until she finds what she’s looking for. Something about her reminded him of Dot. He wasn’t sure if it was the large eyes or the anger but either way, he found it difficult to be agitated by them. Even if they did speak in a less than pleasant tone of voice. [Bode watches as she moves over to one of the shelves, rummaging through it until she finds what she’s looking for. Something about her reminded him of Dot. He wasn’t sure if it was the large eyes or the anger but either way, he found it difficult to be agitated by them. Even if they did speak in a less than pleasant tone of voice.

He takes the scribbled drawing from her, perusing the image before glancing back at her.] You don’t have to thank me. It’s the least I could do for your help. [He glances back at the drawing, smiling slightly at the delicate lines.] Fluffy donut, I will remember that.

[He really will. He’ll remember the way she said it, the way it instantly painted an image in his head. Bode has always been a visual person, whether he wanted to be or not. Lessons are easier when painted across your face in red and blooming purples. Bode tucks the image into his coat pocket, treating it delicately as if it was made of glass.] Well, I think I will let you get back to…cleaning was it? If I find what you’re looking for I’ll make sure to have it delivered to you as soon as possible. [He will send a merchant probably, he’s not one for running errands. Following the chore rotation was annoying enough as it was.]

See you around, Miss Anaya.

FIN.

[bodelevy-lindqvist]

de luctus || anaya & bode

anayadolmen​:

[If Anaya was in any more sour of a mood, she might take the criticism of her humour to heart, but today, she chuckles it off with a simple shrug. Her humour hasn’t quite recovered from spending several years stranded in space with only one Romanian man, she’s aware. She doesn’t make an enormous effort to change that, clearly, with the way she avoids any new friendships within the Colony.

She doesn’t think much of seeing him approach her from the corner of her vision until he’s grabbing her wrist. She’s not all that used to having strangers standing this close, let alone grabbing her, so she startles at the touch and feels her muscles stiffen.] I’m not nervous, I just make a lot of noise a lot of the time, [she answers, something petulant in her tone. It’s not the great comeback she thinks it is – it’s just the truth. Even when she’s trying to be quiet and go under the radar, there’s a tendency to make more noise than she intends. She likes to blame it on gravity, and getting used to it again, just for the sake of blaming something else.

His answer about needing some peace and quiet softens Anaya’s expression, though, and she quickly nods.] Makes sense. Well. [She motions around, at the greenhouse, her own safe haven.] This place is always open. [She’s been meaning to bring more purpose to this space anyway, to do something good now that she has a sliver of power within these walls.]

That’s a good metaphor, yeah. [Her voice is quiet, lips pursing in thought for a brief moment. She hadn’t even realised that she felt like that, not wanting to slow down, but feeling guilty for moving faster than everyone else in their grief, it seemed. There wasn’t much one could do, at least not one like Anaya, who barely had a grip on her own emotions, let along being able to handle others’.] All we can do is give our best, I guess. Not interfere with their mourning. Keep out of the way. [She shrugs. A lot of her behaviour naturally boils down to staying out of the way, so she’s biased.] I’m no good with words of encouragement, so I’m not the best person to answer that, but that’s my guess. [A pause, and then,] Also, you should get some actual meds for your headache, once you go back in there. These things can be a bitch. Maybe tell them you wish the greenhouse had some feverfew while you’re at it. [She might as well shoot her shot making an Elite ask for more things, maybe other officials would hear him.] 

.

Miss Anaya, I don’t mean to be rude [Sure he does.] but exactly how is the greenhouse supposed to be a quiet oasis when you’re in here clattering around? Unless we set days I’m here and you aren’t, like a schedule. [He smiles at the small woman, leaning in close as if they are conspiring some devious plan.] Would you prefer Fridays or Mondays? Unless you prefer Wednesdays? I’m a Thursday man myself.

[This is easier, the teasing, this part he can play well. It’s the grief, the waves of sadness and puckered faces he can’t stand. It might not be as quiet as he hoped but this place was proving to be more comforting than the rest of Belvedere. For now, even if only for an hour or two, he could put the fear of community collapse on pause. Instead he pulls focus on the woman in front of him. He smiles at her again, this time he lifts a hand to swipe at a bit of dirt on her cheek.]

I find it interesting that an astronaut doesn’t know what to say in the face of death. Accepting space travel is accepting one's mortality, isn’t it? Or is it the type of acceptance that you delay until actually faced with its consequences? [He monitors Anaya’s expressive brow for a reaction, her face often colored with whatever emotion she was feeling. She was right, she’s an incredibly loud person even when laying perfectly still. He wondered how people lived like this, their hearts on their sleeves for anyone to ravage. He wondered if it made her braver than him or a fool.]

