l’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux

nadia chasen, twenty-nine. unregistered praeteric & survivor at colony 22. there may be a great fire in our soul, yet no one ever comes to warm himself at it, and the passers-by see only a wisp of smoke. ― vincent van gogh

[nadia--chasen]

I don't ever wanna leave 

I'll watch you sleep 

[nadia--chasen]

missteps | nadia & open

[It’s only been a short time since she’s gotten her PDD from Pax, and decided what house crest to add to her wrist. Koda has yet to sit down with her for the real version---which will no doubt be quite painful---but she did sneak into a Delma dorm in the afternoon, and spend some time comparing her drawn ink handiwork to one on the wrist of someone taking a nap. She thinks it is passable, at a distance.]

[And enticed by the lights and noise of the Catch, she decides in the evening’s confusion it might be worth the risk.] 

[She does love to dance.]

[It’s only a half hour later when she removes herself from the dance floor, with no one stopping her the entire time. A few partners, here and there, but no one bothered talking and they certainly hadn’t asked questions. Panting and exhilarated, she steps off to the bar. The bartender, Crane, has been a friend of hers for some time, although he doesn’t know it.]

Water, s'il vous plaît. [She darts a glance to her left, buoyed by a sense of euphoria. No one could drag her down, not even if they tried. She finally feels as though she is truly one of them.] A beautiful night, isn’t it? A beautiful night!

[nadia--chasen]

clean getaway | nadia & mira

mira-sigar​:

[Mira gives her a smile. She doesn’t know how to respond. Is it a request? She doesn’t think so. Is it a command? She’s unsure. Can Mira say know? The only part of her that doesn’t want to say no isn’t because her programming is telling her she has to say yes, but because there’s something about the look she gives her and the tone of her voice that Mira is almost worried about hurting her feelings if she says no.] If it comes to that, perhaps I will take you up on that offer. But for now, I am functioning normally and while you say we could find some place safer, we may end up in the Wastes. And there isn’t anything safe about the Wastes.

[She smiles again, head tilting to the side a bit.] Oh, alright. Well, I’m glad we are friends. My name is Mira. What’s your name? [She could be wrong, but she felt like it was good for friends to know each others names.

Mira nods.] Alright. Well, I’m in Calyset if you ever need anything. [She becomes rushed and Mira has been there; she’s gotten lost in chores and forgotten about going to meals or meetings.] Oh, okay. I’m sorry for keeping you, I would hate for you to be late. If you end up late, you can just tell whoever it is you’re meeting that I kept you. I would hate for you to get in trouble because we spent time talking. It was really nice to meet you. [She says with a smile. And to think, she walked in here just to get some chores done, and now she was walking away with yet another friend. How exciting.]

[She can’t disagree. There isn’t anything safe about the Wastes, it’s worse than she could’ve imagined---being on her own had so many hazards, many that she hadn’t even anticipated. For most of her life she’d always been surrounded by family and community, protected. To have it all stripped away, and herself shunted to a distance she didn’t even know how to cross initially to get back into this world, had been utter horror.]

[But her life had found some kind of slow order to it, as a scavenger. Nadia is careful not to become too predictable here, where there’s a different set of dangers. Being noticed would be perilous.]

[Luckily, it seems her Praeteria affects androids, as well.]

[She would be surprised by that if she gave it a little more thought---because what would Mira’s eyes be if not sophisticated cameras? She knows she can still be detected by machinery. But at the moment she is more relieved that her excuse hasn’t been questioned. She smiles warmly.] My name is Nadia. It was very nice to talk to you too, Mira. [And it has been.] Don’t worry, I am sure they won’t be angry that I am late. [She adds, not wanting to leave the android with the perception that she’d been anything but helpful.]

---end.

[nadia--chasen]

now you see me ᚹ koda & nadia

kxdapaync​:

[[ She asks where he’s come from, the way she says it though it makes him only wonder more about her. ]] Ipswich. I was born in Essex, actually, not far from where I holed up after D-Day. I was living out in the ‘wastes’ for a few years, then they made it mandatory for people to register and my group was found and brought in. [[ He turns on her with a curious look, he’s a believer in sometimes not knowing the full story could work in the favour of keeping secret. But Nadia said she got so lonely, and he’s putting himself on the line by agreeing to help — he’s allowed a selfish question. ]] What about you? How did you come into the Colony without… [[ Koda tips his head towards his hand in hers, the brand on his skin. ]]

Deluded are people who have… lost themselves. Some I think claim to have powers but mainly it’s people who believe something very different from reality. There’s a person for example who believes he’s a werewolf. It’s… I’m not a fan of them being ‘branded’ as Deluded. It seems cruel but it’s a distinction made you would probably be aware of if you were brought in here officially.

