realityshifted | ♥ oh be your own strength

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freakangels (d1) sirkka

♥ oh be your own strength

[There is a gigantic four post bed on the Plane. Wrapped in its supple crimson sheets is none but Sirkka herself. Shirt? Who needs a shirt? A lacy purple bra is just fine, and no one knows what else she's wearing since the rest of her is hidden. She doesn't seem inclined to get dressed even though she has tea in her hand and bowl of fruit resting on a small table beside her.

She yawns, evidently more interested in staring up at the curtain than... you know. Putting on clothes.]

Ugh. Why does it have to be four in the afternoon?

[She rubs at her eyes.]

I have a lecture in half an hour. Thank God for the Plane.

[She shifts a little, then gives up and rests her head against the backboard.]

Fifteen minutes.

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[Nathan, similarly skipping doing any sort of work, has advice to give. And by advice I mean it isn't really advice.]

Ugh, no, don't go to that.

[Yeah, don't go to a lecture, Sirkka! Lectures are terrible.

Also I have no idea what the fuck Nathan's doing. He's probably just standing aimlessly around on the plane bored but he doesn't want to work. So bored is better.]

[Sirkka hasn't seen Nathan since... that time. And no, she is not going to tug her blankets up. She does not care.] But I have to. [She says this with a gentle sort of smile despite herself, her thoughts.] They need help adjusting and I'm the only one who can do it.

I have something for you.

[She doesn't miss a beat as she swings her legs over the side of the mattress and opens her nightstand. Sirkka offers a black-wrapped present to him. It's somewhat heavy, possibly very spiky and metal. Like, literally. Black metal only wishes they had a set of handcuffs like these.]

I'm sorry about what happened. I got the roses; they were lovely. If you don't want to speak to me again, I understand.

[Nathan stares at the gift for a second after he takes it. He attempts to resist the urge to tear it open and see what this shit is but no he doesn't, and proceeds to open it - rather sort of neatly, really - as he talks.]

Huh? What, uh- what are you apologizing for?

[It's a half-there reply, as he's sort of mostly focused on unwrapping this thing.]

[Sirkka frowns, almost distracted by his delicate unwrapping before she catches herself.]

I shouldn't have... I reached right in there without even asking you, and that was terrible. And I used it against you, which was even worse.

I'm a freak. A psychic or an empath, or whatever you want to call it. I swore to protect other people but I couldn't even protect you from me.

[Nathan continues unwrapping. Let us say he is victorious and you can inform me what it is next.]

Yeah, well, uh. I was being a dick. I have no fucking clue what- what I was thinking? Or, okay. It was like, uhmmmm... I don't know, I was just angry and not... myself. I guess it was forced? Whatever.

[He shrugs.]

And hey, hey, noooo, don't say that. You're not- you're not a freak. Maybe, uh, a bit... weird. But, no, I mean, you could be like fucking Miss Cleo. Tell people about their future or their problems or some shit.

[I guess Nathan's in a good mood today.]

[It's handcuffs. SIRKKA IS CLASSY. Also, she does not own much outside of... handcuffs... furniture... and lingerie... Anyway he's pretty metal so he should enjoy those.

That last part makes her laugh, though.]

I can't really see the future, but I am a counselor.

[She tilts her head.]

So we're okay now?

[Oh, yay! He plays with them for a few moments before cuffing one of his wrists and then just sort of dropping his arms to his sides.]

Uh, yeah? I mean... I, uh, apol- apologised or whatever. For being a dick.

[A beat.]

You could still, uh, be Miss Cleo. That's what she does, okay, she fucking... counsels... people. Or did. I think she died or something like that.

I just wanted to make sure.

[Her smile is brighter now, though it soon gains a hint of mischief.]

Maybe. She was a lesbian, too.

Whoa, seriously?

[He stares, because whoa! He did not know this.]

Yeah, uh, I don't remember... much about her beyond the fact she was- she was on a lot of infomercials. I was like, fucking 22.

[He is now trying to remember this. This is around where he stopped watching a lot of tv, so...]

[She chuckles, low and warm.]

Yeah, it was a long time ago.

[She sits back against the headboard, then pats the bed.]

You can have a seat if you want. I'm not contagious.

[Nathan totally takes up the offer. He's great at sitting. The handcuffs dangling from his wrist probably clank on something.]

