ataraxion | seventh tear ♫ video;

Entry tags:

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ It doesn't look like the most appetizing meal in the world, but at least it'll be hot. Which is more than he can say for most of the food he's been eating lately.

Booker peers at the can, scanning the instructions. ]

Ten minutes?

[ He glances at the soup again doubtfully. ]

Is that long enough?

If that's what it says. [ Elizabeth shrugs, peering into the pot, and then steps back. ] I suppose it won't go much faster by our watching it.

[ So she moves farther away and begins peeking around the kitchen, hands twined behind her back. ]

I didn't have a kitchen in my tower. Songbird always brought meals for me. I really have no idea how much preparation goes into all of this.

[ He frowns at the pot, but turns away, watching as Elizabeth investigates the kitchen. ]

Depends how invested you are. And how good you want it to taste.

[ Canned soup isn't exactly gourmet, but Booker's standards are low. ]

You'd probably be good at it if you learned how.

Well, I don't think you should only half try in making food, especially for other people. [ She sifts through a cabinet full of pots and pans. ]

You think so? [ She pauses to smile at him, then resumes her search. ] Maybe with practice...

Sometimes food is just food. [ Like when you're digging it out of the trash. ] But if anyone could learn to do it right, it's you.

[ He shrugs, glancing back at the pot on the stove once she looks away again. Now that he's actually here and can smell the soup cooking, he's starting to realize just how hungry he'd been, and his stomach rumbles in anticipation. ]

I think you're being too kind. [ She smiles almost cheekily and tackles a different drawer, one with other canned goods inside. Though she does hear his stomach from where she's standing and it stops her short, drawing out a bright-sounding laugh. ]

Booker DeWitt! I think I just heard your stomach rumble!

[ If she can needle him about it, then she will. That's the nature of their relationship. ]

[ For all that he's perfectly comfortable slaughtering people mercilessly in front of Elizabeth, there are still some things that Booker is oddly shy about. There are certain things you just don't do in front of women (or girls, as he still considers Elizabeth). Waking up naked after the monthly jump and having to make his way through a mass of other naked people before he can get himself decently covered is still a special kind of hell for him.

And now this. He turns bright red, looking as mortified as if he'd belched or worse, and freezes. ]

I - I'm sorry.

[ Elizabeth only smiles, canned fruit in hand. He knows better than most exactly how sheltered her life has been; between a solitary life in the tower and then an extremely modern experience on the space ship, her understanding of social cues is... skewed, to say the least. She seems anything but offended as he apologizes and shakes her head dismissively. ]

After everything, something like that doesn't bother me. [ It's endearing that he does seem so concerned by it; she imagines in the civilized world below and in Columbia, too, things like that are considered rude. But there are so many worse things that a person could do, she's seen it herself, and can't bring herself to be offended by a noisy expression of his hunger. ]

[ He's still embarrassed - whether or not she's offended doesn't change the fact that it is rude - but it helps that Elizabeth doesn't seem to mind. Booker just nods, avoiding her eyes and busying himself finding spoons and bowls for their soup. ]

It should be ready soon.

[ He hopes. ]

All right... [ She withdraws a few paper towels intent to use as napkins and then exhales decisively, nodding at their work. ]

I don't think we've done that badly of a job. [ They have water and food that they'd (more or less) put together themselves; it's not a lot, but it's something. ] Maybe next time we can cook two things.

[ He finds a ladle and spoons the soup into bowls before offering one to her. ]

Maybe.

[ Booker glances doubtfully at the assortment of canned goods and the few pieces of fresh produce they'd found. ]

What did you have in mind?

Thank you. [ She takes it into her hands before transporting it to another section of counter. Elizabeth glances around, then spies a few metallic stools off by the wall. She moves toward them and brings two over, huffing out an exhale as she sets them down. ]

There! And, "what did I"... Oh! Well... I didn't have anything in mind, really; I don't know many recipes. I'm sure we could find one in the media libraries that seems easy enough. Or we could ask someone?

[ He tries to get over and take the stools from her to carry the rest of the way, but she's too quick, setting them down before he can really help. Instead, he pushes her soup over to her and pours her some water before sitting down himself. He'd have been just as content to eat standing, really, but if Elizabeth wants to sit... ]

I don't know who we'd ask.

[ That's what happens when you only have one friend, Booker. He spoons up some soup and swallows it down, considering. Not bad. Not good, either, but... ]

What's your favorite food? What would you make if you could?

... I'm not sure. [ It's sad, maybe, but it makes sense. ] I didn't really have a selection when Songbird brought it for me and here... well, it's been a lot of the same. [ She shrugs lightly, and then adds hurriedly: ] Not that it's bad; I'd much rather eat something simple that I can make myself than... you know.

[ The tower.

Elizabeth considers the question again. ]

Something light? Maybe with fruit, or vegetables... though, that sounds more like a good appetizer or side dish than meal. [ She chews on her lip. ]

Salad, maybe?

[ He sounds a little dubious. Salad is okay once in a while, but as a favorite food? He frowns, trying to think of something...well, more exciting. ]

What about that cotton candy you tried?

[ Elizabeth wrinkles her nose at the former suggestions. ]

No, I don't think so. That doesn't sound... [ She shakes her head decidedly; they're in agreement that it isn't exciting enough to be a favorite food.

The second has her laughing again and she has to set her spoon down. ]

Cotton candy? [ She smiles brightly, remembering the free sample on the boardwalk. ] ... Well, it was very good, but I don't think you're meant to eat it for a meal.

Just as well. I wouldn't know how to make it, anyway.

[ Not that he knows how to make much else, but cotton candy sounds especially challenging.

He takes another bite of the soup, hunched awkwardly over the bowl on the tiny stool. It's just canned soup, nothing exciting, but he's...happy, anyway, or as happy as he's capable of being. It's been a long time since he'd sat down to a meal with anyone. Even in Columbia, he and Elizabeth hadn't done more than scavenge what food they could on their way through the city.

And then a drop of blood falls from his nose, splashing into the soup, and he stops with his spoon in the air, staring. ]

I wonder how you would make it. Sugar, and... milk, maybe? But otherwise, I'm not sure, either.

[ Hmm. She takes a sip of the soup, perfectly content with what they've made.

Until. ]

Again? [ She questions quietly, frowning at him from her seat. She won't intervene (much), mostly because she isn't sure what to do. ] ... How are you feeling?

[ Booker pulls out his handkerchief and holds it to his nose. It's not too bad this time, but coming just after the other one like that... ]

Headache.

[ He shakes his head, irrationally upset about his soup being ruined. ]

Why is this happening?

[ Without comment and as discretely as possible, Elizabeth pushes his dish away and slides her own bowl in front of him. ]

Again. [ She repeats, and sighs. ] I wish that I knew. You haven't hit your head, or... gotten any kind of other injuries, have you?

[ Though she's fairly sure of the answer. What could this be? ]

It... could have something to do with the pressure up here, couldn't it?

No, nothing's happened.

[ He frowns at the bowl suddenly in front of him, and wordlessly pushes it back to Elizabeth. ]

It could, but...why now? Nothing's changed.

[ He sighs, and he has to ask, although he's sure he knows the answer. ]

You haven't had anything like this happen, have you?

[ She, in turn, slides it back in front of him with slightly more force than before. ]

I don't know. ... I think some things change here that we can't feel, exactly. There may have been something keeping the pressure at a certain level that isn't functioning anymore, or... we've traveled to a different location. I think that it could be a lot of reasons.

[ She fiddles briefly with her thimble. ]

... A little. I've had a few headaches and-- Well, not as much as you have.

[ He doesn't push it back - this is getting ridiculous - but he does ignore it for the moment, instead looking at Elizabeth in concern. She hadn't mentioned any of this before. ]

A few headaches, and...?

And a nosebleed. [ She won't lie to him about it if there doesn't seem to be anything really wrong. Elizabeth calmly takes a sip of water and eyes him closely, noting the blood at his own nose, guessing there might be a throbbing near his brain to accompany it. ]

The food isn't helping at all, then. [ Whoooops, directed that conversation right back to him and his issues, thanks. ]

[ Elizabeth getting a nosebleed is honestly more worrying than Booker getting two himself. He frowns at her, then sighs and glances at the bowl. He'd inhaled a surprising amount of his own soup before he'd ruined it by bleeding in it, but he's still hungry.

Even so, he's not about to let her go without on his account. ]

You've hardly touched this, Elizabeth.

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