[[ When she suggests he gives her a tattoo he nods, already figuring its a good idea and perfectly possible. ]] I mainly think Delma’s a good choice mainly because the Head of that house is the only non-reformist. Delma or Brink would suit you, I think, but the Head of Security is also in Brink along with a reformist head of House… It’s up to you, though. [[ Koda explains, for full transparency’s sake. ]] But I do agree, I’m certain any of them would look very pretty on you. [[ He compliments her because compliments come easy to Koda, it’s not meant to be flirtatious in any way, simply the kindness he offers everyone. Plus she is adorable: simply beaming. What an odd creature, he’d half believe she were truly a mythological creature who thought him worthy a visit.  ]]

I can give you one. It will look different, though to one given with a branding gun or machine. If you look too closely you’d see the tiny dots but it’s definitely possible to make one that’s passable from a quick glance. [[  Koda pauses in thought, he never tried to emulate a machine style, he liked the handmade feel of stick and pokes. ]]  It’ll bloody hurt.

[Essex is familiar to her ears---at least she knows it’s in England. That’s about as much as she recognizes, and she has no idea of the culture he might’ve come from just based on the place names, but she assumes it means this is at least in some ways his home.] 

After my town was burned---Rochefort-en-Terre is very small, you would not know it unless you live close---but after it was gone, I was by myself for most of the time. Because I... didn’t know how to be seen, when I wanted to? It takes time for me to learn. I come with a group to Nantes, and there I sat in classes and I learned more about it. Then I was almost caught, so I got on a boat and when it stopped, I got off here. [It’s a simplified version of the story, glossing over the bits she doesn’t wish to talk about, even to Koda. Not yet.]

[The concept of the Deluded strikes her suddenly as vaguely familiar. Had she heard mention of that, people who had lost themselves? Perhaps, but the terminology was different in French. Nodding solemnly, she decides to mull this over. Still, she’s grateful to know.] Thank you for telling me. [She remembers Mira, her friend the android, had a D in her crimson mark, presumably for this reason. Frowning to herself, she decides to learn more about it later---they have details left to discuss here and now, she shouldn’t get distracted.]

[She considers any potential difficulty---would it be easier if he had a reference, had his own tattoo right there to compare the one he put on her? Maybe... but the Reformists, and the Head of Security are in his house? They sound like precisely the people she wouldn’t wish to cross paths with.] I think Delma is better, then, yes. [Lighting on an idea, she taps his thigh with her fingertips, almost rhythmically with her excitement.] I can copy one from looking at someone else, to make sure it is the same size and has all the same shapes. 

I got one on my shoulder when I was eighteen--- [She shrugs the loose collar of her shirt over one shoulder, so he can see the design.] Drawn by my painting teacher. It was not done like yours, with the small needle, [she clarifies. Then with growing resolve:] But I’m not afraid. It will be worth the pain of one day, to feel safer, and truly start again here.

[nadia--chasen]

clean getaway | nadia & mira

mira-sigar​:

[Mira’s brow furrows a bit and her head tilts to the side.] I’m… unsure. I believe Mr. Sigar created my skin special so it would appear and feel real. I don’t recall what he used for my inner mechanisms but I believe the materials are light enough for me to be able to move around as quickly and quietly as I can.

It’s alright, I love answering questions. [most people don’t apologize to her. It’s nice that she even thinks to do that.] I’m unsure about my emotions. I have been trying to figure that out. I’m unsure if they are just aspects of my programming or I am designed to mirror what other people show and feel. Or perhaps I am evolving and these are truly my own feelings. I am unsure. There are also some things I say that I equate when describing certain thought or actions of mine to what a person might be feeling, like worry. I’m unsure if what I feel is worry is the same as what you might feel.

[Her hand brushes against Mira’s cheek, but she only blinks. She doesn’t pull away, she doesn’t give her a weird look. Because it’s gentle, it’s clear that she’s just being kind and there’s nothing that Mira needs to worry about.] oh, thank you. That is very kind of you. But I couldn’t ask you to leave the colony for me. It’s much safer here than it is in the wastes. And I wouldn’t want you to leave the people you care about. Especially not for me; for someone you don’t even know and for someone who isn’t even alive. It is my main directive to help people, and taking you away from somewhere safe with meals and other people would essentially be the opposite of helping you. But it is very kind of you to offer. [out of the corner of her eye, she can see Nadia’s wrist. And she notices she doesn’t have a tattoo. Or even a PDD.] I haven’t seen you around before, have I? [its not accusatory, it’s just a genuine question.] What house are you in?

[Nadia finds herself looking for hints as Mira speaks, scanning for small tells if they exist. The construction is utterly seamless, and fascinating. Her eyelashes, the edges of the skin on her lips, individual touches to her eyebrows and her skin that make her seem so very lifelike. Certainly what she’s seen of Mira’s behavior is a little bit stilted, a little crafted. But none of that is given away simply by looking at her, and Nadia is in awe of the attention to detail it must have taken.] 

[The android protests---probably something she is meant to do, to protect people. But Nadia only tuts quietly, and strokes her arm reassuringly, like she would do to calm her sisters.] I’ve been there before, it is not so very difficult for me. [A small fib, but she’d rather brave it again than be alone, or condemn another to that solitude.] We could find some other place, that would be safer for us both. [Her eyes crinkle at the corners. She feels very warmly towards Mira, and her explanation verges on truth.] There’s no one here I know for very long---I am very new, so you say we don’t know each other, but to me now you are one of my oldest friends, d’accord? [She pats Mira’s hand, as though this is completely normal and should just be accepted.]

