maskormenacelogs | [ closed ] the long dark teatime of the soul

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[ closed ] the long dark teatime of the soul

WHO: Shinjiro Aragaki & Annie Leonhart
WHERE: Around ... De Chima, why not
WHEN: Saturday, August 30th, mid-late morning
WHAT: After a morning sparring session, Annie and Shinjiro head out to relax over cold (?) beverages (that are sadly not ale) and have a little story time, in which Annie may learn, "How I learned to shoot myself in the head and love the Personas and this giant Tartarus thing before I bit the bullet in the end."
WARNINGS: Persona needs to be its own warning forever did you even see any of these games -

Annie figured she'd walked off with one of Bertholdt's sweaters this morning. It was longer in the arms than what she'd be expecting for Reiner, and less broad in the shoulders, but she swam in it as much as she'd have been looking drowned by anything belonging to her other shifter roommate.

She'd actually sacrificed being properly layered (in her mind) for the duration of her session with Shinjiro this morning, but with that ended, and Porting out away from Florida and the training facilities provided on the base meant reassuming her layers, as poor a substitute as they were. If anything, dressed in stylish capris, with her same white socks, calf high but bunched around her ankles, her sneakers, and in her yoga top underneath the giant sweater, Annie looked like she'd rolled out of bed and thrown on whatever was convenient... which wasn't too far off the mark, in the end. She was in a better mood than she'd been before dawn. Exercise had that wonderful effect, which meant she wasn't trying to glare down the odd look she got from a few of the too perfect people in town. She only stared them down, well versed in the art of looking down her nose from below the level of where the other part was standing.

Of course, as they were standing in a line in a coffee shop on the corner of one of the sleepier intersections near downtown, this time of the morning, just about everyone was inclined to glare. She was taking the high road mostly by accident, but as she turns her attention back to Shinjiro, Annie feels oddly better.

Still irritated as heck over the fact her entire wardrobe had grown legs and walked away, but she was ignoring the network at large, her phone off and everything. Screw people policing her sense of comfort mistaking it for her thinking she had a sense of fashion. She didn't care to deal with it right now.

"Ah - the smaller cup, green tea please. Over ice." Order placed, she pulled out the appropriate bills, carefully counting out the exact amount necessary to pay for the tea, then joining the rest of the waiting crowd at the far end of the counter.

"There's a window table open." One near the back corner, where half the table was hidden out of easy window sight, and both seats had the possibility to clearly watch the door. Can't blame a girl for maintaining some older, defensive habits.

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The wardrobe was definitely... different from what he'd learned to expect from Annie. And before they'd even exchanged words this morning, it had answered his question on if she'd managed to track down her own clothing. (A resounding no, based on the awkward mashup of styles. But like hell Shinji knows the first thing about fashion.) But it hadn't much impeded the instruction and sparring in the dewy morning, and he'd simply stopped noticing it, even with the haughty glances and stares they recieved once back in De Chima.

(Though that was something Shinjiro was used to ignoring. A lot of the natives there didn't make it a secret how unfortunate they felt he looked or carried himself or whatever.)

His order is simple after her, instead opting for a basic espresso drink and some bland-looking scone of some kind, anything to actually get something into his stomach after their training session. Drink and flaky pastry picked up, and he nods and moves to the indicated seat. It's not a bad one- especially for actually talking, rather than just bullshitting back and forth or something.

But of course- delving directly into personal subject matter can't be the first order of business. Lips half quirked as he sets down the mug and pulls out his own chair, and he glances over to her.

"Anyone fess up to stealing your shirts?" Unlike Annie, his own phone was on (And blandly unused, not one for receiving too many calls or texts, especially when Akihiko was likely on his morning jog-) and just ignored-- so who knows, maybe she'd gotten a confession. It was a bizarre enough situation that it certainly had his curiosity.

The tea is cold in her hands, the ice clinking against itself and swirling around in the plastic cup. She enjoys the feel of the condensation on the outside, brings it up to her forehead, pressing it against one temple as she sits.

