maskormenacelogs | metal tube of emotions

Entry tags:

metal tube of emotions

WHO: Catra & Cecelia
WHERE: if De Chima didn't have a subway before...it does now.
WHEN: Januar
WHAT: stuck underground for an indeterminate amt of time
WARNINGS: teens

The crummy weather in De Chima has forced Cecelia underground after her shift at the magic shop, because the humidity is bad enough for her hair without precipitation. Gods, it's like this city's sole mission is to make her as poofy and uncomfortable as it can before she can port back down to Heropa...Heropa, where the humidity is even worse and storms are almost daily.

There's really no relief, is there? Ugh.

In any case, the masses already preceding her down into this underground maze of trains can't be wrong about it, can they? Even if it is dank and smelly and noisy thanks to the acoustics...there's at least some reprieve from it inside one of the train cars, for her stop, the Porter, doesn't get as much traffic as other places at this time. Most folks are heading out to the suburbs, whereas her direction sends her further downtown. So it's just her and the tired off-work staff looking for a nightcap...

Oh, and Catra. She didn't notice at first, but in a triple-take, Cecelia spotted the familiar, shaggy mane crowned with ears. It also helped that someone was murmuring about it and the prospects of taking a secret snapshot.

Hoo, boy...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

For her part, Catra is on her way to Dawn of the Delts in Maurtia Falls. These days, she likes to lose herself in a training session whenever things get too much for her -- the long days and the sheer emptiness of her life now. Otherwise, there is a lot of sitting idly with herself, and she is bad at that.

She, too, decided to take the subway to escape the weather, and because she was a bit curious about it. Now she's thinking it was the wrong choice: it's dark, dank and smells like a garbage dump with added piss. And above all, there are her admirers again, murmuring among themselves. She's moderately successful in warding them off with some of her angriest glares.

It's a bit of a surprise when, while gloomily sweeping her gaze around the small interior of the car, she spots a familiar face beneath and unmistakeable mess of red hair. That girl from the electronics store, who manipulated and humiliated her! Catra's been avoiding her like the plague. Which she entirely intends to keep doing for as long as she can get away with it, so she averts her gaze.

There seems to be a silent agreement between them, then: a standing do not interact as glances crossed and just as quickly passed. That's a relief, even if it's not a comfortable relief. To be honest, Cecelia thought little of her after the encounter, getting tied up in her own nonsense and daily happenings. Yet, as an anxious young mind is often apt to, she now can't help but wonder if that stranger thinks the worst of her -- as if that exchange of glances stirred up all kinds of negativity.

Pah. As if Cecelia is anyone worth ruminating over!

And yet, her stomach does a little, nervous flip all the same. She hates the prospect of being hated just at the core, after all.

Cecelia forces her eyes back down to the book she's rented from the library, but finds it less engrossing than before. It's hard, now that her ears are pricking for gossip and chatter, and this commuter-tube's acoustics practically shoving it into her head! Dreadful. She'll have to learn about headphones in a hurry.

With each stop, fewer and fewer fill the cars, until a scant few remain -- including the tearful bully from the store. Cecelia begins to fear they're going to be going to the same place, walking in the same direction. Gods. The worst, if she really has to--

CRUNCH.

Cecelia startles, snapping out of her thoughts as the car jostles to an immediate halt. Her ears ring a little with the screech of the brakes, then...none of it.

"What...?"

Unfortunately for Cecelia, Catra does, at the moment, bear quite the grudge against her. It's easier than hating herself, though she does that all the same. What a disgrace, to be so caught off guard! By a mere movie. Truly, Catra hadn't thought she could be so affected by movies anymore. Sure, as a child, she'd always been the first to cry at the emotional scenes, but that was long ago, and she was grown now. Surely, she should have left that level of sentimentality behind her now!

As she broods, she's just leaning back against her seat, staring into nothing. She vaguely registers the comings and goings -- well, mostly goings. But the constant, steady shaking of the subway car is lulling her into some kind of half-awake state.

