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Eames (legerdemainist) wrote in makebelievelog,
@ 2012-10-01 00:32:00

Entry tags:

ariadne, eames

Who: Eames and Ariadne
What: Playing in Eames' head.
Where: The shopping centre Eames keeps in his brain. Don't laugh. In reality, that means Eames is in his bed, and Ariadne's in her Studio
When: Sunday night/Monday morning.
Status: In Progress/Closed

Eames walked through the shopping centre, flicking his poker chip over his knuckles as he went and taking careful note of where things looked to be out of place or untidy in any way. Projections milled about, ignoring him for the most part, wandering into different shops or examining little trinkets in the stalls scattered along the walkways. In return, Eames ignored them all. He went into the odd shop every so often, the newer ones that had popped up since he'd arrived at the castle, and examined the different things that he'd somehow deemed important enough to identify a person, and therefore store away in their shop.

The shop for Sev was easy enough to identify. Bottles of all sorts filled the shelves that lined the shop window, each one filled with mysterious liquids or substances that gave a stained-glass effect to the whole place, and inside he found a vast selection of ingredients, books and cauldrons. Obvious enough for a potions master, but there was also a selection of slightly fuzzy mirrors amongst other little things, and he paused when he noticed the sleeping koala in the corner of the shop. He almost stepped closer, before deciding to leave the thing alone. Reg had told him that they were vicious little shits if you pissed them off, after all.

Speaking of the other man, his shop was close by, and yet again there were the obvious things; Suits, much like Arthur's, a wide range of ornamental pigs (and even a cat or two) and a hideous polyester chair, although not everything was as blatant as that. There was a small table full of misshapen tea-cups, and a vast selection of practical jokes, ranging from the stupid to the clever and oh-so-subtle. And then there was the area that was curtained off behind the till, the area where he kept Reg's secrets safe from everyone else. The entire shop carried a faint hint of the scent Eames associated most with Reg; a mixture of cigarette smoke, hot drinks and the night air.

Tracey's was just round the corner, although it had a fairly large cat lounging in the doorway and Eames didn't fancy angering the feline just so that he could nosy about in her shop. He could see in through the door enough to make out that it had the same style of decorating as Reg and Sev's had, all greys and greens with black and silver accents, and the front window was dominated by a collection of radios from different years. The main thing Eames took away from those three shops was a sense of being welcome, like he could relax inside them, relax properly.

Still, that wasn't what he was there for. He continued to walk along the walkways, heedless of any sort of direction. Every way wound up in the same place, after all; a huge fountain under a domed glass roof. Coins of all kinds glinted from under the water, along with some little trinkets he'd stolen at some point in his career. The edge of the fountain itself was wide enough to be used as a seat, and indeed, there were more than a handful of projections doing just that. Including one that looked to be Ariadne.

Lifting a couple of paper cups from a nearby food cart, he filled one with tea and sat down beside his projection of Ariadne, handing her the other cup as it automatically filled with a café noisette. Ariadne up-top wasn't talking to him and bloody hell, he missed her. This would have to do. He took a drink of his tea, and then looked round at her and smiled faintly. "I fucked up, you know," he said by way of greeting, "I fucked up, and then I didn't know what to say to fix things." He fell quiet after that, and then spoke up again after a second mouthful of tea. "I finished your packing for you. I can't bear to see you leave, the thought of it makes me sick, but Arthur says I'm being far too clingy and I should let go. You're a big girl, you're more than capable of living on your own, and the flat looks amazing. I'm just... being stupid. So I finished your packing. I am helping you to leave."

He pinched at the bridge of his nose after that and then rubbed at his upper lip. "Let's see if I have the balls to say that outside of here, hmm?" he muttered to himself.

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redscarves
2012-10-05 12:15 am UTC (link)

"I was trying to give you an out, because I thought you wanted one - or might want one, I guess." Ariadne admitted with a small shrug and a sigh. Her gaze stayed on her coffee, for a few moments, then she looked at Eames and kept her focus on him. "You've been and you were - moody. And I didn't know why. I'm feeling worn down, which is part of why I wanted my own place. I mean, the architecture is spectacular Eames but -"

And that was where it became hard to explain in-depth what she was feeling. Ariadne wasn't the sort to pour her feelings out, though she was trying since it was Eames and they had bonded a good deal over the time spent in the Land of Make Believe. "I'm going to miss you too. I'm not moving to avoid you. So many people keep leaving and I -" She swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to keep emotions in check. "It scares me, but part of that fear makes me feel isolated anymore. My friends keep leaving. And those feelings are starting to blend into the current rooming arrangement, which I don't want to feel that when around you or Danny or Arthur. An area that's mine, where you and everyone else who is here can visit, where I can step back and deal with what's on my mind on my own... it seemed the best option to take."

"You're not too bad at it. Just - you can tell me, you know? Telling me you were going to miss me wouldn't have been a bad thing."

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legerdemainist
2012-10-07 11:08 pm UTC (link)

He could tell her? Fair enough. "I, uh. I don't think... You're leaving. I know, I know, you're not going home, but you're leaving. And it's a good thing, I know it is. Objectively, I know it's all good; Christ alone knows we were probably driving you mad or something, and Daniel's just as moody as I am right now, only he's a teenager so it's permanent, and you're more than capable of living on your own. You moved to Paris, for fuck's sake, of course you're going to be fine. I know all these things. But you're leaving. And I hate it. I hate it so much that I drove you away anyway. So... It's a lot stupid and it would probably have ended up as a bad thing."