"Not before I left this morning." She pulls out her phone, letting the blank screen reflect the ceiling of the cafe back at her. She shows on screen as she leans forward, bringing her cup down to rest on the surface of the table. "I should probably check back in."

She stares down at her phone for another beat, balancing between her exercise fueled better mood and where-ever her phone was going t take her. There's too much power in that tiny device, with the tiny screen.

She presses the button that starts the phone system booting up, sitting back and bringing her drink into her hands again.

"Aracely didn't detect anyone coming in when we were all at home. Whoever it was had to let themselves in when we were all out."

A shrug. He doesn't know Reiner or Bertholdt all that well, but-- it doesn't seem like the sort of thing either would do, from his limited interactions. But who knows how people act at home. So he simply sits back in the seat, crossing one ankle over the other knee, and resting his fingers lightly about the warm mug, letting it cool down.

(Maybe he should have followed suit, with a cool drink after their intense training... but eh. Sitting down in an air conditioned cafe was helping to be enough for now.)

"I'm sure you'll get 'em back." Because if they didn't wreck anything, didn't steal anything else, than they must have been familiar with the place, or with Annie, and just making the singular point. He gestures uselessly with his off hand, a simple roll of the wrist. "Just a matter've how long they feel lucky for."

Shinjiro lifts the mug to his lips, finally deciding it's cool enough for him to start at- as well as filling the faint silence between them with the motion. "...So what part've my world did you want me to start with?" He'd never been the best at explaining it, sure. That was what Mitsuru was for. But hey, why not pay back her blunt honesty to the network with some of his own.

Her blunt honesty also hid away specifics, but Annie was more for people asking questions to learn answers than hand feeding them everything. She isn't interested in making herself seem better than she is; it's at the heart of what she left unclarified.

Now, she sees the screen of her comm come to life, and her eyes flick up to Shinji. Curious, and cautious at some deeper level.

"That's an awfully big question." He's better off choosing his own starting point. She has so little context to make any of it sensible, she'll simply have to ask questions along the way.

Idly, waiting for him to begin, she access the screen to show replies to her earlier text.

"Yeah, I wanted to put you on the spot." It's casual and difficult to tell if it's true or not with how blandly he tosses it out. But honestly? He's always been shit at talking and explaining things. Might as well start with the only really interesting thing about his own experiences:

"It's close to this place, 'cept without all the hovercars or the stupid cockwaving between world powers." I mean sure that was likely still going on, but not at a nuclear apocalypse level. Shinjiro shifts in his seat to lean back slightly, chair tilting back onto two of its legs. "--And a huge fuckup in space-time caused by an explosion 'bout ten years before I showed up here."

His fingers tap idly about the ceramic mug, after he reaches out to take it again and pull it closer to him. "We call it the Dark Hour, but only people with the potential can experience it. Nothing works- electricity, engines, clocks- none of it. And anyone who can't see or feel it shows up like a big casket- they can't be touched or messed with in there, so they're safe. It all goes on between one second and another, so they don't feel like they missed anything."

He explains it so casually, as though it's just a weird aspect of the weather- And leaves out some of the stranger details, such as the yellow-green tint to everything that years back had made him dizzy and want to puke, or the water sharing the same colour and consistency of blood. The initial confusion and panic, the twisted-up, fucked-up tower-- That's all just extraneous right now.

"...Trouble is, that's when these creatures we call Shadows attack. They can get people outta their caskets and eat their minds."

A sip of coffee. Another shrug.

"Leaves 'em alive, but they pretty much just sit there like a damn vegetable 'til they get run over or die of exposure or something. Sometimes they can still make noises, but it don't mean anything. They're just bodies with a pulse, by then."

Shinjiro lets a brief silence follow that, lifting his head just a bit to finally make eye contact, rather than looking out the window or to the table- Still even-toned, still unwaving gaze. "Me and the team I was with would fight 'em, 'cause we're the only ones who could."

She swirls the ice in her cup at stupid cockwaving between world powers, tempted into a sharp exhalation of amusement. Yes, thre'd been degrees of that, ones she mostly worked on side-stepping. Annie isn't interested in who's better than who - or who's scarier. She has enough to be afraid of and deal with on a daily basis, the least of all being the transition and handling of a civilian existence.

