Aleksandra Makarov ❅ Maržanna (koliada) wrote in paxletalelogs, @ 2017-12-09 09:49:00 |
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Entry tags: | marzanna, sigyn |
cold resides within me
Who: Alex & James.
What: Two Northern deities enjoy the snow.
Where: Outside Pax Letale.
When: Dec. 1.
She'd had to blink a few times, and even then the reality of just what was outside still didn't quite settle in even as she was staring right at it through her window. Snow, outside. In the middle of Los Angeles, even if it was December. Alex's next reaction was to curse the fact that she didn't have any of her winter gear from living on the east coast; after all, she wasn't suppose to need it since the west coast was so much warmer than, say, Chicago or Boston.
Then she'd turned away from the window and scrounged through her closet; a pair of rain galoshes came to hand, paired with several layers of socks, then pants, a sweater with a jacket over it. Not that she ever honestly felt cold, not when it had snowed during her childhood or any of the following years as she'd grown older. But just because nerve sensation didn't detect the temperature change (at least, that's what doctors had told her, when her parents had sought after reasoning) didn't mean she shouldn't take precautions to keep herself safe.
A simple knit hat, pink, topped off with a matching scarf and Alex felt put together enough to make her way downstairs. She beat an impatient tattoo on the elevator floor as she descended, and was only slightly surprised she seemed to be the first headed out of doors to investigate this strange development. Snow was piled up against the door, causing Alex to have to shove very, very hard to loosen it enough to let herself exit. Then, her feet had crunched over the ground, the soft ice giving way beneath her weight. She glanced up... There was nothing falling from the sky in that moment, but the simple, chilly radiance from the floor was enough to convince her that this was all real.
Alex knelt, and started pulling some of the snow into her hand, crafting it into an orb.
If this place could get even more fucked up, James really wanted to know how. He also wanted to know why he was still living here, but then again, he mostly attributed it to his ability to be far too headstrong and stubborn for his own good. Looking outside and seeing a completely unnatural landscape sort of had him sighing, though. And inching closer toward apartments dot com to perhaps scope about.
But anyway, going outside seemed to be the prudent thing to do. When he packed his whole life into his car and drove from Boston to start over, he hadn’t expected to need winter clothing. So layers would have to do, and he could order something from Amazon later - for the moment, he simply piled on a long-sleeved thermal t-shirt, a sweater, and the thickest coat he had (which wasn’t very at all). And trainers that he didn’t care much about; boots would also have to be ordered, and put on a rush.
“Well, now, I had a feeling I’d find you out here,” he stated cheerfully, upon seeing Alex. Odd as it was, the scene was nice to look at - a sparkling, fresh page in the wintry sun. Crystalline, nearly bejeweled, and the blanket of snow soft and (mostly) undisturbed.
She glanced up from her work on the ball—having risen to standing, though still cupping the handful of snow—to see Emmett (wait, no, James, she mentally corrected, chastising herself with the briefest flicker across her face) joining her out in the snow. Alex did credit herself for not frowning at the fact that he wasn't Matt, and then realized she hadn't even thought to message the other man, something she'd have to correct.
Her shoulders rose and fell, a slight smile moving across her lips. "I'll say this much, I had nothing to do with all of this, as far as I know," she replied, teasingly, her memory thrown back to their "first" meeting and the strangeness that had been her hands frozen to a weight set. Combined with the events of Halloween, Alex was beginning to think she needed to run some different kinds of tests on herself.
"It's nice, though." She didn't mind the snow; she never had. The cold had always welcomed her. Alex hefted the ball between her hands, and it retained its shape as it flew a few scant inches above her palms before landing again. "I doubt anyone's got a snow shovel within city limits, though. I'm definitely calling into work sick until this gets sorted out."
“As far as you know,” James winked - and he wasn’t about to rule out Alex’s rather chilly powers; she was Queen Elsa, after all. Except a lot more snarky and sarcastic. “But I agree, it is rather nice.”
He didn’t have gloves so picking up a snowball would turn his hands red and chapped - thus, he’d simply watch Alex do it and instead exhaled contentedly, what looked like smoke but was really frosty air. How odd that the cold was concentrated to this area, what felt like the breath of winter kissing the skin. Go a bit further toward the beach and likely you’d find sunny weather again.
This was how pneumonia outbreaks started.
“If a bit disconcerting - not you, I simply mean the building in general,” he clarified. “I often wonder why any of us still live here.”
"The same thought has crossed my mind more than once," she agreed. Her hands continued turning over the snow, and then she tossed it, allowing it to land a few feet away into another bank of snow without so much as a sound.