[‘Maybe tell them you wish the greenhouse had some feverfew while you’re at it. Bode sighs, a heavy thing as he pulls back, hands grasping the cabinet behind him. He takes in her slight form as he thinks what to say next.] If you wanted something from me, Anaya, all you had to do was ask. [He looks at her as if disappointed.] You don’t strike me as the type of woman who hides behind another man’s wishes.

If you want something, ask me for it.

[bodelevy-lindqvist]

de luctus || anaya & bode

anayadolmen​:

[The main thing Anaya doesn’t enjoy, being back on Earth, is this dance around socially acceptable behaviour. It feels like a dance to her, at least, and she’s always been tragically bad at dancing. She’d spent years with only Costin by her side, years as the last two people alive, they’d become extensions of each other. It’d been easy to talk, to act however they wanted to, without worrying about judgement. Talking to people now feels like re-learning how the entire human race works, herself included, and it makes her nervous in ways her therapist has not yet been able to help. And the petty part of her doesn’t want to make friends, some half-assed effort to prove Constantin wrong and say that it’s not good down here. But at the same time, she is lonely. It’s human nature, she thinks, to reach out even against one’s will.

With Bode’s eyes on her, she doesn’t let her gaze linger, and allows him the privacy of not being stared at again. She wonders if she should leave him alone entirely, offer the greenhouse for some solitude, as she’s sure it must be what he’s after. But he thanks her for the rosemary stem, and he sounds genuinely grateful, at least.]

Oh. [She exhales, surprised by Bode’s voice, looking down at her sweater even though she already knows he’s right. This is something familiar, something from the Anaya from before, too – she’d always found it difficult to keep from getting messy with her work. Half of the fun was in being in direct contact with nature, so she’s unbothered by the stains that will surely not last after a wash.] Yeah. It’s… we have this thing called a washing machine. So it gets to be cleaned eventually. [It’s supposed to be a joke, but it comes out too dry, like her humour often is. The small smile she offers hopefully makes up for it.] I’m actually a big fan of lunch. [Starving in space made her hyper aware of the privilege of having a plate of food every day. She clears her throat, eyes nervously back on her plants as she moves over to the propagation shelves, checking on her jars.] Today just felt like… a lot. I didn’t know him, y'know. Kaiser. [She selfishly hopes Bode didn’t, either, so she doesn’t sound rude blurting this out.] So I felt weird being in there. Like an impostor. You?

[Bode tilts his head to the left, watchful as much as curious.] If that was a joke, Miss Anaya, I’d work on your delivery. [He sets aside the rosemary stem, before pushing himself upright.] I might have to make use of such contraption once I leave this place. [He picks dirt off his coat, the brown smearing across the expensive black wool, he scowls at the sight of this. The truth was, Bode didn’t trust anyone to clean his clothes for him, not his coats anyhow. He’d hand wash them before hanging them to dry in his suite. It was safer that way with so many pick-pockets working the laundry rotations. People can call him a snob all they liked, at least he wouldn’t be out of a coat.

He looks up from his coat to catch sight of the astronaut busying herself with jars, her rambling returning in full force. His head wasn’t throbbing anymore which he considered a plus but her rate of speech was beginning to get on his nerves. He supposed he only had himself to blame for his curiosity. He hops down from the counter and makes his way towards the brunette, gently stilling her left hand with his own.] You make a lot of noise when you’re nervous.

[He looks down at Anaya, not purposely, she’s just smaller than him, that isn’t his fault.] But to answer your question, I had a headache and needed some peace and quiet. I assumed the dining hall full of grieving people wasn’t a great option for me. Hence..[He makes a lazy motion towards the vicinity of the green house. He almost leaves it at that, deciding maybe he enjoyed guilting her for disrupting his plans but he finds himself less inclined after her help with the rosemary. The loud clanging in his head was slowly departing. He tucks his large hands into his coat pockets, eyes finding hers once more.] 

I know what you mean though, about feeling a bit like an imposter. You don’t want to seem disrespectful for not slowing your day down for them but it also feels wrong to take things at their pace as well, as if your sloth hangs on the reigns of your sadness when you have no sadness to speak of. Not towards Kaiser anyway. [He decides to let the man speak for himself, the cloud of misery he left in his wake proves he was loved, possibly charmed by, but whoever he made an impact on, Bode and Anaya hadn’t been affected.] So I suppose the question is. Where does that leave the rest of us?