[At the next question, however, she finds she must come up with a quick fib, again, attempting to wave it off.] I---It’s been very fast, I don’t remember the name they told me... Oh! [She turns, stepping away, as though she has suddenly recalled an appointment, tugging her sleeves over her wrists. She should be more careful, even if Mira is different from the others, Nadia doesn’t really know that much about her yet.] I’m sorry, I have somewhere I need to go, I’m afraid to be late. [Hopefully Mira isn’t programmed to be suspicious, or to detain someone who doesn’t answer her questions.]

[nadia--chasen]

clean getaway | nadia & ajay

ajay-bennett​:

[He starts to pass one of the arms of the dock—then pauses and doubles back a step or two. It’s got significantly less traffic on it. And… well would you look at that. Crates half-unloaded at the base of a rickety ramp off one of the ship decks. Ajay wanders down slowly, peering around. He takes his time, not eager to be caught standing to close just twiddling his thumbs like a totally suspicious asshole. There’s gotta be someone around here, right? Seeing no one is riskier than seeing a distracted couple of someone’s. When there’s a couple of someones, at least you know where the danger lies, and how much time you have before said danger is right on your ass. 

That’s when he hears a laugh, and spots a guard much further down the dock having a smoke, and grinning at his PDD. Oh, Christ. What a classic, ‘you’re so funny, phone’ meme moment, only phones don’t exist anymore and so the best thing he could be looking at on his PDD is knock-knock jokes from some other brute guard friend, presumably. How embarrassing. 

Ajay smirks, still a ways away from both the cargo, and the guard, and as he glances around to asses his options, he turns his head back to the way he came at the sound of footsteps—two sweaty looking Merchants heading up the stairs towards the Colony. Lunch break, piss break, fuck break, who knows. Either way, they’re making it way too easy for Ajay. 

Still, he has to assume the guard will see him once he wanders into his peripherals, so it’s best to play it safe. Ducking into the shade of the ship overhead, he squints down past the guard. The guard seems to be standing between two open ship holds. Oh, those budget cuts. Making a quick decision, because he’ll lose his opportunity if he doesn’t, he holds an arm out, braces himself for a moment, and makes a smacking motion in the air—he uses more physical force and movement than he might usually because of the distance—often, he thinks using his hands to help with his ability is nothing but a placebo effect and has little actually to do with the use of the ability—but if it helps, it helps, and he’s not going to complain. Besides, now is not the time to start testing that theory.

Just as he’d hoped, the plank leading down to the docks from the ship behind the guard lifts right off the edge of the deck and falls to the docks with a loud thud. The guard jumps almost two feet in the air, and spins around with a loud curse. With his back turned, and his attention now turned to the other ship to try to address the fallen plank (caught up in a very dramatic gust of wind, on this rather mild-weathered day, obviously,) Ajay sneaks forward to the crates, pulls open one of the lids with a yank and—yes! Liquor bottles. Thank you, sweet baby Jesus. He carefully pulls one from the crate, and stuffs it inside his jacket sleeve—feels it slide down from his shoulder to his elbow and stop. Making a mental note to keep his elbows at least a little bent on the way back, he does this on the other side as well, then shoves one in each of his deep, jean pockets, one in the back of his waistband, and takes off. 

He’s about to round the corner when he realizes he’d left the crate lid open. Fuck. A glance over his shoulder and the guard seems to still be at least a little distracted, but he’s mostly got the ramp set up again and it’s too risky to go back. So he hastily sweeps his hand, sliding the crate lid back on top—though it’s a little askew—and spins on his heel to high tail it out of there. And by ‘high tail’ he means ‘walk with hasty purpose’ because the last thing he wants to do is draw attention to himself.] 

---fade out.

[nadia--chasen]

the world beyond our eyes || nadia & angel

angel-thorne‌:

Are you an Angel, she asked from beneath a tentatively growing smile that unfurled like petals breaking through the weight of dewdrops. She still seemed very rattled, but not necessarily put off. The rattled thing Angel was used to - people often found his presence disconcerting for several reasons. But she was more curious than most, as though she thought he might be a revelation rather than a monster.

After a beat, Angel replied with a twinkle: “You’d not believe me if I told you.” He shared her tone, a little bit teasing and a little bit not. Angel didn’t really believe he was an angel. But he did believe that something brought him back from the grave, and he believed that that something might be akin to what some cultures call angels – and that in his passing acquaintance, a little of their celestial nature had rubbed off on him as pollen onto a curious honeybee. It was all just so speculative that it often didn’t bear debating, because it was far too easy for people to pass him off as ‘mad’. He knew how it sounded, and he knew people already found his beliefs eccentric.

