History need not repeat itself

Kalea, 32, Proud Scribe. Here to help! //Closed RP blog for Touch of Strange

[scribekalea-blog]

[OOC] Return of the Hiatus

Lately I’ve been excessively busy, and have not had time to RP. Because of that, I’m extending my hiatus another week in the hopes that I can figure out a way to find time and continue playing Kalea. I miss her and I miss you all.

Love, Jules

[scribekalea-blog]

[OOC] Hiatus

I will be gone until the 30th, as I’m off to visit my sister and new niece! To anyone I’m plotting with, I’ll be ready to pick up where we left off when I get home. Happy holidays to everyone!

[scribekalea-blog]

problematicexorcist:

Well those people can play the music in the comfort of their own damn homes. imagine whatever the hell you want, I stand by the fact that people working shitty retail jobs probably already have enough to deal with without obnoxious music blaring all damn day.

I believe they think, rightly or wrongly, that they’re spreading good cheer. They want others to get in the spirit as they believe it will make said others happier. That’s at least something of a noble thing, whether it’s true or not. And retail workers may not deserve that but I think there’s plenty more urgent things on the list of what they don’t deserve. Still, it’s something to think about.

[scribekalea-blog]

blythewonder:

[pm] I suppose that is true, but you are also right. It’s what we do, so learning how to best do it is, well, for the best.

[pm] The good thing about the job is you can’t not learn. Every single day. It’s unavoidable. But depending on what you learn, that might also have a downside.

[scribekalea-blog]

veronicatheslayer:

[pm] Of course. 11am? Does that work for you?

[pm] That’s fine!

[scribekalea-blog]

Empty || Solo

The poles had turned black. Layla Givens was dead.

Presumably Ashford River's Layla Givens, that was. Ashkent's Givens had died several years ago, shot by a vigilante or SHW. She had murdered a whole family by using blood magic to burst their vessels. The police were stymied, but the Scribes knew what happened. Layla left some DNA behind and was subsequently jailed, and subsequently broke out of jail, the jailer near her cell having suffered the same fate as the dead family, and his key missing. When she was found dead, the whole community breathed a sigh of relief—including Kalea, who had found the face photographed in the newspapers haunting. She still remembered that face, now.

She doubted now that she'd ever forget it.

When Bridget had contacted her with that name, the name of the woman who had cursed Kalea and Darwin, Kalea had felt terror all throughout her dying body. Even after she PMed Darwin telling him the name and asking him to... finish things, essentially (she could have just asked him aloud, since they were in the same house, but couldn't get her voice to work), she hallucinated Givens. Creaking open the guest bedroom door and creeping towards Kalea with a sickening, toothy grin on her eerily unblemished face. She'd almost felt her blood vessels bursting, though she'd known it was a hallucination.

Just like she'd known her father was a hallucination. He'd been in the corner, shaking his head at her with a look of utter disappointment. His voice no longer comforting as he said, “Kalea... she'll die because of you.”

Kalea had known that. All too well. She knew it now. But now, with Layla Givens' name on the blackened poles, with all symptoms gone, and with no one to talk to as she sat in her empty home again, Kalea felt... nothing.

Darwin had driven her back here, after a week of her staying at his place. On the drive, he'd been serious, but managed to tell her to take care of herself and that they'd be in touch. She didn't know what to think about those words, but could imagine how he felt. He'd done it, written Layla's name in place of theirs. He'd been the one to physically curse her. But Kalea had been just as culpable. She wanted to tell him that, but again, she didn't know how to get the words out. So she'd sat there stupidly, numbly, as he drove. It was over. It was all over. When the pole in front of Darwin's had blackened, two days after he'd changed the name, their symptoms had disappeared, just like that. A woman had died, just like that. Gone from the world, permanently.

So why couldn't she feel anything about it?

What was wrong with her?

Her apartment was cold and very quiet, and a dim part of her missed Darwin's demon assistants. Certainly they had saved her money by helping her get dressed, free of charge. Tonight she'd have to call Stephanie, and explain why she'd left the hospital... somehow. And ever since the curse had really started to take hold, she'd wanted to call her grandparents—just to somehow thank them for everything before it was too late. Now she finally had a chance to talk to them without coughing or bleeding in the middle of the call. She had another chance to make things right with them. But she didn't want to.

She didn't want to do anything but sleep, and she doubted that was even a possibility right now.

She moved through the house towards her desk where she set up her laptop and logged onto Tumblr, having a lot of replies to get to. As if in a fog, as if watching herself from a distance, she started them. But all the while, beating through her head, over and over, was one question.

Why didn't she feel anything?

---

Days passed. There were questions from the hospital and they brought her in to evaluate that she didn't have some plague; it was decided it must have been a mix-up. She managed to placate Stephanie, and life continued.

