August/September top-level

[paramnesiarules]

Who: Helen Richardson (paramnesiarules) & anyone else who wants to meet the new Spiral-touched weirdo~

What: First meetings galore!

When: Last week of August and first week of September, before Dahlia's big birthday bash

Where: Anywhere there are people!

Warning(s): Discussion of madness, trauma, and depersonalization.

The Oak & Iron

On her first morning in this strange new world, Helen embarrassed herself terribly.

She'd been quite pleased with how she was holding it together -- sure, her memories of speaking with Mayor Poe were a bit fuzzy, and it took her a few minutes to remember where she was when she woke up in her room in the inn...but she'd stayed calm. Cool. Professional. She's gotten out of bed, washed her face, combed out her hair -- even taken a moment to admire the old timey charm of the secondhand clothes she'd been given, like something out of a period drama. She'd gone downstairs. She'd ordered breakfast -- just something simple, bacon and eggs and a slice of toast. She'd sat down and waited for it to come to her -- and that was when everything fell apart.

It was the smells that did her in. And the sounds. And the...colors. Her egg, when her plate was set down in front of her, was a rich inviting yellow, nearly orange. The bacon was red-brown with white streaks of fat, and smelled warmly of cooked pork and grease. At the table behind her, two people were talking quietly about a party that was supposed to happen in a few weeks. The wood grain of her own table was smooth and warm under her hands. Everything was soft and...somehow gentle. There were no hard corners or harsh smells, no eye-searing artificial colors. Everything was natural and gentle, homey even though it was just an inn. Like it had been designed to make people relax and feel safe -- and it probably had been.

It was too much. Helen tried to hold it back, tried to stop it -- but she failed. With no other recourse she covered her face with her hands as, as quietly as she could, she began to cry.

Greymare Library

The scratching of her pencil is awkwardly loud in the quiet room. Helen cringes and tries to draw more quietly, but she doesn't stop. She's almost done, and once her map of the island is finished -- maybe she'll feel better? Maybe she'll feel <i>safer</i>, once she knows where everything is and where it's supposed to be. Once she can be sure that she'll <i>notice</i>, if anything changes...

She draws a final line and puts her pencil down with a sigh. One last thing, and then her little project should be complete. She's not sure which of the people wandering the stacks are patrons and which are employees are the library, so she simply corners the first person she sees and asks them plainly, "Excuse me. Do you work here?"

Temple of Seasons

The local church is small and quaint, and seems to exert a pull on Helen that fills her with a quiet, trembling fear. The doors are thick and heavy, and seem to almost whisper to her, promising safety and tranquility, but -- she can't bring herself to touch the handle. She sits on the front steps instead, arms wrapped tightly around herself, and tries to pretend that she's just taking a break. Just a little rest, that's all. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Tawny Beach

The beach is crowded, but it bothers her less when she can look out on the open ocean. It stretches out to the horizon, a flat, blue plain broken with the white caps of cresting waves. Like a badly-installed carpet beginning to bunch and pull up from the floor, she thinks, and the thought is amusing rather than nauseating. In all other respects it is completely unlike an interior hallway -- and if her eyes should start to leak again, it's easily blamed on the salt air. Now if only she could shake this ridiculous and cliche conviction that people are staring at her, everything would be...just. Perfect.

Comments

[blindwatchersees]

One way or another, her wanderings lead her to the boardwalk. The smell of the sea hangs heavy and light at the same time, fresh salt and spray tinged with the musk of organic life. It's threatening to rain, but the most that's fallen so far is only a shadow of what could be called a fine mist.

Suddenly, there's a thud of hurried footfalls on the wooden planks.

"Why, I'd recognize those curls anywhere! Helen! Helen, my lass!" It's a dapper-looking bearded gentleman who's calling to her, somehow dressed to the nines in commoner's clothes.

[paramnesiarules]

Helen flinches at the sudden call, whirling around to put her back to the safety rail lining the edge of the boardwalk. Social scripts come easily to mind, but her laugh is brittle as she looks at him warily and says, "Oh, oh hi! Wow, how are you doing? How long have you been here?"

She's never seen this man before in her life, she's quite sure of that. Somehow she feels like she knows him anyway, and that. Terrifies her.

[blindwatchersees]

"Can't say how long- I've just been letting the walk take me where it will, and throwing time to the wind. Or, did you mean this realm? Been in this realm a few months." He's... wiggly. Full of energy. His excitement to see her seems undeniably genuine.