But, as he studied the expression on Nadia’s face, he thought perhaps her mind was a little more open than most. She was wide eyed, not in a way that suggested naivety, but in a way that suggested curiosity. And curiosity, Angel thought, was one of the finest traits a person could have.

Maybe he’d tell her later. 

She was certainly a strange creature. He touched her hair, and her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned closer to him. It reminded him of a sinner leaning keenly forward to accept a sip of communion wine. It always made Angel happy, when others found as much joy in simple touches as he did. For Angel, touch was a grounding thing, a way of reminding himself that he was present and alive. The electricity of skin to skin contact was, as far as he was concerned, one of the greatest things two people could share. 

Nadia seemed to agree, if the way her fingers wrapped around his wrist was anything to judge by. She stared at him. He stared at her. The sparse crowd moved around them, momentarily unnoticed. Angel thought about artist’s muses, and how you can paint the same thing again and again and find new inspiration in it each time because your muse is a kaleidoscope prism through which your understand the world anew each time you see them.

He didn’t recognise the word she spoke, low and lyrical. It didn’t sound French, he thought, nor particularly like any other language he knew, and he cocked his head curiously. It was a lovely sound, whatever it meant.

They both had a lot of questions. Angel smiled fondly when she asked why he would buy her something. Of all the questions she might have, that seemed like such a funny one.

“Well, why not?” he asked with an extravagant shrug. “Because you’re here, because I like buyin’ gifts more than I like buyin’ things for myself, because you’ve got a beautiful smile that I’d like to see again… why not?” he said again. Angel never needed reasons to do things; if anything, he needed reasons not to do things, or else he would just drift about doing any little thing that took his fancy. Angel slipped his wrist through her fingers, not to pull away but to entwine them with his own hand as he guided her into the Hub. “What’s that word you said… מלאך?” he asked, trying to mimic her pronunciation. It was a clumsy approximation; he hoped it wouldn’t insult her.

Maybe she should've run from him then, or quite possibly long before now. But with her new (albeit inactive, possibly defective) PDD encircling one wrist, and a drawn-on version of the Delma crest peeking from her sleeve on the other, Nadia felt strangely calm. Neither precaution would stand up to close scrutiny, but it was more of a disguise than she'd had previously. She didn't know why she could be seen, but if this were her last interaction with someone before she was found out, it felt... unusual enough to seem significant.

She had never considered herself much of a risk-taker. Perfectly content to stay within the boundaries set for her by those who loved her, she hadn't felt too inclined to explore darker instincts. Her existence has been sheltered, in so many ways. Danger, before the End, had always been a choice, and she'd always had either the agency to pull away from something before it burned her too badly, or someone to protect her and do it for her.

It had been years since she felt cared for. The blows fell hard and without ceasing when she was on her own, and she'd never been spared unless she'd taken cover and run. But here, she was feeling it again. From Koda, from Pax. Maybe this Angel could see her for a reason. Maybe she didn't have her veil because with him, it wasn't necessary?

She didn't know. It was too much to hope for, and obviously the idea had no evidence, yet, only the way he did not alarm her. She was quick to trust her instincts, about people especially.

He hadn't pulled away from her touch, or recoiled from her questions. Said she wouldn't believe it. Earnestly, she gazed up at him. "I would. I have seen unbelievable things." Been them, even. A woman who can walk between a crowd without being seen? Clung to by an evil spirit from the outside, seeking vengeance?

They lived in an age of miracles and horrors, what was sure to be seen as a mythic time by any who came after them, and she would be more foolish not to believe it.

She held his gaze and waited for a moment, but then dropped her eyes. Maybe it was just a name. She couldn't know for that certain... 

But he was certainly charming. And she did smile for him, when he mentioned it again. If he was simply looking to bestow gifts on a stranger to make her smile, who was she to argue with something so endearing? It would be her own habit too, she supposed, in another life, where she had the means and wasn't in hiding. "Fine, mon ange... 'why not' it will be." She lifted their joined hands and spun beneath them, in a spontaneous dance step. After she twirled back towards him, light on her toes, she left their fingers locked together, his arm now draped around her shoulders as they walked. It felt natural to her.

When asked what the word meant, her mouth dropped open in concentration, her eyes searching upward. "It’s Hebrew, my other language. It means angel, your name." She nudged a shoulder into his chest lightly as they walked further into the market. She felt a lesson from childhood drift back to her, tapping her politely on the shoulder to make her correct herself. "But, also it means..." Her brow knitted with a fierce concentration. "Le messager?" She didn't remember exactly how to get to the English translation from there, but tried simply affecting English pronunciation. "Messager? He brings news, warnings, that sort of a thing? Is sometimes an angel, sometimes not, but the same word for both. It is where the name Malachi is from."

Spotting a stall with trinkets and scarves she'd passed by before, she turned her face up to him. "There?" she inquired, hopefully.

