Open Log for June

[not_caroline]

WHO: Coraline and folks!
WHAT: Meeting her roommates and everyone else and hating all of this.
WHERE: Cell 4, the outside area and the canteen!
WHEN: June 12 - 19
NOTES: Probably more toplevels incoming as June goes on!

Jail Cell 4 - June 12-13

Given that there are three grown men - not only strangers, but ones with obvious airs of power and menace to them - you would expect the mid-teen girl locked in there with them to be at least somewhat threatened, or at least remotely cowed by their presence. Certainly she spends most of her day curled up on the top left bunk, her chubby but slight form utterly drowning in the tunic and pants (she'd forgo the sandals completely if the floor wasn't so cold).

Instead, Coraline is about five seconds away from harassing them all at any given point in time.

The two white-haired lackeys interest her the most. The scraggly muscular one reminded her too much of Hunter to even remotely register as a threat; he was even all scarred up. This was clearly a man who was used to fighting for his life, and something about him said to Coraline that he was used to people being scared of him as well. The way he held himself, always so stiff-backed and glare-y. He was tall enough that the top of his head is within easy reach of her bunk when he was standing, and she could almost reach it to harass him while he was meditating or something too. So sometimes she does, letting her arm trail over the side of her bunk and try to flick strands of his hair; or reach both arms down to try and inexpertly braid it.

The Sephiroth knock-off was handsome - well, more pretty, really, but she could see herself crushing on that, if she let herself actually engage with that childish part of herself. Instead she stares at him, watching him be all sullen and sulky and mopey on his bunk, with no sense of decorum or propriety. She's just staring at him, mostly, but when he lets out some dramatic sigh she mimics it perfectly, trying to get a reaction.

The third guy she kind of likes. The weird Japanese-looking guy with the missing eye. He seemed nice, which was weird considering the, you know. Entire missing eye thing. He looked like the mafia or something. More interesting, however, was the fact he felt completely and totally normal - not like Geralt with his blatant high fantasy bullshit (again he looks so much like Hunter that the thought he might not be magic doesn't cross Coraline's mind) and Alucard-- like, come on. But Majima's just some dude, and she can't help but be a little bit concerned when she sees him come into the cell with the shit just absolutely beaten out of him.

At least with those three she doesn't make a point to put on her (in her personal opinion, expertly manipulative) 'o woe is me, a poor childe stuck in jail with three grown men, hwhatever shall I do' act. Not least because none of them read as active threats; it's more she just doesn't want to waste the energy on trying to screw with three people at once. She stays terse and quiet instead, only bothering to put on the act when someone new comes along outside; that's when the waterworks start, her big hazel eyes swelling with tears and gentle, snivelling shivers start wracking her slight form, perched on her raised bunk with her arms wrapped tight around her knees.

Free Time - June 12-13

Well, now that she knows for a fact that her magic doesn't work here, she sees a fair bit less reason to engage with the courtyard and all the shitty gym supplies it has. But a full hour of sunlight is nothing to sneeze at, and she always makes a point of choosing a spot in the yard that she can drag one of the benches over to, so she can sit with her back to the sun and feel at least a little bit better. It was hard balancing being a Darkling with being a Dryad, when one was repulsed by the sunlight the other needed, but at least sitting in her sunlit corner watching the other prisoners do their own thing, she feels a little bit more hearty and secure in herself; at the very least, she can continue staring down other inmates and try to get a better read on the people she's only ever seen from a distance through multiple sets of bars.

Cell 4 (-3) - June 14-18 evenings only

Well, this was unpleasant.

She knew everyone in jail was getting shipped out to some mining thing - she'd heard talk between the guards before, about getting a break, and she'd made sure to get someone to get her out of it as soon as possible - but she hadn't anticipated them not being there when she got back that first evening. And when she looked around, after getting locked back in her cell... so was everyone else.

She was completely alone. And as much as she gave her roommates shit for simply existing in the same space as her, right now she really misses it. The entire place felt way too cold and empty, and she ends up stealing Geralt's bunk after the first night to cuddle up and feel a little bit less scared. She's not used to that; she's always spent her life with at least one other person always nearby - solitude was a scary thing that meant there was no-one to protect her (not that she needed it, it was just nice).

Comments

[not_caroline]

[Coraline's used to not having much food at all, and long stretches without; having regular but unfulfilling meals, she's decided, is worse. She much prefers not knowing when it was coming at all, rather than counting down the hours for something she knows will be a disappointment.

She just lies down on her bunk, tearing small chunks off the bread to nibble on.]

It's not a very good one. [Because you can have good flaws, apparently.] People that might be nice to you are gonna be scared off, and people that'd be okay with hurting you won't be scared of it because they're trying to be a pain.

[gynvael]

[ That is a topic Geralt already knows he will not engage in. He's gathered quickly no one knows what he is here. He'd have been recognized on sight if that were the case. And while he doesn't care to hide that he's something other than human -- the amber glow of eyes give him away as it is -- getting into it requires a long history lesson titled What Are Witchers and Why Does the Continent Despise Us; subtitled: We Likely Didn't Help Matters.

Geralt is not a lecturer, so she'll have to get that lesson from someone else. Instead, the rickety bunk beneath groans as he shifts his weight and lays down. The bed is lumpy, scratchy. It's shit. Half the time, he sleeps on the floor where it's at least flat. It's what he's used to, anyway. ]

Are you going to assign me a better one, then?

