[ooc]
when u owe replies but you're intimidated by everyone's wonderful writing...
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@asinglechromosome
[ooc]
when u owe replies but you're intimidated by everyone's wonderful writing...
      Her cheeks tint pale rose with a blush, chin dipping into a nod.
     âI've read all of Madame Lutece's written work.â
          The confession comes as a gentle murmur, as if the fact stood as a notable secret, but there in pride laced in her tone, the accomplishment great in her mind. Of course, the majority still struck her as puzzling, hours spent pouring over the published diagrams and formulas proving to be fruitless in providing her with an inkling of understanding. No need to admit as much to the physicist, though.
     âI find the subjects to be fascinating.â         Â
"Have you?"
Amusement and warmth color his tone as he watches the little flush of pride and embarrassment that touches the girl's cheeks.Â
"You must be very bright, to choose such material."
He nods, almost to himself. Rosalind herself would likely find it too compromising to be gentle with the child, concede some small favor or recognition -- but she cannot afford to be soft. Robert has, in that regard at least, a little more liberty, and can make amends for both of them, when needed. Curiously, he muses. "Then, Miss Field, I wonder... of all your reading, what is it that draws your interest most?"
--sáŽáŽ ÉȘÉŽÉą ÒáŽáŽáŽ;
  While six long years had been a period of rebirth and regrowth for Robert Lutece, the very same six years had been spent in silence by Lady Comstock, who refused to prate and allowed silver-coated lies to slip from lips that had sworn never to sin. Thoughts hardly turned to the child that she had so carelessly abandoned to save her wounded pride. In the same respects, both Lutece siblings had been shunned by the good lady in both public and private. If either was at an event, Lady Comstock would suddenly find herself suffering from any ailment that she could think of. It had become a delicate dance between both parties; with gentle sidesteps and glances. Neither could touch, neither could truly glimpse the other lest the fragile balance that had been achieved through avoidance be shattered.The Lutece siblings were bold, the Lady Comstock was a coward. Wrinkles in the dress, cracks in the smile; it would do neither any good to rock the boat.Â
  The secrets held by the fractured party of four would very well likely be taken to the grave. The Prophet had made it quite clear that he would kill to protect his legacy; and the twins - not to mention his dear wife - were not exempt from that. Plurrimi fidelis. Her personal creed had never seemed important until now; and though Lady Comstock was unnerved by the inquisitive, cold, mirror-image stares and prodding ways of Robert and Rosalind, she hoped that the two shared some semblance of the motto carved into her heart. As much as she may have loathed the pair, she had no desire to see them dead.   Yet duty called. Parties were attended and the First Lady, arm in arm with her husband would occasionally shake hands with the woman she loathed and the man she had once respected. Robert had been much more⊠Receptive than Rosalind, verging on charming. Then again, he could afford to be. Unlike his sister, the brotherâs gender had ensured a lifetime of respect for his word. Where Rosalind was rigid, he could be pliable. She might have sought a friend and confidante in the man, as she sorely lacked companions. Yet the universe had other plans for all. Even though the man was related to the great whore, she might have swallowed such distaste had he not resembled her and exerted her very essence. Yet the Holy Mother was ultimately shallower than most; or equally as shallow, depending on the light she stood in. To be the Lady of Mercy was to be void of human err; and in the end, she was simply a woman.   With rigid stance did she regard the other, expression carved from rock. Cool eyes swept over vivid greens, unfeeling and full of particularly malicious intent that she could not act on for the sake of self-preservation. Unable to muster words, a disjointed nod of her head was given. Jaw clenched, teeth ground together as she struggled with emotions that racked her body and dragged her down. Having successfully hidden them for 6 years had done her no favours in the end, especially when faced with adversity.   A near minute of tense silence past between them as she struggled for cordial words to deliver to Lutece. Eventually, she swallowed down the bile and barrage of accusations that Rosalind had undoubtedly already spoken of. Eventually, she spoke; voice flat and tone as sharp as a double-edged sword.   âOf course I do. Unfortunately, Father Comstock is out. I can leave word if you wish, Mister Lutece. But Iâm afraid I cannot be of assistance.â Eyes landed on the highlighted tome, narrowing in displeasure. She could be a damn good lady when the occasion suited; and that line was getting easier and easier for her to cross. âWhat do you want?â
Silence and tension were no more strangers to the physicist than his own reflection in the mirror; moreso now than ever, his life was structured around them. Though he and his sister held quiet, musing conversations with each other throughout their work (and though now and then those conversations turned into something more like debate), it was hard sometimes to shake the simultaneously strange and natural feeling of talking to oneself. Pontificating into a space devoid of external influence - if that wasn't silence, Robert questioned what was.