[haleyjames]

[ofwarlcrds-deactivated20201010]

Turn The Other Cheek | KaiserxMitch

[nadia--chasen]

mitch--douglas‌:

ofwarlcrds‌:

[Though, even moments before, Kaiser couldn’t quite shake some feeling that had the hair at the back of his neck standing on end.. that wasn’t why his hackles were raised. Sharp blue eyes narrowed on Mitch. Shrewdly and quickly, they took in the man’s tired features. He saw exhaustion, but what agitated the german was that he was nearly certain he saw defeat. Nostrils flared as his chin jutted slightly and he stepped closer. The hand on Mitch’s arm yanking him closer as his form pushed against Mitch’s in a position that was more challenging than threatening. He took offense to the aspect of defeat. Particularly in a man of Mitch’s stature and capability. He had suspicions of what Mitch was capable of.. but he goddamn knew he hadn’t expected defeat to be in that list.

The German reasoned that this kind.. moral man couldn’t enjoy the tactics these people employ.. hell.. so far what Kaiser had seen had been moves dirtier than half of his enemies were willing to pull. As far as he was concerned, they fought dirty, and as far as he was concerned, they were behind this whole fucking thing. His grip tightened for several long seconds as Mitch spoke ouf finally, insisting that he wasn’t a fighter. Leaning in suddenly, his voice lowering to a rough husk, he pulled Mitch slightly closer. The rough scrape of his bristle scratching Mitch’s jaw as if he felt the walls had ears.]

That’s the problem, you need to adjust your viewpoint, Teacher.  [He stated, his voice gruff, but blatant and honest. Forcefull.] You need to understand that war makes everyone a fighter. The longer it goes on, the more of your kids pick up that mantle instead of you. You fucking know something is wrong I feel it every time I mention it. Are you truly that docile? That useless to them? What is it you’re denying?

[[ Kaiser steps in close and still, Mitch tries not to startle and tries not to back down. His arm tenses under the tightening grip of Kaiser’s enormous hand, but he makes no moves to break himself free, even when Kaiser uses that grip to pull him that much closer. The sudden proximity and the unexpected brush of Kaiser’s jaw against his trips him up mentally, but by some miracle, Mitch’s tone stays low and resolute. ]]

I’m not denying anything. What would you have me do? Take on the NWRF? Fight? Use this against them? [[ Mitch brings his free hand up between them, fingers splayed where they come to rest against Kaiser’s chest – but not quite. He can feel their abilities reacting and working against each other, manifesting in a strange pressure under his palm, like the feeling of trying to press together a pair of magnets against their similar poles.

It isn’t a show of force, not necessarily, and it isn’t a warning. Mitch withdraws his hand, fingers curling into a loose fist as he lets it settle to hang at his side again, though without the same measure of defeat. ]]

Then I’d be exactly what the Reformists say I am, some… super-powered monster. [[ It isn’t meant to be a pointed comment, not towards Kaiser. His choices are his own. Mitch puts only enough distance between them to frown up at him, slowly shaking his head again and with more resolve. ]] There are other ways to be useful.

@nadia–chasen​

[Nadia half expects them to end up kissing one another rather than trading blows. The air is woven tightly between them, with an aggression and a heat that could easily turn one way or the other---though she supposes it probably only seems that way from an outside perspective. Passion is passion, though.] 

[She chews the ends of her hair, speculating from the sidelines, but then casts the thought aside. It seems out of character for the Teacher. He seems like he is more careful and methodical, usually---and though in her experience, people like that are often in desperate need of an outlet, she doubts this is the time, place, or company with which he’d allow himself to let go.]

[Their words do make her think of more than just sex. She doesn’t think they’re really in danger of fighting, anymore. Some parts of the debate escape her, but on the whole she does wonder for herself if the Teacher is right and there are ways out that are not fighting. She would like to believe so, too. But she also understands that the danger they all face is very real, and maybe it is a war, or the start of one. How long would she be able to stay hidden, protecting only herself, thinking only of her own safety? Was she ever known to be so selfish?]

[The thought is a troubling one. Too troubling. She feels it settle in her stomach like a cold stone, and after watching them a moment longer she backs away down the hall. Later, maybe, she will find out more about the two of them, but the mention of monsters struck a little too close to her heart.]

@ofwarlcrds​

[nadia--chasen]

now you see me ᚹ koda & nadia

kxdapaync‌:

Many people are angry. [ Koda answers, thoughtfully. He’s not ‘above’ anger, simply finds it takes a lot more for him to reach anything anyone else would consider to be ‘angry’. He’s more often frustrated, disappointed. Koda’s more like the comical mother figure, looking on with a sigh compared to a young adult rebel with clenched fists and rage. ]

I… I can understand how it helps some people. The structure of it all. [ He thinks of Constantin, specifically, but also the younger survivors or the elderly. Or, simply, those who wish they had their comfortable lives back. ]  I think I’ve learnt to deal with it? [ He shrugs, he doesn’t have all the answers, much as he wishes he did. ]

[ When Nadia taps at his wrist tattoo, Koda instinctually moves to show it to her properly, let Nadia move his arm around if she feels the need too. ]

I’m in Brink. The others are Torren, Delma and Calyset. Everyone here has one. It’s part of the intake. They have some system which sorts people. You just put your hand on this scanner and it places you. Like… horoscopes or personality tests or the sorting hat out of Harry Potter — but more ‘scientific’, I suppose. [ Koda explains, perhaps rather poorly but he’s trying to get out all the key bits of information. ] Yes, red is infected. Some have a red brand with a black capital ‘D’ in the centre, that means they’re deluded. [ He pauses. Contemplates if it’d be insulting to ask, but Koda would rather talk to Nadia freely and comprehensively. She’s been smart enough to survive this long, he’d like to help her out. He has to. ] Do you know what that is or …?

