IC Inbox - Meadowlark

[hierophante]

@oa.johnson | ■ ▲ ◌ ▼

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@jack.miller

[personalwar]

[ The decision to reach out to her is not one that Jack comes to with any kind of ease. The very act of doing it betrays that he's not sure what he's doing at best and outright weakness at worst. But the OA hadn't come across as someone who judged others, and she has some kind of experience with what Jack is dealing with now.

So, here he is. In the form of a text message, anyway. ]

Hey. It's been a while.

[ It's an awkward way to start, but Jack's not sure how to smoothly segue into "I'm temporarily blind," so. ]

[hierophante]

[To say it's a surprise would be a bit of an understatement. Of all the people she's encountered here, Jack is one of the last she'd have expected to reach out to her specifically, certainly in so... carefully casual a manner. It's intriguing, to say the least -- and oddly cheering.

She's smiling to herself as she responds, which is all but impossible to relay through text but may be just tangible all the same.]

Jack, who isn't kind. How can I help you?

[personalwar]

[ While the smile behind the text doesn't entirely come through, Jack can still recall how unflappable and lacking in judgment the OA had been during their initial meeting. Not just that, but she was the sort of person who wanted to look out for the people around her and wanted the best for them -- even if they were strangers. Maybe it's partly her demeanor that had allowed him to feel able to reach out to her, too. ]

Just Jack is fine.

Not sure if you were in the know, but a handful of us struck a deal with Cassius and as a result we got our implants removed. As in, brain surgery.

[hierophante]

No. No, I didn't know. I lost some time recently. Are you all right?

@stephen.strange

[rehandle]

[ It's been a while, longer perhaps than he should've let it run, but in his (weak) defense he's been busy. Finally, many many days overdue and wry for it in a way that only barely translates over text: ]

How was your trip abroad?

[hierophante]

Enlightening. Resonant. Maybe a little too much. You've heard what we found?

[rehandle]

Vaguely.

[ Even having had an account, it's unlikely to be the one she'll give him. And if he couldn't have been there this is the next best thing. ]

[hierophante]

I think in this case the context is less important than the pattern. I don't know how many of the others noticed. Maybe it was only me. Maybe it doesn't mean anything real. I don't know.

[She has, in fact, been wrangling with the problem since she returned, wobbling precariously, always on the verge of tipping over between euphoria and despair. She trusts and doubts what she feels all at once. It's good, then, that he's reached out: perhaps he can help ground her.]

Five sisters. A ruined temple, underground. Hunters in the dark. At times we were drowning. We had to move together to proceed. A vault of stars.

a dream

[larkers]

[ OA can have this dream anytime in the next IC month. ]

The dream starts off as nebulous, and perhaps remains that way. It's hard to say.

It's hard to tell when you developed consciousness—thought, clarity, focus. One moment, there was a vast nothingness. You were nothing. Then you were something. Shaping and crafting, turning into a formless essence, eventually transforming, given life, feelings, emotions. You're all one thing, and then you're many things, divided among seven, not devouring it all, not taking hold of it all. You know it would be too much for yourself. There is a process to these things, even if you don't recall when the process itself started.

You know that the others like you aren't you and were you, at once, offshooting and becoming who they were. Are.

The world evolves, shapes, becomes. Reality—the picture you envision—becomes more than a conceptual entity. It becomes the focus, the heart of who you are, what you're doing.

There is life.

You don't define yourself as Life.

You are rules, thoughts, the framework of existence.

What you know as Life becomes to see and acknowledge you for what you are. And you acknowledge them as dependent upon you. Or You.

@stephen.strange, backdated to the day before the earthquake

[rehandle]

[ He spends a couple of days making choices. Some are the right ones, some aren't. Some could be either. But eventually, the choice to avoid reality slips out of his hands.

Of the handful of people who might understand, now there are only two left who were ever part of the layer beyond. He's already talked to Damian. And he knows her well enough by now to know that his staying silent would frustrate her more than breaking his silence with his own, misshapen pain. All conversations need a beginning sometime.

Bluntly, then, with jest. Making a game of it. Because it is, in its way, all just exactly that. Layers on layers. ]

I'm down a couple of mouths to feed.

[ Not a clear message, but it's a start. He can pull it around from there. ]

[hierophante]

I'm sorry.