Six years were enough to herald changes that, it seemed, were working insidiously to alter his perspective. The girl in the tower was... well, a girl â not an infant, less an idea sparked by desperation (divine or otherwise). A growing child, learning, laughing, singing, but shut away and monitored, named out of necessity more than scientific process. And though he was decidedly not inclined to bring up the needle of doubt with his sister, given her unchanged demeanor, he nevertheless had to admit its presence to himself. To ignore it gave it more power to grow, free from observation â a threat with potentially fatal consequences.
Lady Comstock held them accountable for an imagined transgression; Robert thought the real crime more damning, and more harmful to all parties involved. Yet in the end, he'd willingly taken on the responsibility, the guilt, the scorn and scandal. For Rosalind's sake â for on principle (or some unknowable will of the heart), he could not stand to let her face it alone.
So he would face these things with her. (Never for her; that was an act of gallantry, and she refused them all.)
He nodded his head in another slight bow toward the lady of the house, his eyes briefly closed in deference. Though her courtesy was strained with effort, a performance with such consistency that he admired her dedication to it, his was genuine. He bore no ill will toward the lady; if pressed, he would have had to admit his empathy. She was as much a figurehead as a wife and lady, as trapped by secrecy and precariously positioned as were he and his sister.
"I had thought to ask for... your input, personally, madam." He looked up at her, his arm held steady across his ribs once more. "But if you think a message best, I should have to defer to your better judgment," Robert said, almost gently.
[+ooc]
oh my fksfCign god i cannot even with rosalind's audio log in episode 2
i'm so upset
     Solace -- Scott Joplin
cxnstancefield answered:
       Almost sheepishly, she accepts the physicistâs offer with head bowed and dark curls falling to frame her her face like curtains, a bashful smile curling pale pink lips in an upwards arch. With delicate timidity, she slips her small gloved hand into his own, green eyes raised and wide to peer at the Lutece.
âThank you, Mister Lutece.â
His own half-lidded green eyes look back down at her, mildly interested, but not unkind. A shadow of a smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, and his hand closes around hers, light and reassuring, with every inch of gallantry his upbringing demands. Robert nods briefly, then lifts his chin above his collar, taking smaller steps to match the young girl's shorter gait.
"I'm sure it must rather be my honor to accompany you, Miss Field," he says, glancing down at her. "You are the writer of several agreeable letters to my sister, I believe?"
--sáŽáŽ ÉȘÉŽÉą ÒáŽáŽáŽ;
      Robert Lutece; physicist, well-to-do, brother of the Great Whore.   A new millennia was dawning. 1899; six years since the New Edenâs Jezebel had been unofficially forbidden from setting foot inside Comstock House for the sake of Columbiaâs Lady of Sorrows. The mother of the little bastard was not welcome in her home; and the Prophet did all he could to keep his discontent wife from spitting out the vile lies that scorched her throat.   With Rosalind out of the picture, communication was primarily done through the brother. The Lady Comstock had once held a great deal of⊠respect for the man. He was amiable; charming, suave, respectable. He had been easier to get along with, easier for her to understand. The respect she had fostered for Lutece might have grown into a friendship of sorts had the incident not happened. Shallow as she was, Robert had quickly lost any individuality as the rage she held quietly inside of her bubbled over. He had simply become another Rosalind, and that was unforgivable.  Though not Rosalind herself, Lady Comstock refused to greet Robert on the off chance he did come to Comstock House. But today â Well, when the First Lady strode into the parlour to fetch her always misplaced fob watch, she froze at the sight of freckled cheeks and slicked back hair, red as the sunset. Lady Comstock ran from a great many things; her former life was one of them, and the utter feeling of betrayal and failure brought on by the Lutece twins. So convinced was she that  the child was indeed Rosalindâs, that she refused to see that the child bore a resemblance to her in the end. It simply mocked the fact that she, the supposed Holy Mother, had not been able to produce a child. And Rosalind, the woman her husband spent more time with than she, his wife, was reflected in Robert to a T. Mannerisms, speech, stance and dress⊠He was certainly a reflection. Cold eyes flashed, looking over the physicist as she set her jaw. The air, already tense, seemed to grow heavy as the First Lady sized the other up, body tense and fists clenched.                ââŠWhat are you doing here, Mister Lutece?â
Six years.