[ He tips his head to the side. Once more watching Nadia closely, the way she’s so quick to find comfort in his company. He’s grateful, actually, Nadia chose him. He likes to think he puts people at ease, knows he is a trustworthy person. He wonders, what house she would actually be in. ] If you wanted to be more visible, you’d probably need one of them. [ Stealing a branding gun would be too risky, he believes he’d heard someone had tried it before. He could do a stick and poke, if he could mimic the appearance exactly.

That brings him to thinking of what house would they pick? He thinks Brink, at first, but immediately scratches off the idea. Dante Carrington is the Head and a known member of the NWRF. It seems the safest bet would be Delma: Cambie Andrews is, as far as Koda is aware, the only Head of House not with NWRF ties. ] Delma would work for you, I think.

[Maybe he’s right. After all, she grew up in a small community, a lot like this. Routine never struck her as dull or boring back then, although she did love to visit bigger cities when the opportunity came up. But it didn’t feel quite so oppressive, back then.]

[It’s intriguing, to hear he’s adapted. She also wonders about the parts of his story she hadn’t been able to overhear---his past, his family.] Where did you come from?

[He explains the test, the scan and the sorting. It does sound like maybe she will be able to pass as whichever she chooses, as long as they have no way to prove it’s inaccurate simply by looking. Nadia beams at him, but then she shakes her head, when he mentions the lettered tattoos. She has noticed it on some of the Infected who do chores.] I have seen it, but I don’t know what it’s meaning. Deluded? [She repeats the word, but it’s not one she’s familiar with.] 

[She agrees.] I had thought that, yes, to draw one on, but not knowing how they choose, it might give me away if I get it wrong. That is something I was hoping, you could make me a tattoo, like yours? [She taps his wrist again, excitement growing.] Like you did here, that night? In black, so they don’t have reason to look at me close if I get caught---it’s not as safe as if I came in the front doors and did that way, but maybe it’s still better than now. 

[Folding her fingers over his again, she clutches his hand to her, with a broad smile.] And I could do things like sit with you sometimes, like now. Delma---that is the one like a bird, yes? [Examining her wrist, she pictures it, and beams at him.] That will be so cute on me, I love it. Yours is pretty, too, though. 

[nadia--chasen]

clean getaway | nadia & mira

mira-sigar‌:

[Mira gives her a smile, nodding a bit.] Yes, I suppose I am sort of like a robot. [Mira doesn’t recognize her accent, but she rarely ever does. She just assumes people have different accents and doesn’t know where they are from. Mostly because that is unimportant to what her directive is. Mira doesn’t notice the pause she takes to find the right word in English. She just stands patiently, waiting and smiling, her head slightly tilted slightly to the right. 

Mira ponders her question for a moment.] I don’t believe so. And if there are, they weren’t built by the same person as I was. I was built as more of a prototype. Mr. Sigar probably intended to sell the patent for my design to larger corporations, or start his own. But he never got to do that because because of the asteroids falling.

[Something tightens in her, knotting in her abdomen. She doesn’t know what that means. She doesn’t know what to do with that. But also, Mira doesn’t take notice to the fact that she questions who the Elites were and how that might be seen as weird or unusual, so that isn’t where the feeling comes from.] Yes, they give the orders. And I suppose it isn’t the worst thing in the world. But–I suppose worry–if they keep making me take breaks or not do the jobs I am programmed to do that I will grow obsolete… [She hesitates, looking away from the woman for a moment.] I worry that I will no longer have a purpose and what will they do with me then? [There’s that feeling inside her that wants to run. That wants to hide and make loud noises. She clasps her hands a little tighter behind her back.] I don’t want to go back to being in the wastes. I take up a bed they could use, they tell me to eat food that others may need. If my purpose was no longer necessary or something happens to my programming that they cannot fix, what purpose would they have to keep me around?

[As baffling as it is to hear that Mira meant it literally, it does explain some of her behaviour. Nadia had so many unanswered questions from her observations of the girl, and perhaps this was the reason behind many of the curious things she’d witnessed. It certainly explained her constant preoccupation with assisting others.]

[And honestly, Nadia’s upbringing had been somewhat sheltered from technology. She was never one to pick up tech news, and she’d had very little interest in what new advancements were being made in scientific fields if it didn’t directly affect her. Sometimes a friend would show off a new gadget or gizmo she didn’t recognize and she’d find it intriguing, but she definitely couldn’t say that androids didn’t exist.]