"The Halloween party—I can safely say I've never been to something like that, and I'm hoping never again." Alex's mouth pressed into a firm line, her hands picking at her coat as though they were eager to pick up and play with more snow. She left the ice where it lay, though, turning her attention back to James.
"What did you think of all of that? The... I guess management making an appearance, and... everything else?"
“это совершенно безумно,” he responded in Russian, figuring that Alex might appreciate it - her first name was Americanised, but her surname? The roots were obviously there. Besides, James hadn’t gotten a chance to speak the language recently and he needed to keep it sharp - so telling her that the building was, essentially, completely bonkers seemed fitting. She responded with no small amount of surprise, and nodded.
"Полностью," she agreed.
He decided he wanted to at least test out the feel of the snow, so he bent to scoop up a bit of it - packing it quickly, into a ball, the chill seeping into his skin. It was the genuine artifact, able to render his bare fingers numb. “We all could have died, and then what? The fucker wouldn’t have us around to be his experiments anymore,” James rolled his eyes. “So it was a bad move on all our parts - remind me never to attend anything put together by management ever again. But anyway, I’m guessing you’ve got some sort of...snow goddess? In you?”
They all had one, that was the point. Why they were here. He knew that now, and everyone else did too.
Alex had to laugh at that—this idea that they all had gods and goddesses inside of them. Sure, it explained things neatly and easily, but it was myth at its core. Fairytales, simple, insane explanations for a time when science and reason were at its lowest. Even presented with bare facts, her brain had a difficult time completely buying it.
"Or something," she finally acknowledged. "I'm sure there's some logical explanation for all of this. Weather patterns converging, climate change doesn't just mean an increase in warmth, you know." How she would explain the snow clustering around just their building was a question for another time, one she was content to ignore. She changed tack, moving away from things like death and experiments and other ways that she and Matt were more than complicit in what was happening to everyone else in the building.
"So, you want to build a snowman?" She teased, taking a step away and looking around for the best spot to do so.
Unfortunately, climate change couldn’t explain how they were all possessed by their inner deities taking control of the wheel when ‘management’ electrocuted them, flipping some creepy switch - but honestly, it had taken James a minute to come to terms with all this fuckery too, so he couldn’t blame someone for still wanting to explain it away. At first glance, it sounded utterly bonkers and it wasn’t until you lived it that it began to sink in. He wanted answers too, but he wasn’t about to disconnect from reality and pretend it wasn’t happening.
“I love logic just as much as the next person, being a doctor and all, but - “ James trailed off, sighing. “Sometimes there are things that just defy logic.” And sometimes they were actually quite sinister in nature - he hary fellow literally pulling the puppet strings did not have their best interests in mind, that was for certain.
He chuckled when Alex asked if he wanted to build a snowman. “But aye, certainly - let’s build that snowman. Or snowwoman,” he agreed. “Haven’t done that in many years, not since Boston. It needs carrots for eyes and a corncob pipe or something, right?”
Alex grinned. "There's a requirement for making snowpeople? I think as long as it's got a face, that would suffice." She bent down and started rolling a ball, collecting snow to make it bigger and bigger.
"I wonder when this will hit the news, if it hasn't already. Wouldn't be surprised to see some meteorologists hanging out around our building."
“Meteorologists and reporters, looking for a big scoop,” James nodded. “Snow in southern California seems to be quite the scoop, anyway - at least, snow contained to just this building.” Wonderful, the spotlight would be turned on them. Because that was just what everyone needed after a disastrous Halloween.
He would try not to focus on the negative though. Not like he was the sort to even do that - more like he attempted to find the silver lining whenever possible. “A face, aye...let’s see - “ James didn’t have any extra pieces out here (some people got really complicated with their snowpeople, an admirable trait indeed), but he found a stick or two for arms. And a couple rocks for eyes and a nose and such.
“He’s going to be such a handsome devil.”
Alex looked up, grinning wide at James' offerings. She laughed.
"So very. I mean, who doesn't like simplicity? Nothing wrong with getting what you paid for." She pushed the bottom part of the snowman forward, slowly picking up steam. It was, in the end, far faster to start packing on more layers by hand. This work—something productive, using not only her hands but also her mind, turning it off to all else—helped keep her distracted.
"How are you liking the west coast so far, Emmett?" She asked, pulling the name out syllable by syllable to make clear she still wasn't completely done with their earlier encounter (or encounters, if one wanted to count those from long ago).
The snowman was either going to be a handsome devil or in need of snowman plastic surgery, but no matter - him with his squished face would be very festive anyway. When their creation looked like it was beginning to take shape, and have an actual body, he added the arms - just in case the thing decided to come alive at night and kill them all. Honestly, James wouldn’t put it past this building.