[not_caroline]

[There's a non-committal hum overhead (that's totally not half a bite of food in her mouth) as she deliberates the question. Truthfully, she can't think of any that aren't going to just insult Geralt, and she enjoys the stoic man's company just enough that making him legitimately mad at her is currently off the table.]

I'm not really about forcing people to be terrible. What's the point in making them worse when most of the time they're already bastards?

[gynvael]

[ He's expecting, honestly, another glib comment. That it doesn't come makes him glance up from underneath her bed. The sound he makes is thoughtful. There's a reason he's indulged her more than he should, but he doesn't care to dig too deeply into what they are.

It complicates matters. He'd have preferred being jailed with men he doesn't need to think twice about leaving behind if it comes down to that. ]

Hard to make them worse.

[ Funny. He almost can't decide if she means to include him in that or not. Fitting, either way. ]

[not_caroline]

I've seen ways.

[Her volume doesn't change, but her tone is curiously, carefully devoid of emotion. Which is more telling than she intends it to be, she realises a little too late, and shoves another piece of bread in her mouth, trying to sound more natural when she speaks again.]

It's not like everyone's a sack of shit all the time. The ones that are just make a point of flapping their gums about it.

[gynvael]

[ Telling, but not something Geralt chooses to pry at. She's only a girl, and he's all but a stranger, despite the long hours they've been trapped together.

Some doors are not meant to be opened, anyway. He's learned that lesson a long time ago. He turns a few thoughts in his head before posing something that's lingered on his mind since they've met: namely, she's not asked him what he is. Nor has it escaped him that the guards have switched her bindings, without the simple iron of everyone else's. If certain creatures existed similarly in his world, he might've put two and two together. But they don't.

It's not her he asks about, in the end, suspecting she's even more likely to avoid answering if he does. ]

Your caretaker. He's human?

[not_caroline]

[Ah. So he could tell something was off about her. She's not surprised; even without Contracts or anything, magic was in her blood now - 'like recognises like', as Hunter would say, but the phrase that comes to Coraline's mind is 'matching vibes' - she recognised him as Weird too. Or Wyrd, whatever.

Whatever he is, she's glad he's not asking about her directly.]

He's a big ugly Ogre. I think he'd like you.

[Non-committal, of course; plausible deniability is key until she has a better read on this place. But her tone is extremely fond.]

[gynvael]

[ So her world's not dissimilar from his. He considers that. Exactly what she might be is less of a question in his mind than the fact that she doesn't seem bothered by what he is—though her reply answers that neatly, if she's spent most of her life around a, what. A fucking ogre? They make a picture together, he imagines.

Must be different than the ogres he knows. They're less the protective sort, more prone to smashing heads. ]

I can't say I've ever had an ogre take a liking to something like me.

[ It's a distinct choice of words: not someone, but something. Whatever suspicions she may or may not voice, Geralt has few qualms confirming them unprompted. He's never much cared to pretend to be human.

Besides, he's hardly alone. Alucard's been less than careful about flashing his teeth sometimes. Geralt has his suspicions there, too, even if he's left it alone for now. ]

[not_caroline]

[The confirmation is nice, but she doesn't bother trying to lean over the bunk to stare at him some more. It's not like she'll get anything new yet.

She does roll onto her side, pulling up the meagre blanket to try and make it more comfortable.]

He's tame, now. Not like he used to be. [You wouldn't know he used to this impossibly dangerous hunter-servant, very nearly turned into a real monster. Now he had wraparound sunnies and wore cargo shorts.] He doesn't go picking fights or starting shit, he's just. A Dad, kind of.

[gynvael]

[ Geralt makes a noise deep in his throat, faintly amused. ]

A housebroken ogre? Now I've heard everything.

[ How much of what she's saying is true? Hard to determine, but Geralt also doesn't care. Horseshit or not, if she wants to tell him her father figure is a reformed and oddly intelligent ogre, he'll take it for what it is. He can sense that, either way, her fondness for her guardian is real.

It raises the question of whether anyone's looking for her. For the others. Not him, though. He knows if the winter months go by and he doesn't show at the keep's worn gates, they'll simply assume the Path finally took him. ]

[not_caroline]

[What do you know, the man can laugh. Coraline just shrugs, even thought he can't see it.]

I've seen him doing his own thing, before, it was... incredible. [But still - the sight of him ripping apart some poor half-mad Beast with his bare hands? Still utterly horrifying.] He's not like other Ogres I know, he acts so... dignified. All above it all.

[She gives a small hum, almost amused as she puts her bread in her pocket.] You'd think a guy missing an arm wouldn't be so fucking good at looking all diplomatic.

[gynvael]

Mm. Then you've not met many diplomats.

[ A small blessing of being imprisoned is he's yet to have to bother with whatever song and dance is happening up court. Half are idiots; the other half are conniving, and too many are mired in arrogance. Geralt's patience only goes so far.

His eyes close; if Coraline cares to look, it's clear he's finished conversing for now -- though she's managed to get more out of him than most as it is. ]

[not_caroline]

[There's more than a few cracks that split the aged, decrepit wood of the bunks. So when she hears that quiet hum from him, she glances through one to sate her curiosity, and isn't fully surprised to see he's shut his eyes.

She watches him for a few seconds, just in case; but there'd been a bit of finality to his tone, then, and she's not going to press that. She's given him enough harassment for one night, probably. She just rolls onto her other side to wait for sleep.]