Nothing changed within her. She went to work and pulled long hours to catch up, but where once her strong senses of duty and empathy would have driven her, now the only thing that seemed to drive her was a chance to escape from the emptiness which was almost always present. She felt terror whenever she woke up from a nightmare about the curse or Givens or her father disgusted with her, or when she imagined wetness trickling out of her nose or ears, saw a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye that could have been a hallucination, or let out a solitary cough. And sometimes she'd feel a glimpse of overpowering shame at feeling nothing, and it would buckle her; but then it would leave her. All alone. If she felt anything, it was the sheer horribleness of feeling nothing.

She clung to her principles, even if she didn't feel them. She worked to pay off the moral debt she'd incurred by taking a life, or at least pay off as much as she could. She pretended to be the person she had been—someone with a good heart who felt others' pain and needed to make a difference—and in most cases it worked. But the worst thing was knowing it was all a lie. A life had been taken, she had taken it, and it had destroyed her.

Kalea had failed her father, but if she played her cards right, she at least wouldn't fail her community... yet.

[scribekalea-blog]

blythewonder:

[pm] Fine. You can thank me. Though I doubt this’ll make anyone at HQ respect me much more

Though of all the things to have practice in, it’s one of the more unfortunate. 

[pm] That sounded grudging

It is unfortunate. I wish we lived in a town where no one required saving or killing what is wrong with me. A world, more like. But that’s not the case, and that’s why we do what we do.

[veronicatheslayer]

[pm] Sorry to leave you hanging, I had a situation which took up all of my time. I would still love to meet with you at your earliest convenience.

[pm] There is nothing to forgive. 

I too have been dealing with a time consuming situation. However I am free to meet whenever. Right now if you would like.

[scribekalea-blog]

Why does no one appreciate politen

[pm] Today has been busy, and tomorrow will be as well. Thursday should be fine. Whatever time you prefer.

[scribekalea-blog]

themoral-dilemma:

[pm] How about Wednesday? I’m free all day that day.

[pm] Sure. Come down whenever you’re ready--I work from 8 to 4 and have no other appointments tomorrow. Just tell the the guards who you are and they’ll direct you to my office.

[problematicexorcist]

If I hear one more Christmas song, I’m gonna lose my damn mind. Who in the hell thought it was a good idea to star playing that stuff in stores? Don’t understand how that doesn’t drive the folks that work there insane.

[scribekalea-blog]

There’s no need for hyperbole Some folks happen to like it. Quite a few folks, I think, as otherwise no one would be playing it. Failing that, I imagine employees get used to it fast, as people are quite adaptable.

[scribekalea-blog]

blythewonder:

[pm] I know, but that doesn’t mean you have to give it.

I do the life-saving thing pretty well, apparently. Or so it seems. I’m not totally sure, though.

[pm] I want to thank you, though. It’s not every day someone saves your life.

I would say so.

[scribekalea-blog]

themoral-dilemma:

[pm] Pretty much anytime, actually. Except tomorrow. Is there a time that works better for you?

[pm] Tuesday or Wednesday afternoon would be fine by me.

[blythewonder]

[pm] With the name you provided me, a witch was able to reverse the curse. The police are looking into Layla Givens. You have saved Darwin's life as well as mine. I can't thank you enough.

[pm] It’s really fine, you don’t need to thank me, I was just doing a branch of my our job.

I’m glad you are both alive. 

@scribekalea

[scribekalea-blog]

[pm] Just because you were doing your job, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve thanks. You are quite literally a life saver.

[themoral-dilemma-blog]

[pm] Are you still up for meeting at Scribe Headquarters to look for information on empaths? I'm sorry I wasn't able to contact you sooner on this, but things have cleared up now.

[pm] Oh, it’s you I am! Yes. I’m still rather uncertain of these abilities and I’d definitely like to know more. So I can finally really get into this character

[scribekalea-blog]

[pm] Great. Let me know when you’re available. I can assure you you’ll know much more by the time we’re through.

[scribekalea-blog]

In Another Life || Ember & Kalea

[scribekalea-blog]

ember-furness:

Kalea’s words mimicked the ones that Ember herself had said so many times when people had apologized to her. Which at least calmed her a little bit, as she let out a breath.  At least she hadn’t been annoying the woman, though part of the phoenix was sure that the older Scribe was just saying that for her benefit.  Which then left the jury out on whether or not she was actually being annoying.  However she did her best to try and believe what Kalea had said.  It was at least the easiest way to get through the conversation.  

