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

[sunshinehan]

There was enough in that body language for Majima to read it. Maybe it was his time at the Grand, reading customers to figure out what they liked, what services they wanted without having to explicitly say it. Maybe he'd just picked it up off the streets. Maybe it had been beaten into him. As a kid he wasn't that great at it. He'd grown up quick after his sworn brother went to jail without him.

He made a sound of vague agreement with her. It was true.

It didn't mean he wasn't actually what people thought he was. Picking a fight with him was detrimental to ones health. He didn't hold back in a fight. He had been part of the yakuza, he was a shady guy, he still had contacts in the underworld. Some things didn't change with time.

That was neither here nor there for now though. Majima went silent for a moment as he looked away. When his gaze returned to her he made a thoughtful hum. It was easy to change the subject at least.

"What happened to you?" He eyed her wrists. Don't think just because he had one eye that he missed much. As one old man put it: his perception of things had just shifted, become more focused, made up for his loss by being hyper-attentive. Now was as good a time as any to bring it up. Shift the focus from him to her. "That don't look so good. You need something for it?"

[not_caroline]

She looks down at her exposed wrist, and meets his gaze with a frigid evenness. "The guards thought it'd be funny to put a fourteen-year-old in heated cuffs, I guess."

Okay, so maybe she wasn't going to waste energy on a persistent act here, but that didn't mean she wasn't prepared to try other, easier methods. Appealing to Majima's biases, he already hates the guards so nothing changes if he hates them a bit more. Easier than trying to explain any of her magic bullshit when she couldn't prove it, didn't want to and had no reason. She wants to keep that ace in the hole as long as possible.

She pulls her sleeve back over her hand, though, like she's self-conscious of it. "They said they wanted to give me something to cry about. Sick bastards."

[sunshinehan]

Heated cuffs? Was that a real thing? He supposed with the magic of this world it actually was possible here. And probably without much evidence left behind. After all, they could do it with any old pair of cuffs if all it required was a bit of magic out of thin air to heat them.

It seemed a strange thing to do--especially to a kid--but then everything about this whole situation was strange. And shitty. The guards here were the fucking worst. Who the fuck did that to a kid, even if they were by some dumb standards 'a failure'. Fuck this place.

She probably wasn't surprised to see his face get downright mean when she told him that line. It went dark, his eye sparking with something dangerous. He looked like if he could get out of this cell right now he would walk over to the guards this instance and beat the shit out of them old school style. He fucking would have, too, if he could.

"Fucked up bastards. They better tread carefully or someone's going to make them regret being assholes one day."