They'd passed in both an instant and an eternity -- and there were various theories that could present that particular case as more than mere metaphor. Six years since he and the child had made Columbia their home. A rebirth, he thought sometimes, always with a wry twist of his mouth. How very apropos that he should spend the first days and weeks in the floating city as feeble and childlike as the infant he'd helped steal away... and were it not for his sister, he would still be as such -- or far worse.
Still, the secrets locked behind the heavy doors of their laboratory (and the ones that hung like deadweights above the delicate balance that filled Comstock House) had given rise to entirely new problems. They'd hypothesized, of course, but predicting human behavior was somewhat more challenging than predicting the course of a particle or the behavior of a quantum field. Robert found it most suitable when things were measurable - quantified, neat, and orderly. And men and women were yet, in all these cases, decidedly lacking.
Small wonder he had always preferred to work alone. Interpersonal conflict complicated the best laid plans, and what better example than the confrontation that had brought to light the false, but ugly accusations of infidelity and an ill-advised affair? He had not been present, arriving late to the scene and receiving the full account from his sister, who seemed entirely unperturbed by the matter. Robert had not shared her calm; that single difference itself concerned him almost as much as the rift in Columbia's holy family.
Speaking of...
It was the light footsteps, dignified and rightly so, then the soft rustle of fine cloth that drew his attention away from the bookcase where he'd been scanning lightly over the titles. He turned to face her, one arm behind his back, the other crossed over his stomach as he met her approach with a relaxed, manner-of-fact bow.
"The lady of the house," the physicist said evenly. "Please, forgive the intrusion, but I thought you might know better than I..." He straightened up, a hand gesturing vaguely toward the tall bookcase. "A suitable primer on ladies' etiquette."
Headcanon meme - send me a symbol and I'll describe my muse's...
⣠- hands
†- voice
Û” - feet
⊠- lips
Ăž - eyes
አ- nose
âź - body type
â« - singing voice
âź - sleeping habits
â - texting habits
âż - laugh
â - writing style
âš - time-wasting habits
â - keeping warm/keeping cool techniques
â - taste in music/literature
†- self care/first aid habits
âȘ - favorite food/eating habits
â - ideal holiday
â - nervous habits
â - sadness
â - ideal birthday
asinglechromosome started following you.
Her head tilted slightly to the side at his words, curiosity shining in her cold blue eyes. She had not missed the very subtle change in the tone of his voice but decided against questioning him about it. Something told her this subject was not one he was comfortable with. âI suppose it wonât be much of a problem, then" she finally said, nodding once. Whatever price she had to pay for her freedom wouldnât compare to what she had gone through in Rapture.Â
"You may rest assured we'll see it through, until you're settled," he said steadily. "We - that is, I... am where I'm needed."Â That felt wrong, he thought to himself, disturbed at the exclusion of his counterpart in his speech. He had grown so used to speaking as an entity, and not a solitary person, that to revert now seemed unnatural and completely foreign.