He went quiet after that, and drained his tea before the empty cup vanished. Getting to his feet, he plucked a lit cigarette out of the air and filled his lungs with smoke before shoving his hands in his pockets and pacing a little. "It's... easier to say this here," he muttered. Discussing feelings as abstract concepts, things to play upon for a job, that was one thing. Talking with Arthur within the confines of their bed was another. But anything beyond that, anything personal was always awkward and more than a bit rubbish and somehow Ariadne seemed to always catch the brunt of it. So really, he should be a lot better at this by now.

He took a hand out of his pocket and held it out towards Ariadne. "Would you like a tour while we're here?"

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redscarves
2012-10-08 10:51 pm UTC (link)

When Arthur had left for the second time, Ariadne had told Eames that she wouldn't mind if Arthur returned and the two were off dating and all of that again, so long as she didn't get third-wheel feelings again. Unfortunately, that was what had happened; the feelings hadn't come from the two dating, though. Far from it. They had come from two out of three friends having a closeness between them. Because of that bond, the subject and focus of the group's social dynamic usually shifted toward one caring, expressing concern, wonder, or some other aspect about the other. If things happened outside of the normal routine, they tended focus on each other and Ariadne was left on the sidelines, acting as a guide and giving advice, which left something wanting in her life; she was making an active choice to try removing herself from that sort of a role.

It made her immeasurably happy that they were doing well with their relationship, but she still needed platonic reassurances she mattered to both of them aside from the occasional appreciatory word or gift spread out between months.

"If all the world is a stage and we're merely players -" Perhaps it was fueled by Ariadne's watching of The Holiday a night back, when stopped over at her future apartment to shower (her coworker/friend had been more than understanding), but it was the best way she could think to summarize her feelings. "Well. I've felt like set dressing lately."

"Don't take this wrong, Eames. I know we talked before-” Ariadne shook her head, not wanting to fixate on how long ago that was, "We talked about my problems with my needing to feel like I mattered. Tortuga was a grand distraction, but I still need to feel like I matter. I can't let myself be immersed in your, Arthur, and Danny's life and not have a life of my own where I'm as much a 'lead character' and get to be part of the title. I'd like to move forward from here. I’ll still be around, just a call or text away. It would just be at separate residences."

Ariadne made the cup in her own hands vanish, then took the offered hand to help her up. Once standing, she tucked her hands into her jean pockets. "A tour would be great. Where - is here, exactly?"

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legerdemainist
2012-10-10 12:38 am UTC (link)

Eames said nothing in reply to any of her comments, he simply gestured for her to pick a walkway and then followed her as she started walking. They passed a pretzel stand soon enough, so he lifted a couple and handed one to Ariadne. He had his half-eaten before he started talking.

"You remember when you were poking through Cobb's brain and forcing him to tell you things?" he asked, even as the TVs in a nearby shop flickered to life and started playing the relevant scenes from their film. "He had that lift shaft with all the memory rooms coming off of it, things he felt that he needed to change? This is something similar, only... I'm not in a hurry to change anything. This is the construct where I store all my memories. They tend to be sorted by person, which is handy for if I need a Forgery at quick notice." He gestured to a few shops as they walked past, some more full of things than others, all of them belonging to different castle residents, and all the while, the projections flowed round them without any hassle.

"We're in my mind. In my memories," he told her, coming over to stand in front of her, "and only one other person has been this deep before. No guesses as to who I'm talking about, since you won't need them. My studio, that's, it's private, yes, but it's nothing compared to here." He ate another mouthful of his pretzel, and then started picking salt crystals off of the thing as he continued to talk. "Please, remember this the next time you think you don't matter to me. My projections, which are extremely lethal, thank you very much, are fine with you walking uninvited through the place where I keep my memories. You matter very much to me, sweetheart. Just because I don't always say it, doesn't mean it isn't true."

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redscarves
2012-10-10 09:05 pm UTC (link)

"Ingenious setup for quick forging." Ariadne nodded at the explanation, tearing off the occasional piece of the salty snack and mulling over Eames's words as he spoke. She stopped in her tracks when he went to stand in front of her, staring up at him wordlessly as he finished. She didn't want to cut him off, she just wanted to understand.

And what he said made her smile. She had heard him say she mattered before, and while the context of her being able to move freely in a deep and private level meant a good deal to her, it also left her wondering where to put things in context of the waking world. She needed to have moments where she felt that way when awake, too.

She paused for a moment and laughed a little, asking a rather irrelevant question before getting into the far more somber topic of their friendship, "If you wanted your pretzel without salt, why did you dream it with salt?"

"I don't need you to walk around saying it, Eames." Ariadne stopped eating the pretzel, focused on her discussion with the forger instead. The laugh from a moment before was gone as her lips pursed a little and her jaw set, her mind back to what was going on in the waking world. "But I could use you showing it more often when we're awake. Please? I know it has to get busy wit raising a teenager and Arthur's schedule and yours and work but - it's nice having my friends show me they care. It makes being in this place's day-to-day worthwhile, having friends who care, and it makes it hurt a little less when everyone keeps leaving."

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