That is, until the car comes to a halt rather abruptly and violently, causing Catra to be thrown off her seat and nearly off the row of seating altogether. With a yelp, she's able to grasp the edge of a seat and keep from being completely knocked over. Her ear pitches when she picks up a voice asking the very thing she's wondering too -- ah.

The redhead.

Catra turns toward her, but then quickly switches to scanning her surroundings for anything unusual. Outside, the tunnel is dark; they're far from the next station.

"Why did we stop?"

"I, I don't know, I've never--"

Before she can finish, there's sharp feedback off the intercom that causes her to recoil and clamp her hands over her ears. Even muffled, the noise is obnoxious and piercing...and unintelligible, as all subway intercoms seem to be in life and fiction. Static-static-gentlemen, static-static-delay, static-static-surge, static-mumble-static-thank-you-click.

Cecelia doesn't breathe a solid beat after, still braced for more noise, but when the only other sound is the snort-snore of an old man at the other end of the car, she straightens back up, her face still etched with pain and worry.

After one more hesitation, she withdraws her hands and shoots Catra a nervous glance.

"Did you...get any of that?"

Catra can't help but mimic the action -- with her sensitive ears, she is in agony for a long moment. While her heart beats way too loudly to hear anything else, she desperately wishes to be back in the Fright Zone, where things made sense and her ears didn't get attacked like this. At least, they generally had much better sounds quality there.

When she becomes aware again, she just about catches the fact that the redhead is speaking, and that she's speaking to her, but still she just stares for a while until she fully grasps what's been asked. Then she shakes her head.

"Not really. Did you?"

"Just an unpleasant ringing in my ears, unfortunately..."

With that, Cecelia stands up, lingering at her seat for a moment before walking over to one of the maps plastered on the side of the car. She scans it over carefully, seeking some explanation for this. Maybe this is normal? Vehicles up top stop at intersections for each other -- are they at a crossing, perhaps? Not that there was any indication of the sort prior to this, but what does she know about human transportation logic anyway?

"This says nothing of stoppages?" She frowns. "Nor mention of change of conditions at all...just. Just a number to call for questions or concerns."

Well, she has both of those in surplus...

Curious to see what's written over there, Catra bounds along the row of seats on all fours, jumping over a sleeping man with ease. She comes to kneel next to Cecelia and pushes herself up to see better.

Having confirmed the information for herself, she glances at Cecelia. "So... I guess we should call that." She's barely said it and is already whipping out her communicator. Scowl on her face, she furiously taps the number onto the touchscreen and waits.

There is a crackling, thankfully quiet, then the line beeps rapidly for a few beats and goes dead. Catra blinks, not understanding at first, but when she does... she throws her device onto the floor, noises of rage bubbling up from her. "This is useless!"

"Gah!" The sudden outburst startles her, and she jumps back, hugging her arms. After fear, irritation, stifled by a conscious effort to remain civil.

"T-take it easy! Please, we--we haven't used up all of our resources yet. Right? After all, there's..."

She looks over to the sleeping man and grimaces. If he smells half as bad as he looks, then he's easily the source of most of the stink in this car.

"There's...him! Why don't you go ask him if he knows if this is common?"

As soon as Catra looks at the guy, she knows that yes, he is absolutely the source of a pungent smell that permeates the air. However, she is agitated -- and, less obviously, scared -- enough to stomp over there once she has retrieved her device, which has survived its harsh landing. She shakes the sleeping man and yells at him several times.

"Hello? Wake up! Come on, wake up!" To no avail; he is fast asleep. Catra stops for a moment, unsure. "Is he... ?" She leans in, putting her ear close to the guy's face, and... yes, he is breathing. Finally, she lets him go, gives him and herself some space and slumps back into the seats, heaving a deep sigh.