The fact that the older woman hadn’t known Ashlyn though was a bit of a relief. Ember wasn’t ever really sure who had known her or not, partially because she couldn’t actually remember. So it made things easier to find out that there wasn’t anything that she was supposed to remember.  At least at the moment.  "Well thank you,“ the girl said with a slight blush.  Though she was positive that who ever had said that about her was really just talking about ways that she was similar to the person she was before.  Ember hadn’t actually done anything yet that would make her really stand out, unless Kalea had seen some of her assignments. "I’m glad to be here as well.  I’ve been working towards this my entire life.”  And while that was true, Ember also felt a twang in the back of her mind that made her think that maybe it wasn’t.  However now wasn’t the time to discuss whether or not Ashlyn actually wanted her to be a scribe, or if she wanted something else and just left the notes for Ember to figure that out.

Sometimes it was just really confusing to be a phoenix.

“I could think of worse ones other than poetry,” Ember admitted as she climbed up the chair. “A few months ago there was a beauty pageant that people were forced to be in, and some of them touched a poster and were sort of brainwashed to think that it was happy and good, even though people were dying and turning into pigs.  It really was terrifying.  So I think that poetry is a much better alternative to thinking that murder is completely normal.  I haven’t seen anyone like that.”  It was always easier to talk about other people’s problems, or the towns problems, than her own, something that Ember had found a long time ago.  Because someone else’s would rarely have something to do with her.  And that was something that Ember was incredibly thankful for.

The phoenix nodded at the woman, picking out a few different books that seemed to meet the older Scribe’s specifications.  "It would make sense that it was a curse,“ Ember agreed as she looked over the spine of a book before putting it back on the shelf.  She was already balancing four in her arms, and while she had carried much more in the past, she never had to climb down a chair with that many in her arms before.  "Alright these are what I have,” Ember said as she carefully climbed down the chair, “I think it’s at least a good start.  Or at least I hope that it is.”

Ember seemed to be more at ease, now, if that wasn’t just Kalea’s wishful thinking. She wracked her brain trying to think of more ways to make her feel comfortable and content. It had never ceased making her uneasy when people weren’t. At least she wasn’t bad at the task. Still, she couldn’t help wondering if there was something she’d done to make Ember nervous, and the thought nagged at her.

She noticed Ember’s blush and hoped her compliment hadn’t gone too far. Pleased to hear she was happy to be here, Kalea gave her a soft smile. “It’s a good position to work towards,” she said gently. “And I hope you know that it doesn’t matter who you were in a past life; you’re here on merit. Do you think Roger Hawthorne would ask for anything less?” she finished with a chuckle. It was possible that Ashlyn’s legacy weighed on the young woman, but Kalea always found it worthwhile to know what you were working towards.  Ember was lucky in that regard, and to have the wisdom of a past life, as well. She wished she had such a future and past. (She wished she felt she had a future at all.)

“I knew about the pageant,” she said to the mention of it, while inside she was shivering. God, what a horrible time that had been. The sheer evil of it was something unforgettable. Some horrors were worse than others, and some days it felt hard to go on. She did it because she had to. Because people needed her to. But part of her felt that in order to keep doing her job she was becoming too immune to the suffering, which disrespected the victims. Still, what choice did she have, really? It was either feel it completely or do her job well. She knew which option she’d always pick. “I tried to help stop it,” she said quietly, but the word stood out: ‘tried’. Tried and failed. Some days she felt like that was the entire story of her job. She knew she was helping but it didn’t seem like nearly enough. “It was... there aren’t words for how awful it was. It’s just that I can’t help thinking how hard it would be to not be able to communicate properly.” It was one of her worst fears, actually. Ever since seeing her father in his last few days having lost the ability to speak, the thought had haunted her. The thought that someday it would happen to her, too. “But I know we can fix this,” she said in a cheerier voice, trying to think positively and erase all thoughts of dying from her mind.

She held her breath as Ember carefully came down while balancing four books on her arms, then released it in a whoosh when the girl was successful. “You are brave,” she said a little incredulously. “Next time try one or two at a time, maybe. We want you in one piece here. But thank you.” Ember brought the books over to her and she started looking through them. ‘Mental Magic and Curses - A Primer’, ‘Disposition Shifts’, ‘The Language of Mental Magic’, and ‘A History of Magic Affecting the Mind’. “These are fantastic. I think I can really gain a lot of key information here. Do you mind if I start reading? It looks like there’s tons to get through.”

[scribekalea-blog]

blythewonder:

[pm] What do you have to do now?

[user continues to freak out]

[message read]

[scribekalea-blog]

blythewonder replied to your post: [pm] I talked with Sophie, I believe, and she gave...

[pm] Layla Givens. I think.

[user freaks out and with trouble moving takes five minutes to write two words]

[pm] Thank you.