[bodelevy-lindqvist]

de luctus || anaya & bode

anayadolmen​:

[Anaya, like the astronaut. That’s sort of a new one, and she likes the sound of it. It’s not unheard of, for people to recognise her and Constantin’s name, their story was far too crazy to not make the rounds around the Colony. But she usually gets “Anaya, Costin’s friend” more than she gets Anaya, the astronaut. She doesn’t mind it either way, but the change is nice.

Her lips pull into a smile, something equal parts sympathetic and proud.] Yeah. Like the astronaut.

[She notices his eyes closing, and she allows herself the moment to look at him, MILDLY concerned, before her own gaze is averted again to lend him some privacy. Curiosity is one of her many cardinal sins, but she won’t pry. She understands the feeling of simply needing a moment to recollect, sometimes, so she can extend the courtesy of silence now that they’ve exchanged introductions.

Bode’s question brings her back to the conversation, eyes squinting as she thinks.] Yes. Well– shit, I told them we should get feverfew, [that last bit is mumbled under her breath as she drags her hands down her sweater to hastily wipe them off. Moving over to another row of pots, she checks on her herbs.] I can offer you some rosemary. [She plucks a tiny stem, and offers it to him.] Just smell it, if you believe aromatherapy. I’d personally suggest chewing on it, or brewing a cup of tea. It’s not a cure, but it helps. I can also get you some mint or ginger, if you’re feeling nauseous or ill in general.

[Having had the ability to render himself almost invisible to the human eye, he’s become more aware of how heavy the human gaze can be. It was possible he learned this observation before orange gas transformed his physiology but it became more apparent afterward, the weight of being visible—viewable to just anyone. It made Bode feel vulnerable. To be seen is not the same as being known, he knew that, but it sure as fuck didn’t feel that way.

So maybe that’s why Bode retreated into his corner as he listened to Anaya move closer, her rambling growing louder and louder until she was in front of him. She smelled like soil, not dirt exactly, but minerals and rain. It reminded him of running through Lindqvist Manor’s labyrinth, grass flecks sticking to his leather boots.]

[He opens his eyes slowly, blinking to adjust to the light streaming through the greenhouse. He’s welcomed to the sight of Anaya, eyes wide and bright, a fleck of worry pulling at her brows. She reminded Bode of a fairy, dirt littering her sweater and fingers, hand outstretched with a single stem of rosemary like a peace offering. He doesn’t really smile at her, but his face softens slightly. Bode reaches for the rosemary, fingers gently brushing over hers before pulling away entirely.] Thank you. [Bode brings the stem to his nose, the smell fresh and at first overwhelming. After a few seconds he grows accustomed to the strong scent, he watches Anaya from beneath long lashes.]

There’s dirt on your sweater. [And then.] Do you make it a habit of avoiding lunch or is it just today’s festivities that have you hiding?

[bodelevy-lindqvist]

de luctus || anaya & bode

anayadolmen​:

[Stop, he says, and Anaya finds herself obliging, lips snapping shut even if her eyes are still wide. Still, despite the sharpness of his tone, he doesn’t seem to pose an immediate threat, so the humming-bird-like flutter of her heart can do its best to slow down.]

Sorry. [She repeats again, for no reason in particular, since the man doesn’t seem genuinely too bothered by her brief rambling. Either way, there’s always one thing or another she feels apologetic for, excuses falling from her lips before she can keep them in. 

Bode is not a complete stranger, but all she knows is his name. She’s seen him before, on the times she’s snuck into Torren territory to be with Constantin, but they’ve never been properly introduced. She’s never been one too attached to manners, but it does bother her that they’ve never been properly introduced, and now they’re sort of hanging out. His wish to have her pretend he isn’t there is a clear one, and she nods silently and continues on her task of cleaning out the dirt around the greenhouse, at first.

She lasts all about half of a minute biting her tongue, before she speaks up.] I’m Anaya. [Her voice is quiet, and she gives him the benefit of keeping her eyes on the plants, in case they both want to pretend she never said anything.]

[Bode moves to a corner of the greenhouse where the workbenches are located, he’s making himself comfortable on the counter of one when he hears the young woman speak. Anaya. He squints at her from where he’s seated, partially from pain but mainly from her disregard to his earlier statement. Why was it when he wasn’t in the mood to talk people pushed at him and when he wanted company he was met with anger and caution?]