Or an unmasked one.

Shadows sound horrible. Monsters that devour consciousness, taking away the mind and leaving behind the body. There are uncomfortable echoes to the Titans, in a way both more or less as horrific as this kind of absolute consumption. Titans didn't usually wake. But they could, in theory. The mind that had been sent into nightmares might wake and find a reality to hold on to, bereft of memories of the horrors they may have inflicted on the world in the meantime.

Annie doesn't drink her tea, focus on Shinjiro and the words he speaks, building an image and a story of a world she'll never see. Such things... everyone has a version of insanity they call home. His walks with Shadows.

"How many of you were there?"

A sigh. "Fighting 'em? One girl on support, seven of us fighting, along with a robot and a dog. All of us 'round my age." Except for the robot and dog, but that probably doesn't need to be pointed out. "There's some others who can experience the Dark Hour without being able to fight 'em, but most died off in that explosion years back."

Thumb and forefinger extended, in the shape of a mock pistol, he taps his own temple. "...We got a power called Persona. That was the ability I had back home. Shoot ourselves with special guns and it unleashes 'em to fight against the Shadows."

As though this is the most normal thing in the world-- But really, Shadow bullshit is one of the reasons he'd been able to deal with most of the insanity in this world, too. Dimensional bullshit, other world-- He'd ask questions and be curious for answers, but in the end? It just fucking happens, hell if he knows exactly why.

"Personas strengthen their users, and pass along any weaknesses too. Mine didn't have any've those-- but it was physically oriented. Hence the battle axes." And the comment of swords feeling too fragile or flimsy. He'd always liked a weapon with a bit more heft to it, something that would build inertia.

"I think that's most've the basics of what made my world weird."

The gesture pulls a surprised look out of Annie. Shooting ourselves with special guns... A shiver rolls through her. Annie pulls her hands away from her chilled tea, wiping her damp hands against her stomach. Bertholdt's sweater absorbs the moisture with reluctance.

She can imagine such a thing, but the mental image isn't pleasant. That hadn't killed any of them, but she can't help but see the spray of blood and gray matter that accompanies a far more final shot to the head. Suicide or murder. Neither are easier to swallow, if one may be easier to understand than the other.

"You shot yourselves in the heads to pull out powers tied to something called persona, which altered each of you in some way even as they were an aid for your cause. The stop sign's less surprising than I thought." She doesn't quite recall the sign used back in Colorado, but it's better that way. Much like she's shut the pain off into memory. One of many things better left shrouded in the haze of the past.

"I don't know if it's more surprising most of you were around the same age, or the fact you were all able to find each other and work toward the same ends. Did many of you know each other before this all started?"

He doesn't outwardly acknowledge the surprise at the concept of their evokers- hell, he'd anticipated it. He'd been wary of them at first, too, skeptical of the idea that they could fight back against the nauseating horrors of the newly discovered (to him) world by shooting himself. Instead he just nods at her summary. No need to make it more bizarre, after all.

And besides, while she and the other shifters had been blunt and to the point about their own capabilities and deeds, they hadn't gotten terribly personal about it. That sort of practical, business-like demeanor was something he could respect and return.

"...Sort of. Me and Akihiko were the first two recruited by Mitsuru. Her family's powerful as hell, and the ones that'd been researching it." Another casual roll of the shoulder, and he lifts his coffee up again to down some. No sense in letting it get cold.

"Her Persona's got some supportive abilities, so she can sense other Users and Enemies from a distance. They found out that me and Aki had the potential and contacted us."

A shake of the head.

"And we didn't find anyone else for two years. After that, activity started picking up, and more people awakened to their powers. I dunno why, though." Annd... he could leave it at that, but... okay maybe the stop sign takes some explaining.

"Our leader found a bus stop sign back home. It worked in a pinch-- so that's just what I grabbed for."

What a staggered sort of introduction and building of a relatively small group, all things considered. Annie doesn't think it overlong - not when she'd been waiting years on her own, building toward what she'd been sent out to do - but it's something to consider. Her hands remain in her lap, the phone on the table finally pulling up the most recent messages sent to her post about the clothes thieving.