[paramnesiarules]

"Oh yeah? I just got here yesterday, myself. Still trying to get the lay of the land." She's wracking her brains now, trying to remember where she met this man before...because she must have, surely, for him to be so happy to see her? It doesn't look like an act at all, but where does he know her from?

"Hey, this is super embarrassing," There's that laugh again, brittle and fake like something out of an American film, "But I am completely blanking on your name, I'm so sorry." It's a win-win situation: if he re-introduces himself then maybe she'll be able to remember him, and if he gets offended then maybe she can get away...

[blindwatchersees]

"Oh, I understand. I was rather scattered myself when I got here. I don't suppose you remember the big, horrible boat-thing? You were there for a little while, and then... oh, or that could have been another bit of you! Ah, but you have the same curls, lovely curls... the name's Sheogorath, at your service!" He bows dramatically, with a flourish of his hands.

[paramnesiarules]

"Another...bit of me?" Disorientated, for a moment Helen pictures a literal bit of herself -- a hand, perhaps? -- scuttling around some kind of cruise ship like a macabre spider. And as it happens she has been on a cruise before, just... "Do you mean the Wolverton Kendrick company tour in 2011? On the, uh...what was it, the Diamond Princess?" Had she even talked to a single person on the trip? So far as Helen can remember, she spent the entire time holed up in her cabin fighting off a bad case of food poisoning. It'd been utterly miserable and she'd never gone back.

[blindwatchersees]

"No, no, the Serena Eterna. Pocket dimension, utterly devoid of plant life aside from myself, dreadful case of feral crocs. Though I have met a princess! And seen a diamond- a big, fancy, red diamond with weighty, metaphysical significance. Ah, but you wouldn't care to hear about that. A company tour, eh? Sounds like a stuffy sort of shindig. Happy I wasn't there!"

[paramnesiarules]

"I've -- I've never been anywhere like that," Helen says slowly. She hasn't, she's sure she hasn't, even the Diamond Princess had shitty little potted ferns around the boarding area. And then there's that phrase, 'pocket dimension.' It sounds like something out of a shitty sci-fi, or at least that's what Helen wishes it sounded like, because it reminds her...

"You're not here to take me back, are you?" she asks, her hands curling into fists. She tried running once before and it worked, but not for long. Maybe it's time to give fighting a chance, if only she weren't so terrified. "Please don't. Please, I don't want to die like that." Again...

[blindwatchersees]

His expression changes, and it feels like he’s staring right through her.

“You… oh, I see. Or rather, I don’t. You’re new, aren’t you? Not even got your wings yet, you’ve only just sloughed off your own skin. Helen, dear… I’m not about to drag you anywhere you don’t want to go.”

[paramnesiarules]

"...Okay. All right." She takes a few deep, stuttering breaths, trying to bring herself down from her sudden panic. She's still trying to keep some distance between them, though, not entirely trusting him not to suddenly lunge at her.

"Sorry, I'm...I'm kind of going through it, this week." Month. However long it's been. "Um. What do you mean, I've just sloughed my skin off?" She glances down at her own hand, as if there's any chance it might have detached itself while she wasn't looking. After the things she's seen and...and felt, it almost feels like a real possibility.

[blindwatchersees]

"Like a caterpillar, dear. A caterpillar has to shed its outsides and melt its insides before it can Become a butterfly. You've begun a process of change, and that means you've shed parts of yourself, and the rest of you is a churning flux."

His voice is so gentle now, like he's trying to explain something incredibly profound to a child. Which, in a cosmic sense, he is.

"The Helen I knew before- perhaps she from another world, or perhaps she was a dream- was already a butterfly formed. Confident, powerful, delightfully awash in the absurd and impossible. Perhaps you will become her. Perhaps you won't."

[paramnesiarules]

"That doesn't sound like me." Helen shakes her head slightly, wrapping her arms around herself. She doesn't doubt that this man, this Sheogorath, liked that other Helen, that he treasures the memory, but...that wasn't her. He's made a mistake.

"I've always tried to be respectable, to be grounded. Sure I liked to cut loose now and then, but who doesn't? But I always thought that if I just kept my nose to the grindstone and chatted up the right people, I'd come out on top. And it was working," she suddenly says viciously, voice sharp and pointed with bitterness. "My life wasn't perfect, but it was my life, one I'd built all on my own, and it all made sense! Everything worked the way it was supposed to, until that, that man with his corridors showed up in my life. He ruined it! He ruined everything, and he..." She grimaces, struggling with the urge to cry. "He ruined me...I'm still alive, but nothing makes sense anymore..."