"Okay, tried that. What now?" One hand goes to her scowling forehead, which she starts to slightly massage as she's racking her brain.

She's relieved, truly, that Catra's at least willing to go over there without argument, because Cecelia was not ready to deal with that much halitosis up close, even in a crisis. Unfortunately, it proves to be a fruitful endeavor (leaving her all the more grateful it was Catra and not she). Cecelia sighs, turning and pacing to the far end of the car as she thinks.

Does she have a precedent for this? Wandering tunnels...yes, she's done that. But not trapped within a capsule at the same time. So...

She jiggles the handle of the door, clicking her tongue when it gives nothing. Then, she peers through the window, trying to discern shapes in the car behind them. Anyone...?

"There's people in the car beyond us," she reports, shading her eyes from window-glare to try and discern more. Even her (half) elf eyes can't parse through this level of grime easily. "They're pacing as much as we are, it seems?"

Catra once again follows Cecelia, though this time, she jumps to a stand and walks. She watches the people in the other car pacing for a moment. "They don't seem too alarmed, you know."

Still, though, Catra would like to know what is going on. And because she didn't really see Cecelia do it, she pulls on the door handle as well -- to no avail, of course. She ponders it for a moment. "I could probably open this." With a lot of violence, sure. But there was that one time she took the huge robot bugs apart, so it should be possible. "I'll break it, though."

She grimaces.

"Let's...save that for later," she suggests. "I mean--it won't do to get caught up in trouble if this is actually common. I advise we....we wait for a few minutes, to see if we don't start up as if nothing had happened. After that, we can see to the door."

She tilts her head at Catra, trying to hold back apprehension.

"Does that seem fair?"

"Don't tell me what to do!" Catra responds, though it's more a defensive reflex than anything. Does that seem fair is an odd thing to ask her, something she's rarely asked or been asked in her life. As a soldier, she knows how to cooperate, but there are always hierarchies involved -- either she's following orders or she's giving them. If Catra weren't still so in defensive mode, she might have appreciated it.

Once she got her yelling done, though, Catra does see that Cecelia's proposition makes sense. Breaking the car would probably be a bad idea. So she heaves another sigh. "Fine, fine. So... what do we do while we wait? I hate waiting."

At the snap, Cecelia flinches, face heating up. Gods, and she hates that reaction in her, being so visibly intimidated. Ugh. This is the worst; maybe just letting this creature break things, get away, and let her deal with getting in trouble is enough? But with her luck...

Her own shoulders go down when Catra relents, but Cecelia still feels tense, like she's going to have to walk on eggshells now. UGH.

"Well..." She flickers a glance down to the device Catra had spiked in her outrage. "Did you, by chance, bring any light reading with you?"

Catra just shoots Cecelia a mildly annoyed glare at that. "No." She feels a twinge of sympathy at Cecelia's discomfort, but at the same time, she is a little pleased. After all, as long as she's being intimidating, she's not the one being intimidated. At home, she's just gotten a little taste of power, and she wants to hold onto that as much as she can.

Of course, her way of commanding does not solely consist of employing fear. Not that she'd be successful, anyway, as both Scorpia and Entrapta seem pretty unimpressed by her outbursts and very determined to befriend her. Now, in her deepest heart of hearts, Catra likes that, but on a surface level, she absolutely resents it. She doesn't want anyone to get too close to her. She is not ready for that and tells herself she doesn't need it, either.

Still, her heart is not entirely made of stone, so she calms her demeanor a little. She won't apologize, but she continues speaking in a quieter voice. "So you like to read, huh?"

"More than anything," she replies, looking now toward the book she'd left on her seat. After a beat of thought, she goes over, picking it up, giving the cover a considering glance before deciding, yes, this is the right and good thing to do.

"Here."

She holds it out. Sense and Sensibility, it reads. The cover has a house amid a sunny field of wildflowers.

"Why don't you have a look, see if you like it? And either way, it'll make some time pass quicker."

