abraxaslogs | Open Log for June

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Open Log for June

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).

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[ There's some irony to being tossed in the dungeons after he just got out, mm. Three days ago? Four? Hard to say; keeping track of time wasn't on his mind when he was dying on the back of a merchant's cart.

Upside: he's no longer dying. Downside: he has company.

No one's tried to kill him, though. Yet. He'll take it. He can ignore folks. It's what he proceeds to do, though he does offer his name (once) and quietly takes notes of theirs. Of what he can overhear in the neighboring cells, he takes note, too.

After the first few times the girl's refused to fuck off, Geralt's given up in keeping her out of his hair, literally. Doesn't seem worth the breath. So occasionally, he sports a partial braid in hair that's gradually turning from white-silver to a muddy grey. Or he thinks, in any case. No mirrors. Not that he cares to know his appearance; like shit seems a safe assumption.

He's chewing on his portion of bread while the girl puts on her performance for whoever's happened by their cell. She's not bad, in truth. Makes him think of the orphans in the alleys of Novigrad, looking to swipe some coin from your pockets.

Only when the show's over does he speak up, his typical dryness tinged with the faintest amusement. ]

How many have you swindled to date? [ He's not looking in her direction, but he's clearly addressing her. ] Or too many to count?

[She has to lift a hand to wipe the excess tears from her eyes as her latest project fades, so they and her nose are a little red, but her voice is back from its pathetic lilt; bored now, slightly annoyed as she gives a noncommittal hum.]

Less than you'd think. [She sits on the end of his bunk and lifts a leg so she can curl around her raised knee.] Mostly it was just one person, but now I don't really need to. I've got someone who has my back, back home.

[But the thought of Hunter not being here - hell, even her dad, or her Fetch would be pleasant enough company, because it's someone she knows. Geralt was nice in his gruff way, but he wasn't hers.]

And it's not swindling. [It's hard to tell if she's being sincere when she says that, as dry as she is.] It's just making the most of every opportunity I have.

The waterworks definitely worked better than his casual indifference whenever visitors came by so he let her have at them most of the time. It was also vaguely amusing to watch considering he knew her behind the scenes so to speak. The whole deception thing didn't bother him from this side--he couldn't say he didn't ever deploy similar tactics of his own while running his business as the manager of the Grand Cabaret--though if he had been on the other side and discovered it later he might have been angered by it.

That didn't mean he didn't talk to his own fair share of visitors, but it did mean that often times he would say something to her whenever someone was approaching and he noted it wasn't a guard, essentially siccing her at them as he surreptitiously moved out of the way. It was a sweet deal and, hey, he was used to coaching girls how to charm the pants off the privileged dicks that came to chat with pretty young things. What was one more?

Then there was the daily beating. It was better than it had been when he'd first arrived here. Maybe the guards were losing their momentum. Or maybe he was getting used to it (again) and the pain didn't hurt so much anymore. He felt a bit better once he got back to the cell and moved directly to his bunk where, after the guards were assuredly gone, he took out his eye patch and put it back on--he didn't want the guards taking it away from him out of spite that one of the honored guests favored him so much so took it off and hid it when they approached the cell. Then he took out a pack of cigarettes and popped one into his mouth. He didn't have any way to light it yet but the sensation was comforting enough on its own for now to trick his brain into peace and calm. If he was lucky, Kiryu would return with some matches later.

He stared across the cell at the young girl who was watching him. "What?" he asked without removing the cig from his mouth. "Ain't used to a dashing rogue coming back from the wilds with bruises and abrasions aplenty? This ain't anything." He waved a hand in the air dismissively. "I've gotten worse from shoddy massage parlors before."

That gets a mild snort out of Coraline, who can't help but grin a little at the ridiculous statement. "You're not dashing. And aren't you a little old for me anyway?"

She rolls out of her curled up little position and lies on her stomach, languorous and uncharmed as she props her chin on one hand (and the act makes her sleeve fold on itself, revealing the angry burns around her wrists she's been mostly attempting to hide) and looks down her nose at him with amusement. Easier to hide it under contemptuous amusement than indicate she might actually give a shit, and now he's back the guards tended to give them some berth. "The fuck are they beating you for, anyway? You can't be that much of a stain on that fucking wizard's honour."

