[OPEN] She took the train through the city at dawn

[fridgetothefire]

Who: Anya Lehnsherr and YOU
When: Anytime from this week!
Where: All over! Fred's hotel, the mall, the Port library, the towers, or just exploring the different sectors of the city.
Summary: Anya is meeting people and getting to know her new home.
Warnings: None so far.



Old habits die hard. She still tries to make herself inconspicuous, still hunches herself into small and unremarkable shadows, still slips along the edges of crowds. She's quiet and subtle and she doesn't draw attention to herself. But the longer she stays in the city, the more open she becomes. However briefly, she has her own job and her own apartment, space for her and her alone. The rare times she's spoken to people on the network - they listened. She feels almost like she's floating when she walks; she catches herself beaming at strangers as she wanders through the Port's streets.

She pours over books in the library, or at her desk at work in Fred's hotel when the phones are quiet. She spends the occasional night in the mall, just wondering at all the things she could buy with money of her very own, even though she spends only very sparingly. And in the evenings after work, sometimes she puts on soft music, and dances and dances and dances around the small, private haven of her crummy, temporary apartment until she falls on her bed in exhaustion, and sleeps without dreams.

Comments

LIBRARY - Saturday Afternoon

[truename]

It is Saturday afternoon and Ritsuka has a rare day off. Rather than going on a nice date with Riku, or an impromptu game tournament with Joe, he's in the library, working on a research paper. He's maintained an academic scholarship for nearly two years, after all, and it's because he's willing to give up his Saturdays.

The cat-eared boy is sitting at the end of a long table with a small stack of books, taking notes with a tablet computer. He's wearing a light blue hoodie to cover his ears.

But he thinks he hears someone moving nearby, and pulls the hood down so he can get a better listen, somewhat startled by the movement. His velvety-black ears twitch, seeking out the noise, before he shrugs and returns back to his work.

It's not that unusual for there to be other people in the library, after all.

LIBRARY - Saturday Afternoon

[fridgetothefire]

She knows the look of someone keeping to himself, the little movements that serve as the listening equivalent of glancing over one's shoulder. It doesn't mean he's afraid, not necessarily anything like that, but it is...cautious. A cautious habit, if nothing else, and that suggests he's unlikely to be a threat. He might be dangerous, of course - Anya herself is dangerous, powerless though she is - but he wouldn't want to invite the fuss that attacking her could invoke. And the stack of books is enticing.

She sits down near him, a few books of her own tucked up awkwardly under her arm, both hands cupped around a large cellophane-wrapped muffin as she sits.

"Hi," she says, soft enough not to disturb the atmosphere of low murmurs, but bright enough to be warm and friendly. "Mind if I ask what you're studying?"

[truename]

There is a moment where the incredulous look Ritsuka gives the girl indicates he very might well reply with That's none of your business, go away. But he decides against that. She hasn't done anything too terribly nosy, at least not yet, and he's reminded of Yuiko back home, who only ever wanted to know more about him and make friends. He had been harsh to her most of the time and now it's been years since he's seen her for more than a day or two. At least this girl didn't ask who his favorite Morning Musume member is.

"Bullying," he says. "But most of these sources are old, from the outside world." Ritsuka taps his stylus against the edge of his tablet in annoyance.

[fridgetothefire]

"Oh," she answers, more subdued. "Is there, I mean." She bites her lip, caught between concern and enough understanding not to want to pry into someone else's pain. "Is someone, is it practical research?" Is someone hurting you, she doesn't say, not straight out like that.

[truename]

Ritsuka's gaze goes a little bit wary at her concern. That's the sort of thing he really wish someone had asked him, before this place, and he's a little surprised to hear it now. He's fierce when he finally replies: "This city is full of stupid bullies. There are serial killers who go after newcomers, organizations dedicated to keep newcomer children out of school, prejudice in the workplace, and even little kids in school will single out other newcomers. In a city full of many different kinds of people, they still find an excuse to treat some people badly. I want to stop it."

He huffs a little bit of a sigh, his violet eyes keen in their study of the girl. "Can't just hit 'em back or yell, it doesn't get you anywhere. So I figure... well, I had to do a paper on problems relevant to teenagers, why not." His lips curl upward in a slight smile. "I'm sure my classmates are just gonna love it."

[fridgetothefire]

She smiles, and it's a sad, uneven expression, half-consciously rubbing one of her arms through her sweater.

"Yeah. That's how people act when they get powers, mostly," she says. "Or just in groups. I didn't really expect it to be different, here, but. I've already seen things, people just reaching out, or offering to help, making a stand. That's important, I think."

She looks down at her hands, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to...make speeches at you, or anything. I think it's brave to take such a messy topic on, even if it starts with just a paper."

[truename]

Ritsuka nods, his jaw set, serious. "People will bully when they sense someone's weak, but they'll also do it when they're scared of that person. In Japan, an entire classroom will pick one or two kids to just turn on. It's disgusting. Violence, whether it's action or words, is totally wrong." Her subtle movements don't miss his notice. The touch of an old injury, maybe? Don't his own bones ache that way sometimes? That's an uncomfortable thought. Better to keep this straightforward. He hates the way words take on a life of their own and always seem to mean so much more than what was said. It's a mystery of the spellcasting and adult world that he doesn't want to discover. Why don't people ever just say what's on their mind?