“It’s quite a change,” he replied to Alex’s question. “But when you’ve got the mob after you, you learn to become a person who adapts quickly.” There, see, a spoiler for their upcoming conversation about the trainwreck that was James’ life - wasn’t she thrilled?
She was, enough that the shock registered plainly on her pale face. Part of her actually felt bad for nagging him endlessly for the sudden change in name and overall person, but lies were lies, weren't they?
"That sort of circumstance would certainly do that," she agreed. "I didn't know witness protection got people into bartending work, though. I'd think more... CVS, gas station, something small. Less people?" Her hands worked up another snowball for a head, plunking it down on the shoulders that had already been formed. It started to roll off kilter, but Alex worked to bolster its neck.
“As long as you blend in, and more importantly find a way to support yourself when the stipend runs out, that’s the important thing,” James said - he was also a terrible liar and hated every second of having to do it, but it was either lie or die. And he wasn’t quite ready to kick the bucket yet, so in addition to be willing to adapt you’ve also got to learn how to pick your battles. Sometimes there was no ‘right’ answer, just a choice between two shitty circumstances. Life was like that.
Though honestly, working at a petrol station might have driven him to madness. Or gotten him shot in the face by a simple mugger rather than a mobster. “I’m just glad to have it all over and done with - and working as an actual psychiatrist. It may have nearly gotten me killed before but it’s what I’m meant to do.” Nose and eyes, there they went, onto the snowman’s face.
He looked...nice. “Poor fellow,” James chuckled. “Must have a hangover.”
Alex bit her tongue in making a comment regarding how James must have a particularly good knowledge of people and hangovers—why she was holding back, she wasn't quite sure, but the outing was nice and snide comments ruined 'nice.' She could, however, easily latch onto the idea of work and matching it with a passion.
"Hopefully you've learned from the last time, then, hm?" Sometimes, trying to not be mean and not actually being mean were two different things, and Alex was Alex, in the end. She tried to shape some ears onto the side of the snowman's head, but it wasn't cold enough for them to remain in place. "That freezing gift would come in handy right about now, wouldn't it?" She asked, mostly as a joke, not honestly expecting (nor wanting) a reply.
Alex took a step back, tilting her head as she studied the snowman. He certainly did add a charm to the front of the building, amid all its strangeness. "I suppose you must be finding plenty of clients in this particular building."
It was likely that Alex had her fair share of hangovers too, hadn’t she? Like that time she got so drunk her face met the floor of the bar? Ah, memories of their first time being acquainted. “Everyone should learn, and be open to learning - otherwise what’s the point?” he posed rhetorically. You’d get stuck really fast - life was a series of learning experiences, growing and changing. It was also moving on, and learning to forgive yourself. James didn’t regret treating the son of a mobster, because he’d been someone who needed the psychiatric help - but he wouldn’t go into that; it would lead to a rant about the sad state of mental healthcare in this country, and how the current clown car in control, politically, didn’t seem to give a fuck.
“That your way of asking for a session, love?” he chuckled. “I do alright, I’ll just say that much. We can just go out on that pub crawl, and have a good time. I think a good time’s sort of due right now anyway.”
Alex waved her hands, shaking her head as she laughed. "No, oh no, but I promise, when I feel like I need to talk to a head shrink, you'll be the first person I call." Her hands came down, hanging from her sides. "Bar crawls are very much more my speed. And there's still too much of this area left to be explored." Not too mention, too much of Pax itself to be explored, and she realized she'd have to be very careful with what information she told James, lest some of her and Matt's secrets slither out. She hadn't seen that Chris person since the night of the Halloween party, so it was difficult to discern how others in the building were treating him, if they cared at all.
"Speaking of, how about we head back inside for some irish coffee and warm ourselves up? You can tell me more about witness protection and how you fared, if you want," she offered, extending a hand and pointing toward the front of Pax. "Or you can pick the topic, my treat." Alex grinned.
James returned the grin, appreciating the offer - he wouldn’t mind telling her all about the clusterfuck that was being in witness protection; some things he probably still couldn’t share, but that was filed under patient confidentiality. The rest of it was fair game - and to be quite honest, it would probably do him good to talk about it a little. Nishka still hadn’t ever really asked about his life in the programme, and Alex already knew what his life entailed - being a bartender named Emmett - so he could probably get some more of the delicate nuances off his chest by talking to a friend.
“Aye, sounds grand to me,” he agreed, dusting off his (now a bit red) hands and moving toward the building’s entrance. “Irish coffee is perfect for anytime, but especially after playing in the snow.”