Wow, crush his hopes and dreams with that resolute statement. All right, to be fair, he knew absolutely no one thought of him as dashing or even vaguely handsome thanks to his missing eye and subsequent eye patch. No big deal.

That didn't prevent him from acting huffy about it anyway. "I'm not that old!" Seriously, he was only twenty-four. Why did teenagers always call him old? "I can be charming if I want, ya know. But why waste my effort on what's in here?"

All that was mild and half hearted at best. There wasn't much offense there but if they were going to play that game then Majima was going to give back what he got. Oh the other hand, his next words darkened a bit as his voice deepened. It wasn't her but the topic.

"Oh, you never know. Maybe they thought they'd continue the tradition." He said with a scowl, though it wasn't aimed at her but rather the thought of the prick that had brought them all here. "Maybe they don't like one-eyed monsters. People tend to look at them in disgust."

[ The sound that Geralt makes suggests he believes the two things to be one and the same, but also that he's not interested in debating semantics.

His gaze slides briefly towards her as she sits beside him. Majima won't keep his mouth shut about a damn thing, but both Coraline and Alucard have been more elusive about themselves. It's the way he prefers it. There's little reason to grow close to anyone in here.

But occasionally, a tidbit falls here or there that he decides to catch. ]

A friend?

That's anywhere between seven and ten years based on Real Time, buddy, you're shit out of luck.

She sees the subtle shift in his body language before his tone audibly changes; a subtle shift inwards, that glare focused through one eye that almost makes her tense before he looks away, and her interest rises as her fear lowers again. Well, that was definitely some kind of in.

"I've met real monsters." Her tone is indifferent, almost bored, but her gaze on him is sharp. "Having one eye's a pretty shitty way to try and make someone one - there's way worse out there."

[The question gets a light snort, an automatic reaction more than anything else, and she looks up at him like she can't believe he just asked her that.

(She can, really; Geralt didn't strike her as the type to use any more words than necessary, and so far none of them had been jokes. Maybe he lost his funny bone in the war.)]

A caretaker. People think I need protecting, but I can take care of myself.

Thank goodness he wasn't actually flirting with her. It was somewhere between his usual sarcastic self and just a bit of fun. He just went along with it once she baited him with the 'old' comment. But seriously? Hadn't she seen the other two occupants? Why waste his good charm on the company they kept in here? All joking aside, it would have been nice to continue that silly wit and retort routine but that wasn't where the conversation headed. Alas.

"You and me both," he replied. After all, the monster(s) that took his eye and tortured him for a year were still out there. Majima didn't need to meet any supernatural creatures to know that humans were often the worst monsters out there. "That doesn't make other people less afraid of what they perceive to be a threat to their way of life. Even a simple change can sometimes drive them over the edge."

[ Geralt only looks back, a quirk in his eyebrow. A caretaker. Not a noble girl, is she? She doesn't look like one. He just can't imagine a commoner of her age being assigned a caretaker. She's young, but hardly a small child. ]

Mm. [ He splits his bread in two, setting the other half back down. It's not an explicit offer, but if she decides to snatch it, he won't stop her. ] Could've fooled me.

[ Yeah. She's obviously fine on her own. Her presence has also served to tell him all he cares to know about his companions: neither of them have tried to hassle her.

It doesn't say everything. But it says enough. ]

[Her eyes follow sharply as he puts the bread down in arms reach, but the rest of her expression is shamelessly smug.]

That's the whole point, you know? If people take me for granted they're not gonna waste the energy on hurting me. I'm safer behind someone, but I didn't choose him-- my caretaker. He just decided to start coddling me like a fucking mother hen.

The smug look on her face fades then, looking a bit more sober - and there's something a bit startled in it for a moment, surprised out of her by his frankness.

She knows there's nothing outward to give away her own suffering through other people's monstrosities - nothing she'd gotten left visible marks. Just her eyes, cold and hard and watching Majima carefully with a bit too much gold around her irises.

She just hums, a quiet and non-committal sound as she leans up and grabs her pillow to tuck under her chest. "People don't know what threats look like, most of the time. It's stupid. It's why it's so easy for monsters to always get their way."

[Alucard has absolutely noticed that every time he lets out a noise, there's a second one, usually with an undercurrent of mockery. He doesn't presume that it is anything more than a child wanting for attention though - the waterworks that happen every so often shows a shrewd enough mind that makes it clear.