[So the questions that arise now are not because she doesn’t believe, precisely. More that she needs to understand what she’s seeing, how Mira wants to be treated.] Mr. Sigar, is the one who made you? [She leans closer, trying to see the marks left by whatever methods were used to make her.] What are you made of? What materials? 

[She realizes, she doesn’t know if the questions are insensitive or not.] I am sorry, I don’t mean to ask so many questions, but you... say you worry? Do you feel these things? Or getting hurt, or getting sad? Can you cry? [Judging from the way she’d spoken, about becoming obsolete, Nadia suspects she can. It also makes her feel protective enough that she reaches out and touches the android’s soft cheek.] If anything like this happens, and they make you go, I will stay with you. We will find another place, together. You won’t be alone. [She tells her, quietly certain. Perhaps it sounds strange, considering that for Mira they’ve only just met, but Nadia means it wholeheartedly. No matter what Mira is, she won’t let her be cast aside like a useless toy. No one deserves that.]

[colony22graphics]

Col. 22 Tarot Deck

Nadia Chasen — THE HERMIT

“ A lonely wanderer in the path of the night, she searches for that which can only be gained with long periods of solitude - inner voice… … However, there is a possibility that your seclusion may become harmful to both yourself and others. ”

[nadia--chasen]

clean getaway | nadia & charlie

charlie-freakin-essex‌:

No. [[ Charlie can’t help look down and laugh quietly, shaking his head, even if it’s an honest question. She can’t have any idea where he came from. ]] I mean, not in most ways. I was out in the Wastes for a long time. Started in America, eventually made my way over here. [[ The boat was a particularly long and boring cutscene, interactive but without a lot of options. ]] Colony 4 for a little after that, before I transferred here.

[[ He says so pretty matter-of-factly, for the amount of travel few get to do anymore. It only ever made sense to him to explore, to keep moving; not to get trapped in one place. Until recently, anyway. Trent changed a lot of that for him, even if there were still days he wished he could be out exploring what was left of the dead world. ]] What about you? Transfer, or… ? [[ Charlie tilts his head with a curious and inviting smile, not seeming to mind being waylaid. ]]

[He gives a soft laugh as he answers, and she takes such great pleasure in having caused it. Colony 4, she has no idea about, but she nods as though she understands. When he turns the question around on her, she repeats the motion, quick enough so as to not seem suspicious.] Yes, I--- [Her breath catches as the door opens, and draws her attention completely---possibly for the best, as she hadn’t planned any further explanation of where she came from or how to continue the conversation.]

[Another man she doesn’t know enters, and she realizes that entertaining both of them would unwise. It would give them opportunities to talk to one another, about her. It doesn’t seem particularly safe.] I hope you will excuse me? I---I remember I am late for seeing a friend. [She’s apologetic, head slightly bowed. For all he knows, she is making an excuse because the new arrival makes her uncomfortable---a narrative she’s happy to play up by lowering her voice, as though suddenly shy around another person. She can imagine feeling like their nice talk has been interrupted, like it was much more private and precious than a few words about where they come from. She darts a glance at the other man, who has deposited a shaving kit on the counter.] It was nice to meet you, Charlie. I’ll see you again, I hope. 

[Ducking out the door, she hurries around the corner, and vanishes after she turns into an empty hallway. The adrenaline of being seen, being smiled at and laughed with... Even only for a few moments, it warms her cheeks, and puts a spring into her step. She hums dreamily as she goes about the rest of her day.]

---end.

[sudaul]

[nadia--chasen]

the world beyond our eyes || nadia & angel

angel-thorne‌:

The way she looked over her shoulder was comically sweet. It was like she was asking: who, me? And Angel offered a benevolent smile that said: yes, you. He was used to strange reactions by now - whether because they recognised him from Wing’ed Things or because he’d just taken their sickness from them or because he was simply a little eccentric. He was unperturbed by it. He’d been well known enough from such a young age that he’d not had much of a shot at a regular life, so it wasn’t like he knew any different.

Nadia’s surprise was, therefore, unremarkable. He couldn’t guess why she was so taken aback, but it didn’t really matter. Angel enjoyed the full range of the human experience; it was always a privilege to be among them, to see their joy and their heartbreak, their surprise and their envy. Wonderful, wonderful creatures.

He brightened at the sound of her voice, always a sucker for different accents and timbres. Voices were beautiful things; they told you so much about a person. Where they were from, how they felt, what they were like. They were musical instruments in their own right. 

“Ooh, are you French?” he asked, voice a delighted trill. “I love your accent, I bet it sounds beautiful when you sing. Will you come shoppin’ with me? I’m in the market for something… pretty. Or fun. My name’s Angel, by the by,” He talked as he thought, trailing and directionless. For all his flaws, Angel was at least honest.

He’d not looked for a companion in the Hub today, but now the opportunity was here, he decided it would be more fun with two. He liked hearing other people speak almost as much as he liked the sound of his own voice, and he was an eager collector of other people’s stories. There was a lot of Brits here, naturally, but people from further afield tended to have more fun stories.