[He leans back against the workbench, the cold metal pressed against his spine bringing some kind of comfort to him. It’s in this comfort he’s able to think through the headache crawling under his eye sockets. Anaya Dolmen, one of the two remaining astronauts in existence. She wasn’t particularly useful for Bode to know, nor was her partner, Constantin, as far as he was concerned they were just more bodies in the pyre.] Anaya? Like the astronaut?

[He doesn’t look at her, he doesn’t look at anything in particular before closing his eyes. Bode has grown accustomed to finding peace in the dark, the quiet and the ruined. For a long time he doesn’t say anything at all, reveling in the quiet but the woman had a nervous energy to her that made her incapable of enduring silences for long. Maybe being stuck on a space shuttle after the world ends has that type of effect.] Bode.

[He didn’t bother giving his full name, he stopped after the third person he met butchered it with clumsy tongues.] I don’t suppose there’s anything in here that can cure a headache?

[bodelevy-lindqvist]

de luctus || anaya & bode

@anayadolmen​

[It’d be an understatement to say that the heaviness of the mood in the Colony today can be felt in every single corner of the place. Or maybe it’s just that Anaya feels so uneasy that the sentiment follows her like an insistent cloud above her head. The announcement about Kaiser’s death feels like something more ominous than it should be, her PDD feeling heavier than usual. If before, these walls have felt constricting, today they feel suffocating. Mourning fogs up the space of the cafeteria, and one doesn’t need to have empatheia to feel it in the air. She’s pretty sure not everyone is mourning Kaiser directly – his death just seems to feel like something else, something that’s brewing.

Her only impactful encounter with the man had been when she’d gotten kidnapped by him in the last instalment of the Games, which hadn’t exactly been a pleasant time. Guilt is no stranger to Anaya, and she feels it today, for not grieving. Maybe some other time she’ll feel the impact of his death for what it really is, maybe one day she’ll understand the turmoil that runs in everyone’s veins since the announcement first lit up on their screens. But for now, she does what she always does best, and sneaks out in an attempt to isolate herself, away from all the discomfort. It’s easier to go look at the greenhouse project, kick around rocks and inspect details of the construction for the hundredth time, than to sit inside and listen to all the worried murmurs and whispers going around.

Not expecting company, she startles as she turns around to see someone. With a handful of debris and dirt in her hand, it’s not like she’s doing anything wrong, but she still feels like she’s been caught red-handed. She has skipped lunch time, to be fair, but that should hardly be an offence, she’ll get snacks later.] Oh, shit. Hi. [The curse comes out before she has the chance to bite her tongue, and she clears her throat, embarrassed for it.] Sorry, I thought everyone was at lunch. I’m just cleaning up here before the afternoon shift. I’m– I already ate. 

[Grief was an ugly thing, an animal that burrowed under your bones and hibernated for years. Every now and then it would poke its head out, sometimes it was quiet, sometimes it roared in your ear until there was nothing but pain. An oil spill coating you and the life around you. Bode wasn’t a stranger to grief, in fact he’s been consumed by it for as long as he can remember. Instead Bode became a stranger to everyone else.

Kaiser’s death was unexpected but Bode didn’t know the man, nor did he want to. He’d heard him more than ever saw him, the effect he had on the infected. He was boisterous, the type of man that sucked in all the atoms in the room and threw them out like daggers.

Bode knew well enough that men like that don’t live long.

It’s the implication of his death that has Bode on edge. He knew first hand what grief could do to a single person, imagine that pain amplified by hundreds. A match dropped on oil, an ocean on fire. It wasn’t an image Bode was particularly fond of.

Maybe it was his overactive imagination or maybe it was the anticipation of the world going to hell a second time but Bode had a headache slowly growing into a migraine. He knew he should head to the dining hall where Espen was likely waiting for him but he couldn’t focus, much less force himself to eat. Instead he makes a detour to the Greenhouse, an area he’d purposely avoided for the longest time. He didn’t like the way the green reminded him of his mother’s hothouse. That damn fucking hothouse.

He’d hoped to sift through his thoughts in silence and solitude but he should know better by now. This island was crawling with people, the proof stood before him, tongue-tied and red cheeked.]

Stop. [He let’s out a shaky laugh, whether in disbelief or pain is uncertain.] I don’t care why you’re here. [It comes out harsher than he means it to be but at this point he’s too frustrated to care.]

Pretend I’m not here.