Hey, uh, just... don't tell anyone anything. Please. What you saw, I mean. That's- that's nobody's business, okay? I don't want my past, you know, paraded around for every jackoff to look at and criticize.

[But he grins despite this statement.]

[She doesn't mind. If he looks, there are... marks. Around the bedposts. All four of them.

Yeaaaaaaaah.]

I won't, Nathan. I promise.

[She smiles at him. WOW, SOMEONE AS FREAKISHLY PALE AS SHE IS.]

Want some tea? Strawberries? They're all grown by my brother. I heard we'll have grapes soon, too.

Edited 2010-12-13 10:04 (UTC)

[... is this secret torture bed. he doesn't want secret torture bed.]

Uh, no to the tea. I'm a coffee- coffee person.

[Strawberries, though, he has to consider. 1) it's food. Nathan does like food.

But... 2) it's healthy. Healthy is totally not cool.]

Yeah, no, I'm fine, I can go home and get chips if I want something, have Jean-Pierre make me some fucking coffee, you know? [Though now he inquires because Sirkka either never told him or forgot.] You guys fucking health nuts or something? Who the fuck grows their own strawberries. And grapes.

Ah, right. Americans don't drink as much tea. I forgot.

[She has no qualms popping a strawberry into her mouth then. She chews politely, swallows, and then says the next part a tad softer.]

Refugees of the end of the world. There aren't any grocery stores or cars. No electricity outside of Whitechapel. Just a lot of water and lost people.

Seriously?

[He stares in response. Yep. One word reply and a stare because no way.]

[She nods.]

All we have for radio is the watchtower. No TV, no internet, no music. It's not as bad as it sounds, though. We've managed to live well despite that-- we did it once, didn't we?-- and having access to the Plane is good for specific things.

I would totally shoot myself in that situation. Hands down. Bang, right in the skull.

[He so would. That sounds horrible.]

I mean, okay, no tv, fine. No internet... ugh, that really fucking sucks. No music? Fuck that. I'm a musician, no music doesn't- doesn't work for, for, uh, me.

Don't be like that. Besides, they don't make guns anymore.

[IT IS HORRIBLE, BUT SIRKKA... SPENDS HER TIME... WITH PEOPLE. Constantly. People. All the time. People make it better.]

You can still write music and songs. Playing them just becomes difficult.

[She sips her tea thoughtfully.]

I'd love to bring music back to Whitechapel. Caz would be interested. We're still busy with the housing project, though.

[He lifts the cuffed hand to play with the handcuffs again.]

Acoustic is gay.

[He tries to see if he can somehow slide the cuff over his massive gigantic manhands. Nope. He can't. He still tries.]

Housing project? Like... rebuilding, uh, a house or something?

It's not appropriate for death metal, I know. But don't you like other kinds of music?

[She watches Nathan work at the cuff with a coy smile.]

Not quite. We took in about a hundred refugees, so we had to fix up places for them to live. Houses tend to fall into a state of disrepair when they're abandoned for a few years.

[It's shiny and has his attention.]

Yeah uh, I so wouldn't do that. I mean- um, my employees? They live in Mordhaus too, but you know, I'm not fucking... repairing things for them. They repair it for me! ...And themselves... because they live there. Also. Some of them.

[Man he shouldn't have cuffed this so tight, he can't slip his hand through!!!]

You have certain talents that don't lie in manual labor, and that's just fine. I'm not a celebrity or anything though. We all do our share. [TRANSLATION: you're ridiculous, but you're tolerable. It's cute like a puppy gnawing on a bone that's five times bigger than he is.

She glances down at his cuff problem.]

Need some help~?

[asjk;lajklfkl;as;lf I am so sorry.]

No!

[Pause.]

... yes. I put it on too tight, and, uh, I can't- I cannot slip it off.

[The outburst makes her blink, and then she giggles softly.] The keys should have been in the package. Here, let me see. [The cuff springs open with a light touch.]

[He rubs his wrist and then awkwardly puts the cuffs partially in a pocket.]

I'll check the wrapping paper after, make sure I didn't drop it... but, uh, how did you do that? Was that like when, when you were, uh, shoving me to the ground before? That's pretty cool.

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♥ oh be your own strength

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