Practical was part of Annie's upbringing; businesslike meant never having to commit herself emotionally to the things that would destroy her if she let them. Annie doesn't love the person she's been. She's not sure if she loves the person she's trying to be, either, but she at least faces who that person is and tells herself she can't stop trying. The voice that used to haunt her, no breaks, Annie, can find something else to push her forward to achieve.

Sounding less and less like her father, and more and more like herself.

"What did her family do prior to the occurrence?" Powerful as hell for what purpose? Pouring that money into research after the fact, she can see people doing that, but with an agenda, something to gain. Not just the proper things, either... though she's of a suspicious mindset. People will protect their own gains. Companies, organizations, and power structures of all sorts follow those kinds of rules.

"I'd prefer to avoid another sign incident, if it's all the same to you. I'm a frail girl, really... no one who can stand up to that much metal." There's something of a joke implied there, for all the double edge of honest: Annie doesn't have superior graces in anything but regeneration, and regeneration doesn't save on the pain or fact she can't take a significant amount of damage without having to heal back through it. Things that would kill many won't kill her, but she's neither invulnerable nor untouchable.

"Anything and everything. I dunno the whole history of it, but they split off from another business group before making their own-- Mostly do electronics as far as most people know." Another shrug. "Research and Dev on the side. Mitsuru's grandfather was kind of a nut, always researching and experimenting with the few Shadows they could get in our world, from what I hear."

Sure, he knew a lot of the past- but that didn't change what they had to do to fix it, and so he'd never been terribly concerned with the group's history and blame for the situation they were in now. (And then that had nothing to do with where he was now.)

But man, that comment- Shinjiro snorts in amusement.

"Bullshit you're frail." Maybe a bit blunter than intended. But at least in public he won't comment on her decidedly formulaic fighting, or the fact that she'd regrown her entire arm in what might have been only a few hours.

But really-- from what he knows? Both physically and mentally, she comes off as collected and sure. of course evryone had their own worries and concerns and hurts and whatever the hell else-- but no one could say that Annie wasn't moving, even if it turns out that it's only physical.

"But sure, if you say." he waves a hand, as though to dismiss his own previous protest. "No swinging around heavy bits of metal on training days. I can do that."

His exclamation earns him quirked eyebrows from Annie in turn - and she reaches out, picking up her iced tea once more. His response is appropriate, all things considered, and Annie knows she's not frail in any sense that really matters to people around here. She's not frail, not really.

But if it amuses him for her to have said, it amuses her, in turn, to have him call bullshit. She lets that hint of amusement show on her face, lips pulling into the ghost of a lopsided smile before her mouth opens, taking the straw between her teeth.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Yes she does. Though in that jest, she does finally look down, reaching out to flick a finger through the responses. One catches her eye... she squints at it, but lets it go for now.

"Must make some things here seem almost sensible in comparison."

He doesn't even bother to hide the light rolling of eyes in response to her claim of ignorance. But there's no need to push it farther or wear the mirth of the comments out, so Shinjiro ends up just shrugging and dropping it.

"If you say so. Ain't like my opinion there matters."

Though her reaction to the phone garners his curiosity-- because really, clothing thief. Of all the strange events here, this was one of the most inane, and that just makes him want to know about it even more.

"Any word on the missing clothes?"

"Not quite. A few new replies..." She sets her tea down again, carefully tapping on one and pecking out a careful text reply in turn. "One that's more suspicious than the others. Though why would..."

Annie finished her rather rude interruption, hitting enter and letting the reply to Minako sail off into cyberspace. She looks back up, grabbing her tea and swirling the ice around inside. Enough has melted to afford the room for the motion. "What I don't like is having my entire wardrobe replaced. Just missing, that's one thing. People prank like that all the time... or even switch clothing between two people."

Things sized to her all dumped off while the things she picked out for herself are gone doesn't feel like help. Annie looks faintly troubled by the idea, that someone's dictating to her what she should be wearing, without a real purpose. No uniform, no lack of standard achieved, just someone saying... what? Nothing helpful. Not really.