Wow, someone's really enthusiastic about reading. Catra does notice that Cecelia seems to treat the book as something precious, almost as if it's alive, kind of like Entrapta with her robots.

She's still not used to people wanting to connect and share things with her, so she just awkwardly eyes the book cover presented to her and then gently pushes it away. "No, thanks. You read it, since you like it so much."

So much for the olive branch, huh? Cecelia frowns, looking back down at the cover. After a beat, her ear twitches, and she looks up with an idea.

"What if I read it aloud? Would that be acceptable? That way, both of us have a distraction."

These friendly types never give up, do they? By now, Catra knows from experience that there's no stopping someone who's really determined to talk your ear off, so she just groans and dramatically drapes her arm over her face.

"Whatever. Do what you want."

"It's not torture, you know!" Cecelia makes a face. Gods, could she be more dramatic?

Ignorant of the pot truly calling the kettle black, she plops down into the seat opposite Catra, turning the book over.

"Here, I'll read the synopsis for you first, and you can decide if it's of any interest!" That's even more reasonable to her; she's pleased to have come up with it. She clears her throat.

"When Elinor Dashwood's father dies, her family's finances are crippled. After the Dashwoods move to a cottage in Devonshire, Elinor's sister, Marianne, is torn between the handsome John Willoughby and the older Colonel Brandon. Meanwhile, Elinor's romantic hopes with Edward Ferrars are hindered due to his prior engagement. Both Elinor and Marianne strive for love while the circumstances in their lives constantly change."

She nods approvingly (to herself?? to the book?? Cecelia, what).

"It's quite the little drama so far!"

It's not torture is what Cecelia says, but honestly, for Catra, it might as well be. Being stuck in an underground tunnel with a chatty person who insists on reading to her like she's some type of baby sounds like a better torture method than the Horde's finest right now.

But seeing as she doesn't have much choice, she listens as Cecelia reads the book's synopsis to her. Alas, it doesn't do much to impress her. Some kind of love drama? Really? She looks over at Cecelia just to say, "That sounds boring."

"What, really?"

She looks up in surprise, then frowns, mirroring the look. Is that the truth, or is this girl being difficult just for the sake of it? She'd hardly know well enough, given such limited exposure versus a huge heaping helping of assumptions.

"What part seems dull? Or rather--what would be more interesting about it?"

Catra thinks for a second, then decides to answer the first question first. "I just don't see why I should care about some made-up people's relationship drama. I hate that stuff in real life, so I'm not about to read a book about it. As for the other part... I don't know, battle scenes maybe?"

She says this doubtfully, because she honestly never thought about it. Battle excites her in real life, though, so it might at least be more interesting to read about than the lovey-dovey stuff.

"Really, I just don't care about books at all."

Cecelia opens and closes her mouth, fighting back the urge to immediately interject in defense of her precious fiction. Instead, she swallows it back and listens. Were this a situation she could easily walk away from, perhaps she'd be bolder in her responses. But as it stands, it won't do to begin a shouting match in a cramped, metal capsule with limited escape.

The issue is the made-up part? Lack of battles? Well, Cecelia could argue that there's battles fought in the daily dynamic: social battles. They can be just as harrowing and life-changing, can't they? She certainly thinks so.

Also? They're less prone to staining your clothes with kobold blood. Just saying.

"It sounds like you've just not touched the right genre," she says at last, nodding. "Why, if it's reality and combat that you're more keen on, there's heaps of books of the sort! War veterans' biographies, historical accounts of old civilizations and conflicts...The library here in De Chima has a vast collection, from what I've seen."

That list of possible books to read sounds overwhelming in and of itself, so Catra quickly holds her hands up defensively. "On second thought, no, I don't want to read those either."

Then she sighs in annoyance. "Why is it so important to you that I have to like reading, anyway? You can like what you want, but why do I have to? You don't even know me!"

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject