ataraxion | seventh tear ♫ video;

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seventh tear ♫ video;

Hello? I hope this is working... I'm never really sure.

[ Elizabeth, looking much more cheerful than during her last broadcast, smiles brightly for the camera. ]

Well! I've been having some strange headaches lately, so I thought it might help to focus my attentions on something. I was given a few things from home in my locker after the last Jump and put them to good use.

[ Voilà! She reveals a painting. Elizabeth beams at it as she turns from the camera, then chews thoughtfully on her lip as if looking to fault it. ]

I only had red, so it isn't as... vivid as I might have liked, but I'm hoping that the next Jump will have a few more colors. [ She huffs shortly, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. ] If anyone else has any art supplies and wouldn't mind sharing, please let me know! It seems a little morbid, almost, just using black and red.

And... I can do some sketches or paintings for anyone, if there are any requests. I'm far from any kind of proficiency, but it does help to take my mind off of things.

[ private to Booker DeWitt ]

Where are you? You are on this floor and I wanted to show you something!

[ private to Murphy Pendleton ]

I wanted to apologize for-- well, everything. You know. [ She flushes, clearly fretting. ] I can't tell you how... mortified I am.

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Maybe.

[ Anything, really, so long as it makes her happy. He's not as interested in seeing Paris itself as he is in seeing Elizabeth running around and enjoying it, after all.

His stomach rumbles at the mention of food, and he sighs in quiet defeat. He should have known she wouldn't have forgotten that. ]

All right. But no lecturing, Elizabeth.

All right, all right. [ She can't help it; when there's something she can do to help the people she cares about, she'll be upfront about it. He of all people should know how persistent and stubborn she can be. ]

Off we go, then. [ And she walks out of the holodeck and toward one of the floor's two kitchens, arms linked behind her back. ] We'll have to figure out how to make something if we want a meal. I've never really mastered cooking.

[ Not in her time on the ship, anyway, and certainly not before. ]

Did you cook much before Columbia?

[ Oh, he knows. That's exactly why he's warning her to not harass him about it. ]

No.

[ He almost laughs at the thought. Booker hadn't even had a stove in his tiny apartment. Cooking was...not a part of his routine. ]

They must have...canned goods, or something.

[ Trash cake. Pineapples stored in desk drawers. You know, what normal people eat.

He feels an itch on the tip of his nose, and raises a distracted hand to rub at it. But when he takes his hand away, there's red on the tips of his fingers, and he stops walking, just staring. ]

Elizabeth...

They do. And there is produce from the gardens, and whatever they've brought on from off the ship, though since I've been here, they haven't stopped off anywhere.

[ Not that she's noticed.

And so help her if you mention trash cake!! ]

What is it? [ She turns, inquisitive, but then she sees the blood. At first she assumes something much worse, but notices quickly that it's his nose that's bleeding.

Elizabeth knows what that means. ]

Booker-- Hey, what are you remembering? [ Or, what isn't he remembering? She's never been affected by the shock of universes in the same way that others have, somehow, but she also knows that there had been other versions of herself and Booker onboard before their arrivals. Could that be it? ]

[ He shakes his head, and then winces, clutching it as a spike of pain shoots through it. ]

I don't - wait.

[ He rubs his forehead, trying to think. There aren't any conflicting memories, but...he looks up, frowning at Elizabeth. She's wearing the dress she'd had on when he first met her. She's had it since the last jump, and he'd assumed that it had appeared along with her books and paint supplies, but... ]

Have you had that since...the whole time you've been here?

Have I had-- What, my dress? [ He hadn't said that, specifically, but she can't imagine what else he might be referencing. ] No, it just appeared in my locker.

[ She takes a step closer, holding up her hands as if he's a distressed animal and she's trying to calm him. ] Until now, I only had the jumpsuits.

[ Still, it's a strange question. Elizabeth frowns slightly, searching his face, trying to make sense of it. ]

Why?

[ He shakes his head (carefully). So much for that theory. ]

I just thought - maybe something had happened over the jump. Maybe something had changed.

[ BY WHICH HE MEANS maybe he'd been pulled through something like a tear and been dumped into a universe where Elizabeth wore different clothes. ]

I don't know. I don't remember anything different.

[ Something had changed; she'd gotten her soul back. For Elizabeth, that's more than enough. But she knows what he means and shakes her head. ]

I don't... think so, but I suppose we don't know for sure. There must be someone we can ask. Over the network, or...

[ One of her friends might know. For know, she's worried, really studying his face. He hasn't paled, really, but... ]

Maybe it isn't the usual. [ It's a viable option, but not necessarily a better one. ] It may be something from the ship.

Great.

[ Neither one is a good option. He looks sour for a moment, and then notices her worried expression, and sighs. ]

I'm fine, Elizabeth.

I know, I know, just-- You know. [ She offers a tiny, unconvincing smile, then hastily tucks some hair behind her ear. ] We should...

[ And she continues wandering in search of the kitchen, keeping herself from glancing back at him to see if his nose is still bleeding.

What could it mean? She'll have to ask someone as soon as she gets the chance, eager to confirm that it's just a normal nosebleed, or something innocuous, and not a multiverse crisis. They'd had enough of those already. ]

Here. [ She steps into a kitchen, finally turning to make sure he's following, at least. ] Let's see what we can find.

[ The bleeding stops eventually, but the pounding in his head doesn't dissipate. Booker follows along quietly, digging out a handkerchief and wiping off the blood as he tries to figure out what he might be missing.

He's worried too, despite his reassurances. This can't be happening for no reason. But he can't think of any inconsistencies in his recent memory, anything that might have caused this.

He shoves the handkerchief into a pocket as they reach the kitchen, looking around skeptically. ]

Well...

[ He starts pulling open the upper cabinets, leaving the lower ones to Elizabeth, and recites what he finds. ]

Canned soup, canned beans, canned vegetables...

You're the one who's been neglecting meals; what would you like?

[ She removes a number of fresh fruits and vegetables from their containers, piling a variety on the counter. Then she grabs for two glasses and fills them with water, setting them alongside their growing options. ]

I suppose we ought to keep it simple so neither of us set the kitchen on fire...

I wouldn't say neglecting.

[ Just...skipping them entirely. Occasionally!!

He looks with a certain disappointment at the pile of produce and, especially, the water, but picks up the glass and takes a drink. ]

Does that mean no steak?

[ Elizabeth just turns, an orange in hand, looking skeptical. ]

Really, Booker? That's what you ask for?

[ Her lip curls and she just shakes her head. ]

This isn't fine dining, it's a space ship.

[ He just shrugs, looking mock-offended. Or maybe real-offended. It's been a while since he's had real food, okay? ]

Hey, it never hurts to ask.

I haven't found any meat yet; I'm not sure there is any. There aren't any animals on board, and... well, they may not have the same creatures on other planets.

[ how will you ever survive!! ]

We'll have to make do.

[ Really, he hadn't expected anything more. It's not as if he'd been enjoying gourmet meals since he came here, and even before that, he'd 'made do' for a long, long time. He wrinkles his nose at the thought of alien meat. If the people (are they people?) are blue, who knows what the animals look like? ]

All right, all right.

[ He frowns uncertainly at the stove. At least, he's pretty sure it's a stove...but it's awfully shiny and sparse, just like everything here, and there are a lot of dials on it he doesn't understand. ]

Think we can figure out how to heat some of this up without burning the whole place down?

I don't know. I wouldn't use any Vigors, for a start.

[ She isn't even sure he has any on the ship, but that's neither here nor there. Elizabeth gathers up a few of the cans and sets them off to the side of the stove, examining it. ]

It's in English, at least. [ Or it's been translated somehow. Either way, they can read it, though... ]

I really haven't used it since we've been here. [ She sighs, straightening up. ] But now is as good a time as any.

[ She finds a button that says "stove one" and presses it, after which she's prompted for a number between one and nine. Hesitating, she turns it to four, thinking lower might be better for now. ]

It... seems to be heating up. [ She notes, hand hovering over the top. ]

[ He glances over to see her hand stretched out over the stove, and reacts without thinking. All but leaping across the room, he snatches her hand away from the stove, yanking her back. ]

Be careful!

[ He barks it out like an order, and only then realizes that Elizabeth probably thinks he's mad. She's a grown woman, and even if she hadn't had a stove in her tower, even if she's never used one before, she's not an idiot. She knows not to touch hot things.

Probably.

He drops her hand, taking a step back and shaking his head. The adrenaline - or something - seems to have cleared up his headache, at least. ]

Sorry, I...I don't know what came over me.

[ He actually startles her and she cries out, thinking there's some danger, some... space-monster lurking nearby that she hasn't seen. But she realizes quickly he's referring to her hand, to the stove, and she looks at him with a growing bewilderment, brows ducking down over her eyes. ]

Booker-- [ He releases her hand and she just peers at him. That makes two of us. What could possibly have caused that reaction? Is it all the danger they've both faced thus far? ]

Don't worry. [ She sighs softly and doesn't place her hand near the burner again. ] I'm not hurt.

[ It is dangerous here - he's learned quickly not to trust the ship - but even so, that had been an overreaction. Booker stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks away, embarrassed. ]

Yeah, I - I know.

Sorry.

[ A more modern woman might punch him playfully or made a joking comment, but she only smiles knowingly. He's been the one to take care of her since they met and it's likely difficult to abandon that feeling now.

She wants to return the favor, so she puts a pot over the stove. ]

Which of the cans do you want? [ Elizabeth asks, not mentioning the moment; he seems embarrassed and she won't worsen it by belaboring the point. ]

[ He's grateful that she doesn't dwell on it, at least. If he can't take it back, they can at least pretend that it had never happened.

And he's grateful, too, that this had happened now, instead of last month. He can only imagine her reaction if he'd done such a thing while she hadn't had her soul. ]

...Let's try the soup.

[ In any case, it's time to move on. He grabs one of the soup cans at random, peering at the picture on the front. ]

At least this one has meat in it.

[ Well. Sort of. For certain values of "meat." ]

[ Elizabeth also doesn't comment on the "meat" or speculate what it might be instead of beef or chicken. ]

Fair enough.

[ She takes it from him and looks at it, turns it around. ]

We need something to open this. [ She looks at him expectantly. ] Let's see if we can find something in one of these drawers.

[ She won't suggest the Skyhook, funny though that might be. ]

[ He'd be willing to try the Skyhook, just to see, but that probably wouldn't be a good idea. Instead, he turns and starts opening drawers.

But he doesn't see anything he recognizes as a can opener. Booker frowns, picking up a variety of unfamiliar-looking implements and studying them dubiously. He holds a mango pitter up to Elizabeth, baffled. ]

What's this supposed to be?

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