For that reason Angel had loved travelling around Eastern Europe after the Fall. There were so many new voices, so many stories to hear, so much inspiration to be found. It fascinated him, how the dice fell. How had this woman, with her bright, warm eyes and her darling accent, come to land in this little Colony off the coast of England? It was such a funny world, and Angel thought all the stories in it were very special.

The cosmos was vast, even endless, yet here was this one person with a story that nobody else could claim.

Angel’s attention span was short, and easily caught onto passing fancies. The wind took him where it pleased. He’d set out today with the intention of shopping, but if a new friend fell into his path? Well, that was just delightful. Before Nadia had a chance to respond to his words, he gave her another scrutinising look from beneath his heavily lined lids, and touched one of Nadia’s curls, pushing it gently back. “And y’know what, while we’re at it, we should find somethin’ for your hair. What beautiful curls, eh? You’d look like a piece of art with something sparkly in them.”

His touchy-feely nature had gotten him in trouble before. Angel had little understanding of, or respect for, boundaries. Nobody had ever respected his boundaries - he was forever having fans grab at him for hugs and attention, or dealers patting him down to make sure he’d brought nothing but cash, or photographers pushing and pulling him this way and that for the perfect shot, so he’d never learned to understand personal space. He’d gotten numb to it; it didn’t occur to him that other people wouldn’t be.

He meant well, as he always did. There was this thing he’d read about Elvis, once, that had impressed him greatly. That no matter how much money the King was earning, he was endlessly generous with his money and bought extravagant presents for his friends and family. It was something Angel tried to take inspiration from. He might not be earning rockstar wages any more, but he was still generous with his stipend he received for his work here. It made him happy to buy presents for people.

Nadia was quite certain she had made some sort of mistake. Her heart was beating a frenzied rhythm in her ears, trying to tell her of danger---but his words were innocent and casual. The dissonance between the two made it difficult to concentrate, and her voice was hoarse and distracted. “I---I am. French.” She glanced down, as much because she needed to gather herself, as that she was flattered by the comment. “I don’t know. It’s... difficult for me to hear, my own voice. Some have less accent when they sing, I have heard,” she remarked. It took effort to get the words out, even more than English usually took from her. At his invitation, she could only nod. Her mind hadn’t provided her with an alternative to joining him, despite all its racing. 

Her footsteps slowed, hearing his name. “Angel,” she repeated, smile growing tentatively. “It’s beautiful.” 

Then she drew to a complete stop. She stared at him, traced his face, eyes wide. Could it be, maybe, more than a name? It could be that something extraordinary was here, presenting itself to her in the market of all places, and she only needed to pay attention to understand the importance of it? Her head tilted, and she studied him, feeling the nerves build in her chest, perhaps a warning of something momentous about to happen. “Are you? An angel?” It was said almost teasingly, almost not. Such a pointed meaning in a name, could it be a coincidence? Or was it more like... a sign. 

Maybe he was something else. Something unexpected. A true messenger. She couldn’t discount it, she did have faith in such entities. 

He reached to touch a lock of her hair, and her lips parted slightly at the the softness of the gesture. Her eyelids fluttered closed and her head canted towards his hand, instinctively drawing closer to it, keen to draw comfort from it. She blinked up at him, not so much startled as fascinated. It had been a long time since someone had so casually reached out and made contact with her. Without thinking, she grasped his wrist, as he released her hair. The beat of his pulse beneath her fingers was so warm, so reassuring. So alive, and not her own. 

The feeling, the strangeness of what used to be so familiar---another body, skin heated and close. Her body felt so much more connected to the space around it, as if he’d drawn her out of a fog she hadn’t been aware she’d been caught in, and pulled her back into the world. She felt that she had been... not quite awake, before. Or perhaps she was dreaming now---it didn’t make any sense. 

It took effort, but she thought through what had happened in those last seconds, and what she knew of her own existence. She could keep her veil up when she wanted to, she hadn’t felt herself slipping up, hadn’t been shocked out of it. But... this being could see her, could touch her without even thinking it was anything strange. Could others? Was she different, or was he? She spared a moment to scan the faces around them, but couldn’t tell just by looking whether they perceived her or not, and her attention came swiftly back to him. 

“מלאך...” she murmured, considering it as she scanned his features again. He had seemed so unusual to her, with his feathered dress and glittering, kohl-shadowed eyes. Her mind flew over the possibilities, as she tried to reason with herself, but she came up short on one that answered all her questions.

Still her hand remained locked around his wrist, clinging childlike as she attempted to get her bearings. “You would buy me something? Why?” she inquired, wondering what it all meant.

[nadia--chasen]

i got my eyes on you  so what you gonna do

[colony22graphics]

N. CHASEN » sabinal by jake houlsby 

Winter always plays with me it ties me to the ground Then cuts me loose and throws me to the sky I suddenly unwind, reveal another side And say everything I was was just a lie Do I leave as a criminal or do I stay as a coward?