"I'm Ritsuka, by the way. Ritsuka Aoyagi." He nods, sort of a half-bow, no offer of a hand or any other information for now.

[fridgetothefire]

"Pleased to meet you," she replies, and despite the formulaicism, the intent seems genuine. "I'm Maddy Strauss." She does her best to mimic his gesture rather than offering her hand, inclining her head and shoulders smoothly.

[truename]

"Maddy," Ritsuka repeats. He's heard that name before. "We chatted on the NVs before, didn't we? You're new." And a newcomer, but that goes without saying, since they're on the network together. It's nice to put a name to a face - even with all the video games and NV chatting he does, he still prefers a face-to-face interaction any day.

the hotel

[whycantistay]

Fred's busy fixing things, making lists for her to order new supplies, and keeping herself busy in general. It's the only way she's keeping herself together, otherwise she's sure she's going to fall a part. And she can't. Not now.

It's nearing six o'clock when she appears at the desk. "I know this is last minute, but can you just go through these bank statements before you leave? I'll buy you dinner and do half with you." Fred just wanted to make sure things were in order, that no one could try and take the hotel off of them.

Re: the hotel

[fridgetothefire]

She slips a scrap of paper into her book - not a library book like the rest stacked under the desk but a small, worn old hardback with no dust cover.

"Sure," she agrees, switching the phones over to the night message. "That sounds great." She tries not to be too chipper - it clear that Fred is struggling, but Anya doesn't know her well enough to know how to help yet. She figures she can't go wrong just being helpful.

"Where do you want to grab dinner? I'm pretty easy."

[whycantistay]

She was a lifesaver. Fred knew it was asking her to stay a bit later, but she was going to try getting a lawyer about all of this. Trying to get Angel off the bounty list, but making sure the hotel was still safe.

"Thank you." Fred gave a small smile. "Anywhere you want. My treat."

[fridgetothefire]

She shrugs one shoulder, smiling shyly.

"I don't really know any good places here yet," she admits. "I'm pretty new. Why don't you show me your favorite?"

[whycantistay]

"Do you like wings? I used to take my friend Spike there when he wasn't having a good-- night." Fred replied, turning to grab some keys and a loose jacket.

[fridgetothefire]

"Sure," she agrees, even though she doesn't think she's ever had just wings. Food in the base tended to be ration-basics or traditional Romani stuff, back when mom still cooked sometimes. She tucks most of the books into her desk and tucks the one she was reading into her tattered jacket.

"Night shift guy?" she asks, even though knowing this city it's probably more complicated. But she says it casually, and Fred can talk or not, whatever she wants.

[whycantistay]

Fred brings the small pile of books with her before throwing on a lightweight sweater. Moving out, she shook her head at Anna. "No. He was a vampire. Though sometimes I would take him out after work." She gave a small smile.

She really missed Spike.

[fridgetothefire]

She smiles back, encouraged by even the small expression. Despite being new to the city, she isn't phased. and doesn't miss a beat.

"It sounds like he was a good friend."

Saturday - late afternoon, early evening

[scarlet_kitsch]

Wanda strolled slowly past the clothing shops of the underground mall. With no money, there wasn’t any point in going inside. Even so, from time to time, she’d break down and wander through an actual store anyway, stopping now and again to lovingly stroke a garment that caught her eye.

But she rarely stayed in any store for long.

The sales ladies here seemed to have a preternatural sense of who did and who most certainly did not have the funds to pay. There was something incredibly annoying about the way they would look down their noses while watching her like a hawk for possible shoplifting. And it was impossible to avoid their gaze. They had a way of forcing eye contact and then subtly chilling the air, encouraging Wanda to leave.

At least, that’s how it felt. Perhaps it was all in her mind. Being without a cent to her name for the first time in years mentally threw Wanda all the way back to being a penniless and so-called “worthless” travelling Roma, the least desirable member of Transian society. Wanda had worked hard to get away from that mindset, and it was beyond frustrating how quickly she could fall back into it.

Despite these feelings, Wanda was still tempted into lingering inside one particularly chichi shop by a gorgeous skirt of dark red velvet. Even knowing she would not be able to purchase the skirt today, Wanda couldn’t help picking it off the rack and running the material through her fingers. Feeling a little guilty, knowing she had no intention of buying at the moment, she looked around for the fitting rooms. Logically, Wanda knew that all the garments were free to try on. And if this skirt fit, she did plan to come back and buy it ... eventually. But still, she was certain at least one sales lady was already sniffing in her direction.

Well, whatever. Wanda was not in the wrong for trying something on.

So, she took the skirt and headed for a fitting room. Unsurprisingly, the rooms were the kind with mirrors on the doors that forced potential customers to come out into the store so that they (and everyone else, especially the judgmental sales ladies) could see how an item looked on them.

Wanda didn’t try the skirt on right away. Instead, she held it up in front of her at approximately the level it would fall when worn. Moving her head from side to side, she eyed the skirt critically, judging it from all angles. She could easily let down the hem a bit. Perhaps add some gold embroidery and trimming...