[Perhaps not perfectly clear, but clear enough. She knows him well enough to know that he, like her, finds meaning in feeding. She also knows him well enough to have some faith he'll read what follows as what it is: a genuine apology, not an admonishment. One she'd deliver, were they face to face, with the still, solemn sadness she always holds close.]

I can't dispense purpose. What should I do instead?

[rehandle]

You don't have to do anything. It needed to be real.

[ She's done enough just in reading and responding. He had to finally make it fact. ]

Thank you.

[hierophante]

I know. You don't have to be alone with it either.

[I want to, she thinks to say, but what she wants is less than relevant right now. This feels... delicate. On the cusp of an airing of grievances, only the grievances aren't hers and they aren't directed at her either.

They've made mistakes. Mistakes that hurt. Mistakes from which she's certain they're both still recovering.

The blame does not rest as squarely on his shoulders as she fears he might imagine.]

I'm not working today. My place is quiet.

[Another message follows, after a delay that might be deliberate.]

You don't have to talk. I can teach you how to move.

@miriam.maisel

[maisel]

OA,

I just found pretty much the holy grail of stores. Apparently everything I own is just "vintage" now.

I'd love the company if you've got nothing going on. We can have lunch, too, my treat.

When are you free?

-Midge

[hierophante]

Must be kismet. I don't have any appointments today. Where should I meet you?


[There follows after a bit of waffling -- is it clear that she's joking? -- and the appending and then deletion then appending again of a smiley face, another message:]

You're not planning on asking a blind woman for outfit advice, are you? :)

[maisel]

No, I'm asking for a friend to talk with. The outfit advice should come naturally.

[ One of these days she's going to learn to do emojis and smiley faces herself. ]

How about we meet at this cute little boutique I found? We can wander around until we get hungry and then go at it for round two.

@stephen.strange, backdated to sometime vaguely earlier than this

[rehandle]

I have a favor to ask.

[hierophante]

Then odds are good I have a favor to give. How can I help?

[rehandle]

You might be sorry you said that.

I need a place to stay for a new arrival. Ideally with a live-in good influence.

@stephen.strange, audio.

[rehandle]

[ Texting has lost its lustre lately. Instead...

@ stephen.strange is calling. ]

[hierophante]

[The soundscape blossoms across the line before her voice does. Her space connects to his -- her breathing half-ragged, city noise swelling and then ebbing, growing muffled and distant. She's been running.

OA presses her back against the alley wall and turns her gaze skyward. Long breath in, long breath out.]

Stephen.

[A little out of breath, but undeniably bright. There are many things she could say, but instead:]

What's up?

[rehandle]

[ The line opens and he holds his breath. Listens to the city falling back as she moves through it to somewhere quieter.

Then his name in a voice the betrays no hesitation. ]

Hey.

[ The relief of being received without complication blows the cobwebs right out of whatever it was he might have said next. Sorry it's been so long or I've been meaning to ask how you've been, since... turn abruptly into - ]

It's good to hear your voice. [ Nothing that needs a reply. ] You're brave, running in this heat.

@clarke.griffin

[strove]

How are you?

[In a way, she misses her. Misses the unique way she thinks and feels and embraces the world. Clarke feels strangely at peace in OA's presence, and with everything going on, she decides she needs that.

Plus, she does care for her. It's the kind of care that feels like it can lapse in contact, so she hopes her message isn't too out of blue. Hopefully they can pick up as easily as breathing after holding in a breath.]

[hierophante]

[It takes two. Two to converse, two to fail to do so. The fullness of the intermittent time is only so much of an excuse. The message blips into OA's awareness and she pauses. The pang of guilt is less important than the reality of the thing, the moment of connection, which leaves her head a-tilt and smiling to herself.]


Clarke! So good to see that name. :) I'm... in the trough of a wave, I think, though I get the feeling that many of us are lately! How have YOU been?

[strove]

[A trough of a wave. With OA, it's honestly remarkable that she doesn't speak to her regularly. Hearing speak like that really does help, oddly enough.]

I think I'm slipping into it for the sake of everyone else. We're all on tense, uncertain ground. I came out of that world all right. That was a version of me I needed, at least for a while.

I wasn't sure where you were there. And I'm sorry if I should've known. I ... lost sight of a lot, and the most recent events are what I recall most.