He inhaled once, his shoulders rising and falling as he lifted his chin again. He'd let that break in his composure show for too long. The girl would have noticed. Without Rosalind, his constant, Robert was beginning to grow unsettled, and he did not like the unease her absence provoked in him. He bent over the control panel again, hoping to distract himself, beginning to intently follow the wires from their dials back to their power source. He needed conductors to contain the field and shape it into the end goal of the tears, but if he didn't have a generator - or even a dry cell battery - there was no point in even looking.
asinglechromosome started following you.
There was hesitation in Eleanorâs movements as she stepped a little closer to the man, lost in thought. His words were reassuring but only slightly. It wasnât the âside effectsâ part that unnerved her -sheâd endured years of torture by the hands of none other than her mother and, technically speaking, she had teleported before- but the possibility of leaving Rapture, because as much as she would love to reach the surface, her only home was and always had been in the underwater city.
Was she really ready to abandon the place that had condemned her and everyone she had ever cared about? Was there a place for her on the outside world?
"I believe that wouldnât be much of a problem" she nodded, making up her mind. Deltaâs sacrifice wouldnât be in vain âIâll⊠do my best to handle whatever comes my way"
The redheaded man looked up from the panel, where he'd already located the couplings that joined the controls to their power source. The girl had more conviction and fortitude than even her first appearance had indicated. He wouldn't quite admit to being impressed... but interested, yes. Robert was definitely interested.
"The problem will be what it always is," he said dismissively. "But as for the handling of it, miss Eleanor, I have no doubt of your capability." He paused, considering his choice of words, holding himself still for a moment. He began again, slowly. "Besides which, it is always better to have with you someone who has experienced it before."
I put together some of my favourite Robert quotes. He isâŠ.so adorable?
asinglechromosome started following you.
A bemused expression crossed the young girlâs features but was quickly replaced by a blank mask. Eleanor had never liked showing more emotions than necessary, especially around someone she had only just met. After all, Rapture held many good liars that would attack at the first chance they got, and as harmless as he looked, it didnât mean he could be trusted. Not yet, at least.
However, his calm demeanour and polite manners were like a breath of fresh air, despite how professionally cold he seemed to be. Should she trust him, then? He might just be her only chance to reach the surface and Delta had made her promise she would leave Rapture with or without him, no matter the cost. Father was dead now, so that left Robert Lutece.
"Is there anyway you could take me with you?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice even, though the hopeful tone in it was quite obvious to the both of them.Â
Robert raised one eyebrow, slightly, looking up at the young woman again from the half-lit control panel his gaze had briefly turned to. The request had managed something rare - it had surprised him. Objectively speaking, he understood very well the desire that no doubt motivated her. The city was in obvious disrepair, almost certainly beyond redemption or restoration to its former self.
But to take another soul to Columbia, through a tear (if one could be produced, and that was a very large if)... the thought gave him some pause, especially after the guilt he still carried after the first one. Still, Eleanor appeared to be in complete control of her faculties, and certainly had the presence of mind to make a decision for herself. If, that is, she's properly informed.
The physicist rested a hand on the control panel, the other making a slight gesture of allowance toward the young woman. "If I'm able to reproduce the Lutece Field successfully here, Miss Eleanor, there's no reason you shouldn't be quite welcome to come along. It's certainly been done before," he stated wryly, his mouth almost curving into a sardonic smile. "Though, I must warn you, not without side effects."
asinglechromosome started following you.
Eleanor could swear the air was colder in this area than it was in any other part of Rapture. The several childish paintings on the deteriorated walls did nothing to ease the eerie atmosphere. If anything, it added to it.Â
The smell of decay was also stronger, especially when they passed the Little Wonders facility. Music could still be heard coming from inside the Little Sisterâs rooms and it gave her the chills. She couldnât remember much of her stay during the procedure to become one of the Gatherers but it still managed to creep her out.
Eventually, they arrived to Optimized Eugenics where most of things seemed to be intact, strangely enough. Eleanor didnât know if whatever he needed would be here but it was the least she could do. âWe are here"
As he glimpsed the childish paintings, Robert couldn't quite keep the distasteful, wary expression from his face (a slight hitch in the curve of his mouth, a faintly raised eyebrow, a wrinkle just to the side of his nose). The dismal appearance of the Little Wonders facade gave him an unpleasant feeling in the pit of his stomach, and the music he could faintly hear from within did nothing to ease his misgivings.