A nod. That really was the weirdest part, wasn't it? He'd almost understand if it was something juvenile or testosterone-fueled, like leaving her with nothing but her underwear, or with some sort of pseudo-fetish gear, or even a big stupid mascot outfit. That would at least make it a prank.

This... was almost more like some misguided attempt to help where no help was really needed. He'd never noticed anything really off about Annie's clothing- not compared to a lot of the imPorts running around, at least. And with what Annie had described it was just... normal girl junk. Different girl, sure, someone who apparently liked short shorts and whatever else, as opposed to constantly-hoodies. But--

He shakes his head. "...Almost like it's not a prank, right? Someone really thinks they're helping you with this bullshit." that's the only thing that makes sense, after all. More than anything, he's just glad that it doesn't affect him.

...hell, at least when Arisato had them wear weird shit, there was some purpose for it. (Though Shinjiro had always suspected that maybe the ability-boosting effects of that bikini-armor weren't quite worth it for the girls-- but whatever.) But that was only in combat, and with gains to counteract the sheer feeling of ridiculousness. After a moment, though, his lips twist in amusement.

"'Least they didn't leave you nothing but dresses."

She double taps her communicator screen with her middle finger, quirking up her eyebrows.

"Dresses aren't bad," she says in the end. "I personally don't like the feeling of restriction when I move. Same with skirts... I prefer pants for reasons like those." Those reasons stretched further, to familiarity, patterns, expectations. The simplest one at the heart being years of drills backing the necessity of movement, full range, and not the precious lost seconds in hiking up a skirt or dress just to move as freely as she needs.

"I guess. It's an invasive way of helping." Kanaya was doing a similar sort of service, in a much less totalarian manner. The problem behind these actions is Annie thinks she's starting to guess who did them... and that makes her uncomfortable.

Because it's becoming likely that it is someone who felt they were helping, and it's someone who doesn't really get why she isn't helping at all.

"Shinjiro? Where do baby carrots come from?"

The peeled ones in a bag. Thinking on Minako brought up the old question, but as far as non-sequiturs went, it was right out of the blue.

A nod, letting her comment on the clothing choices and distaste for the 'assistance'. All along the line of the previous conversation-

But baby carrots? What?

"...Depends on what kind you're talking about." He shrugs uncertainly, eyes narrowing in slight confusion, as though trying to piece together where the question came from. Not that he minds answering it, it's just... what.

"You got the small ones with the stalks and all- they're just picked early, or bred to be like that. Supposed to be sweeter. Most've the ones I've seen here in bags are just ones that've been cut and shaped like it instead. I think it's gotta do with malformed carrots not selling so well?"

See, at least he knows the origins (or at least differences) of his vegetables.

"The hell brings that up?"

"Minako." She frowns down at her phone, though that expression slowly disappears, replaced by a brief moment of disbelief, and then a very distant sort of neutrality.

"I asked her when she first introduced me to them. She said they grew on trees." Which had never made sense, given carrots were a root, but Annie hadn't felt like contesting it, and it'd been sensible enough for a day of video games and the proximity of limitless junkfood consumed in large quantities.

(Minako had quite the stomach.)

"She did it." Took the entirety of Annie's wardrobe and ran off with it, leaving all the rest in place. And she thinks it's a good thing. Kanaya's latched on to her too, Annie sees that, but right then she has to sit back, wrap her hands around her cold tea, and let the condensation on the outside of the plastic dampen the palms of her hand.

She is irritated, and she's trying very, very hard not to be.

....It still doesn't really explain the curiosity behind baby carrots, but he can disregard that. Bringing up Minako as their perpatrator... it does fit, from what he knows about her. Determined, cheery, helpful-- and throw those all together, and it's very possible that she could want to 'help' Annie in a weird way like this. Something ultimately harmless, but altogether pretty damn pushy and-- well. Sketchy, really.

Also, where the hell did she put all of Annie's clothes? How much time did she put into planning this?

Shinjiro will have to remember what a sheer force Minako can be.