[blindwatchersees]

“Helen… Helen… shh, shh, it’s alright, dear. If you need to cry, cry. You aren’t any less strong if you have to, it just means your brain-stomach is full of emotions and they need a bit of digesting. Here, why don’t we go get a bit of ice cream and take our minds off things for a little while. They offer a discount for going halfsies.”

[paramnesiarules]

"Ice cream?" Helen sniffles, wiping at her face. Ugh, she's utterly disgusting today. Good thing she doesn't have any makeup to waste. "Sure, why not?" She laughs quietly. "It's a classic for a reason, right?" She's not going through a breakup, but...she definitely feels like she's in mourning. Ironic, considering she's also the one who's technically dead.

[blindwatchersees]

“Wonderful! You know, I‘ve been dying to see if they’ve come up with a Beef Wellington flavor yet!”

[paramnesiarules]

...He's kidding, right? (Spoilers: no he's not.)

"So, uh..." Come on Helen, you're supposed to be good at idle chatter. Just think of him as a banker you're trying to make nice with so you can upsell him later. "What do you...do, Mr. Sheogorath? When you're not trapped in hellish cruise dimensions or taking strangers out for ice cream, I mean?"

[blindwatchersees]

“Funny you should ask! I just opened up my own business. Lovely place, I think you’d really enjoy the architectural flourishes. It’s a clinic and surgery on one side, and a salon for piercings and tattoos on the other. A body shop, you could call it- ha! Don’t suppose you have steady hands? I’m actually looking for apprentices!”

[paramnesiarules]

"I -- wow. That's very generous of you." Generous enough to leave her feeling a little bowled over, actually. She'd barely thought about what she'd do on this island, still stuck on the obvious fact that they had no need for a realtor (which surely meant they had no need for her, what was she doing here --) but this...

"I'm afraid I don't have an artistic or...surgical background," she says slowly, "But if you're looking to fill some sort of customer service position, I do have eight years realty experience with Wolverton Kendrick and my sales patter is pretty good, if I might say so myself." Pay no attention to the fact that she nearly had an emotional meltdown right in front of him less than ten minutes ago.

[blindwatchersees]

"Well, that's certainly a place to start. I would love a smiling face who can be sure the guests feel welcome when I'm occupied, and of course, a quick wit is required."

His grin widens a little.

"That bit of the interview can easily be done over ice cream, I think!"

[paramnesiarules]

"Sure!" Helen agrees -- but while the ice cream is okay and the interview goes well, the really exciting part is when Sheogorath takes her back to the shop and ushers her inside through the tattoo parlor door.

"Why put in a partition?" she asks. "I can understand wanting to protect client privacy, but it just seems like you've made more work for yourself, cutting the shop in half like this."

[blindwatchersees]

"Well, it's not quite one shop, and not quite two shops. The partition was the best compromise. Actually, I'm rather curious... which side of each side do you feel more drawn to?"

[paramnesiarules]

"Which side? Well..." They've been chatting long enough by now that she can tell she's supposed to take the question seriously -- so she does, pausing for a moment to really think about it. "I'm not...comfortable with the idea of being around people who are actually getting surgery done," she finally admits. "Checking them in, taking down their information, that's all well and good, but I'd rather not see the...blood and parts, you know? The tattoo parlor feels safer."

She waves at the walls. "Some of the stuff you've got pinned up is pretty grotesque, but in a...safe way? If that doesn't sound too insulting. I can look at it or I can look away, it won't hurt me. Some of it is even rather compelling."

[blindwatchersees]

"Exactly. Exactly! A grim or grotesque idea isn't always a harmful one. Often it's just a bit of fancy. A grand bit of mental foray."

[paramnesiarules]

"Y-yeah." Helen grins, a little off-balance but for once not necessarily in a negative way. "And, not to let it go unsaid, you've got some beautiful pieces in here. The nature images especially --" She points at a botanical illustration of two fantastically-colored mushrooms, like something out of Alice in Wonderland. "I look at that and I feel...safe. But also as if I'm meant to be in there, with them. Like they come from a real place that was built for me."

She has to laugh at herself. "God, listen to me go on. I must sound utterly ridiculous."

[blindwatchersees]

"They are from a real place, actually. Well, as real as anywhere can be. They grow in my home, the Shivering Isles."

He pauses, considering his words carefully. Normally he wouldn't be so guarded, but Helen is a special case, uniquely positioned on a precipice of Being.

"My Isles... they are made for people who have come to realize that the world does not make sense in the way most people think it does. It is a safe place in some ways, a terrifying place in others. A home for those who don't seem to have a home in the world where people insist on doing 'the sensible thing.'"