All told, it was a sight too close to another facility he'd had more part in than he liked to think of, even now. Rosalind would have chided him that there was little sense in dwelling. What was in the past was past - it could neither be altered nor argued with, and all things moved forward from it. Robert contended that they yet had the means to change that premise, but as of yet, she'd hear none of it. The physicist let out a brief sigh, watching the girl leading him carefully as they moved past the facility. She seemed equally uneasy, and he made a mental note of it.
The Optimized Eugenics facility seemed intimidating at first - this was technology beyond Robert's immediate grasp, though he didn't doubt its function would be fairly easily deduced. It seemed more concerned with genetics than physics, furthermore, which was more of a consequential study for Robert than a primary one - but perhaps some of it could be repurposed.
"My thanks, Miss Eleanor. I'm sure something useful will make itself known." He turned to his guide again with another slight bow. "As I stated, I am now in your debt. If there's anything I can help you with, slight though it may be...?"
asinglechromosome started following you.
Eleanor nodded once, taking the grasp of it. âSo you can Teleport, is that right?" It sounded crazy and in any other case she wouldnât have believed it. But then again he seemed serious about it and probably would care very little if she trusted his words or not. Itâs not like he had a reason to lie to her, either.
"Thereâs somewhere I could take you to not at all far from here. Please follow me and stay close."
Keeping a slightly quick pace, Eleanor led him through the battered hallways of Rapture, passing various vending machines and fallen buildings as they walked. It wasnât long before they reached Point Prometheus that still maintained the same cheery exterior.
A faint amused look crossed Robert's face, though it was not entirely unkind. He nodded his head toward the girl again. "Nothing quite so fantastic, but you've grasped the concept well enough," he replied.
As she led him deeper into the ruined city, he was careful to stay close to her. Without the familiar controls and idiosyncrasies of the incredible machine his sister had crafted, he was out of his depth (quite literally, he thought with a slight inward sneer). The dangers here were still a mass of variables, and the girl would certainly know them better.
When they stopped, the physicist lifted his head to get a better look around. The appraising expression on his face didn't change, but a few glints of light appeared in his eyes as he considered the area around them. Though it lay mostly in ruins, he could see that it held quite a lot of equipment and research material further in. Whether it would be enough for him to use remained to be seen.
asinglechromosome started following you.
Eleanor observed him as he looked around the room, or what was left of it at least. He didnât seem at all surprised by the unfamiliar surroundings. She couldnât even tell what he was thinking, since his expression barely changed.
"Quantum dislocation?" She may not know much about physics as her mother had mostly educated her on psychology and philosophy, but she was sure it had to do physical phenomena at microscopic scales.Â
"The complete transposition of an object in time and place, at the atomic level." The physicist tilted his head, inspecting a vending machine nearby that clattered with an out-of-tune but not unpleasant jingle. "Emphasis on 'complete,'" he added after a moment, then looked up at her.
"Miss Eleanor, I hate to impose on you, but I find myself quite without my usual recourse. If you were able to assist me in finding a laboratory, or some other medical facility, I'd be in your debt."
asinglechromosome started following you.
Eleanor had no idea what to say to him or how to react to his words. Sheâd never seen anyone display such formality in Rapture. Not that there were many people left to talk to, anyway, and the few that were still alive couldnât even form coherent thoughts.
âI see.â she finally said after a while. âMay I ask how you stumbled into this place?â
Robert carefully surveyed his surroundings, nodding almost unconsciously. The scenery was not entirely unfamiliar, and after a few moments of careful recollection, it came to him - the artwork on the sleeves of several records in Lutece Labs bore similar motifs to some of the decorative elements around him now.
He nodded again, lifting his chin with a bit of posturing. "If I had to hazard a guess, I'd be inclined to blame it on a bit of quantum dislocation." A small glance back at the young woman. "Disorienting, but harmless - when done correctly," he added.