He pulls the mug to his lips, frowns that the last bit of it has gone cold, and sets it down again. "...Shouldn't be too hard to get it back, then. Sucks that she's probably proud as hell of herself." This is probably like how she had talked him into going to the mall, and ended up helping him get a new coat for the winter... but at least that had been consensual.

Annie tapped out a reply as he spoke, fingers forcibly stilled on the table, palm flat, waiting for a response. "You'd think."

Clothing had to be stored somewhere. She can't imagine Minako having thrown it all away where it can't be found again. Annie knows how to run the laundry machine now, so she can even save time on cleaning them, as long as there were clothes - her clothes - to be cleaned!

How in the hell had she ended up in this situation? Friends...

"What does she mean my hoodies are gone, never to return." The conversation has briefly come around to this sort of focused, tightly controlled outrage. Annie is not pleased.

While it's phrased as a question, her tone indicates otherwise- but even so, Shinjiro just shrugs again, sitting back and letting his arms fold over his midsection, glancing to the side to watch new batches of customers wander in and gape at the menu as he responds.

"...Dunno. Either she's exaggerating to make a game out've it, or she got rid've them, I'd imagine." Though throwing out someones entire wardrobe would be pretty extreme. Clothes cost money, and with as much as Annie kept busy with, it's not like she likely had the spare time to go shopping for it all again at a whim.

Hell, even though he wasn't particularly attached to most of his own clothing here- it's still a pain in the ass to go through that. And really damn personal. "If she wanted, she coulda given you the shit as a gift, not just made off with your stuff." He frowns, nose wrinkling, brows creasing, and considers it a bit more.

"So, you gonna go after her?"

She presses her lips together into a thin frown. Would she? Annie knows the answer already, pressing her palms flat against the table.

"No." It isn't her style. Besides, what she knows about Minako points to how that won't work, even if Minako were scared of someone like Annie. (There are reasons enough. Annie's confessed history is a warning in and of itself.) Yet Annie doesn't thrive on confrontation. She teaches Shinjiro her father's style of hand to hand combat, but it's about the only place she employs it. Annie is more a fighter in theory, well trained, and excellent with a kill shot - but not much of a fighter in practice.

There's just not the passion there to provoke her into acting with violence. She needs a catalyst, and a better one than the sick sort of uncomfortable anger she's feeling now.

"It's not going to make an impact. Minako doesn't think she's wrong."

He frowns, not having caught onto the 'violent' connotation there. If it were him, hell yeah he'd confront her. Let her know that it's not okay, get his damn clothes back. But if Annie's willing to drop it, to let it go...

Shinjiro shakes his head.

"...if you say so. Just gonna replace all your stuff, then?" His lips press together a bit, looking down at her outfit. It's certainly not bad. Doesn't even particularly stand out, really. It's just radically different from what he's used to seeing her in, and he can't imagine anyone being that comfortable in someone else's style against their will.

"I dunno if it gets cold in Nonah, but at least she waited 'til the end of summer, I guess..." Shinji'd have to buy winter wear, after all, and he assumed a lot of the newer imports would have to do the same.

Annie's confrontations tended to be cold and level, as far as volume. Minako would be facing that soon enough, not that either party was particularly aware of that at the moment.

"Whatever I need to, yes." She'll be back on minimals, because she has to save up what she can, and living frugal and thrifty is such a habit that it mostly registers as the kind of uncomfortable realization that she might be going lean in other ways. At least she's not worried about insurance - there's some stipend that pays for it related back to being Registered.

... Not that she even understood what the hell all of that was about.

Annie ignores what she's wearing, cobbled together from her roommates and wearing those capris she deemed acceptable enough. It's a little too loose and casual, in a different way than her normal.

Besides, winter... she sighs. "People don't care what's under layers. It simplifies things." Was more often, but wear more often too. No one to really judge her for having very little variety in her wardrobe.

Though people kept offering to buy things for her - mostly older men acting like what she supposes uncles might act like. As if she knew. It certainly wasn't fatherly concern.

(As if she'd know.)

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[ closed ] the long dark teatime of the soul

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