So he doesn't engage. He isn't in the mood, and it's a strangely effective deterrent for himself. Fewer noises of self pity ensue over the next few days, until he's mostly quiet for the bulk of the morning of the 13th.

The staring doesn't stop though, and it becomes uncomfortable enough that that is what finally gets a reaction. Terse, but not combative. The best he can manage right now.]

I realize there are precious few sights in these four cramped walls, but the intensity is unwelcome.

[Coraline doesn't flinch when she finally gets a proper response out of the reticent drama queen, but she's very noticeably on alert for a hot few seconds until he actually speaks; and then she moves easily back into her previous sedate pose. No visible movement on her end at all, but a definite passing-through of complex emotions.

And then she opens her mouth.]

I realize there are precious few sights in these four cramped walls, but the intensity is unwelcome.

[Yes she sure is parroting his own words back at him in a blatant (and rather poor) imitation of his voice. Hers can't quite get that deep, and the accent is obviously over-done, but she's really not trying to do more than get a reaction.]

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?"

[Right. He probably should have anticipated a response like that. Alucard takes a moment to consider what options are truly available to him as far a response goes, and after the moment passes, he realizes a simple thing: there's nothing viable. He's stuck in a cell with two other people, he is not the kind of person to throw hands with a teenager, and any words out of his mouth are going to get the same mocking tone in return.

The only option available is silence, and so he does just that. He goes quiet again, closing his eyes to make it clear that he's not engaging any further at this point.]

[The new and annoyed silence doesn't particularly bother Coraline. She's just gonna keep staring at him for a bit longer.

He's a sensible person, then, to some degree. Not picking fights with a caged teen in front of people. Clearly she'll have to try harder to get a reaction.

When she does eventually open her mouth again, at least she's using her normal voice. Her accent's Australian, so probably very foreign to Alucard.]

You know, you'd be really pretty if you smiled.

[ A flicker of understanding crosses his expression. Makes more sense. There's a brief moment where it seems his thoughts wander, a twitch in his fingers -- stray questions of whether Cirilla would've thought the same of him had he actually returned for the girl in time -- but they're questions he veers away from quickly.

He studies her for a moment. ] Didn't you?

[ Because, Geralt thinks, if she hadn't wanted this man in her life, he wouldn't still be there in such a capacity. But she doesn't speak of him with any genuine distaste. Not in a way that he can sense, at least. Seems to him she's made some kind of choice in the end. As they all do, one way or another. ]

Edited 2021-06-14 22:17 (UTC)

[She meets his gaze readily, steady and defiant; but she also looks away first, bringing her legs up to fold on the bunk and leaning on one arm with comfortable indifference towards Geralt, even as she turns her gaze out of their small cell.]

I didn't, actually. He chose me.

[And there's something in the way she says it that betrays how it's so much more complicated than that. But then she looks back at Geralt with a bit more fire in her eyes.]

He's a good person. He's just... always worried about me. It's stifling. I'm basically an adult.

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."

[Thank goodness he's a few centuries too early to know how to classify that.

Instinct says to scowl deeper. Alucard resists that much, favoring a slightly wordier response.]

I don't believe being pretty is of use at the current moment.

Well being a case study in being bitter and sad isn't helping either.

[She pushes herself up into a sitting position, now that he's actually engaging with her. She can see him wanting to scowl, and has to school a pleased smirk off her own face.]

You're not even like, usefully sad. You're just brooding.

[called out and then some.

He manages a more flat, unimpressed look in response. How this stranger knows the exact buttons to push at the moments is a mystery, but at least there can be more give and take than her previous track.]

How would you define usefully sad?

What, you haven't seen my waterworks?

[She sits up and preens a little, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Granted, she's making herself terribly thirsty, but putting on some tears and a sob story every time someone who wasn't another prisoner or Majima's regular benefactor was so far doing pretty well in garnering her open sympathy.]

With how many people come and visit us, you could totally use that to get someone to pity you enough to help get you out.

I'd classify those as acting, if I am being utterly blunt at the moment.

[Alucard's barely reacted to anyone approaching the cell, save for the earlier moment when Hector tried to use smith tools to break through the chains. The silent treatment was not winning him friends, but that was in his opinion for the better.

There's a quiet appraisal of the statement.]

That is not my preferred method of gaining allies.

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Open Log for June

Jun 12.

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13 June

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