Wanda’s thoughts were interrupted when she caught a glimpse of movement beside her. Turning with an annoyed look on her face, she expected to find that one of the sales ladies had sidled up to her. But that was not the case.

[fridgetothefire]

Anya likes fitting rooms for grabbing catnaps - they lock, the swanky ones usually have comfy chairs, and light music usually plays over the intercom to make people happy enough to buy more stuff. The salesladies glare, but Anya doesn't care in the slightest. A few clerks thinking she's a ragamuffin is nothing compared to the factions of mutants who treated her with pity at best, and openly wondered if Magneto was too soft for letting her and Magda live at worst.

She was just slipping out, pausing for a moment to fingercomb her sleep-mussed hair into submission in the mirror when she froze. It was Wanda. Not hers Wanda, tripping over unfamiliar english words and twelve-year-old knees, but the woman from the network, Maximoff, the Witch. She'd planned to avoid her sister until she had some idea what to say, and a thousand lies come to mind, but they all seem fake and flimsy as she stares at the two of them, so similar, side-by-side.

After a stuttering moment, all that comes out is, "Hi."

[scarlet_kitsch]

It took a moment for Wanda to register the person in front of her. As soon as she did, her expression went from active annoyance to silent shock. Instead of the expected saleslady, she found herself face to face with a girl who was eerily familiar. In fact, it was sort of like looking at a picture of Wanda from 6 years ago that had been put through Photoshop and distorted enough to be off but not wholly unrecognizable.

The part of Wanda that was not bewitched by the girl’s appearance began rapidly prodding her to say something, say something, SAY SOMETHING!

And so she hastily blurted out the first thing that came into her head.

“Hello.”

There was an awkward pause while her still partially distracted mind frantically tried to think of something nice to say.

“I like your hair?”

As soon as the should-not-have-been-a-question left her lips, Wanda mentally slapped her hand to her forehead and cringed.

[fridgetothefire]

Anya is, in a round-about way, grateful for the awkwardness. It makes it easier to seem collected in comparison. She takes a deep breath, glancing around the boutique. Not exactly dangerous, but far from private.

"We shouldn't talk here," she announces, certain and a little severe, totally out of proportion to her youth and her well-worn clothes, rescued from lost and found boxes around the city.

She jerks her head, then moves toward the door. She's not going to that Jubilee's house, and she doesn't feel quite ready to bring Wanda to her apartment. With real privacy off the table...talking while moving around is good; while moving outside with sound interference is better. "Spent any time on the beaches so far?"

[scarlet_kitsch]

It takes longer than it should have, but Wanda finally recovers her wits. The response delay isn’t surprising. She has been through a week that by anyone’s standards would be called mind-numbingly disorienting. In that short time she has suffered through the loss of her brother, a very near death experience and two alternate dimensional kidnappings. She is so tired and completely overwhelmed. And as a result she has been running on fumes, always defaulting to a stay-positive-and-friendly frame of mind simply because that is the easiest, most natural state for her.

This window shopping trip was supposed to be mindlessly relaxing. It should not have been a challenge in any way. However, snooty salesladies and a strange-but-familiar girl have ruined all of that. Now belated alarm bells are going off in her head. The strange girl’s overly serious demeanor doesn’t sit right with Wanda. It finally triggers the survival instincts her brother and the Avengers had tried to drill into her head.

“No, I haven’t, and I don’t plan to go there now without good reason.”

She tries to look stern but only manages put-upon while standing her ground, hands-on-hips, and refusing to move.

“Who are you? And what’s wrong with talking here?”

[fridgetothefire]

Anya is annoyed, but she can't be too mad at Wanda for becoming more cautious. She glances around the shop.

"It's not exactly private around here," she points out, the severity melting into an easier, sensible sort of tone. More softly, "On the beach you have waves to keep voices from carrying and no visual cover." So they would see anyone else around.

She looks away for a second as she lets herself process the other question, then looks back, aiming for confident and unconcerned but unable to keep a confused mix of one part relief and two parts hurt out of her eyes.

"You don't remember me." It's not a question.

[scarlet_kitsch]

The strange girl’s explanations only serve to further frustrate Wanda. Of course, this place isn’t private. It’s a public mall!

She grows even more confused when the girl tries to sell her on the beach by describing its tactical advantages instead its natural beauty. By doing so the girl sounds very much like Pietro, always with his guard up and thinking of how to stay one step ahead of everyone else. That attitude did not suit Wanda, who couldn’t walk through life with such distrust.

“No, I don’t remember you. How could I? We’ve never met befo— ”

Then it hits her: different dimensions. This strangely familiar teenage girl must have known an alternate version of Wanda.

“I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.” Wanda’s eyes grow softer, sympathetic. “I’m so sorry, but I’m not her.”

[fridgetothefire]

"I haven't," she says crisply, almost a snap, but not quite mean enough for it. "It's obvious you're not the Wanda I know. I just -" She shakes her head, as if to clear it, dismissive of the thought.

"You were very open about personal details on the network. You should be more careful." And under the lecturing, there is genuine concern there.