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It's Brittany, Bitch | Ερις ([info]eristic) wrote in [info]paxletalelogs,
@ 2011-06-17 14:16:00

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Entry tags:erebos, eris

Working Late
Who: Charlie & Elias
What: Working late can be boring. That's probably not going to be the case with these two.
Where: Dyntek, Elias' place of work
When: 9:36 p.m.
Warnings: None yet.
Notes: Eris, Erebos is your father. Search your feelings, you know this to be true.



One good thing that could be said of Charlie's work was its entertainment value. If she wasn't 'accidentally' slipping things into people's bags or purses at the local mall in order to make time go by faster, she had occasional jobs on other building sites. Generally it was just to fill in for the usual security guard and thus was only for a day or two, but she didn't begrudge the change of scenery.

Tonight's assignment - a night shift, starting at 8 p.m. and going through until about five in the morning - was a regular office building, some company named Dyntek. She hadn't bothered to look into what they did, nor did she care to know any other information about the company aside from the number of levels there were and maybe how many people she could expect to still be staying after hours. Charlie had never been what one might call a workaholic; even when in the Marines she'd still cherished her time off, but the Marines had been more of a lifestyle to her than just another job.

After collecting the keys from her own offices, she took her bike over to the address and let herself in. A quickly entered code into a nearby keypad disarmed the alarm long enough for her to get inside, as was her prerogative, and now she was exploring the halls, flashlight in hand. Dressed from head to toe in her Pacwest Security Supervisor uniform, hair tucked back into a neat ponytail, face stoic and mouth in a hard line, she looked the picture of slightly disapproving authority. Of course, the only thought going through her mind was a feeling of boredom and how much she'd rather at least be in a mall full of people, who could provide ample distraction until the end of her shift.

It was beginning to look like she'd be all alone in the building, when her flashlight stumbled upon a face in one of the offices. Without apology, she kept the beam focused on its discovery.


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[info]the__dark__one
2011-06-25 04:39 am UTC (link)
The voice struck him immediately. That abrasive demeanor with which he'd cloaked himself immediately dropped, softened -- first in recognition and then in concern. He knew her.

He didn't know anything about her, other than the fact that she'd been in his apartment building the night of the blackout. He knew that she'd been talking with Ms. St. Giles. He knew that her name was --

"Charlie," he said. "You're Charlie. Are you feeling better from the other day?"

And as simply as that, Elias was no longer furious with the carelessness of a night guard; he was truly concerned. Something about this woman made him feel... protective. There was little sense to it. Perhaps he tied her unconsciously to Ms. St. Giles and therefore felt the need to protect the ones she had connected herself to. Perhaps he felt sympathy for her struggles that had been so plainly evident that dark night. He could guess at the reasons. Given enough self reflection alone in a dark and quiet room, Elias probably could discover the answer; for now, it was guesswork only.

Regardless of why, there was no doubt that he did in fact feel protective of Charlie. Whether or not the woman needed it. When she left that night, his first thought had been to chase after her, to make sure she was all right. Ms. St. Giles stopped him from doing that, but he was still concerned for her.

"You seemed like you weren't doing very well the night of the blackout," he said. And his voice had changed, too. It was soft, soothing. Gentle, even. Dark crushed velvet. No more violence in those deep undercurrents. Elias reached to his side and flicked on the office lights, again shielding his face from the momentary blindness his actions threw on him.

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[info]eristic
2011-06-28 07:14 am UTC (link)
The man's response confused Charlie - how did he know her name? The blackout? How had he known about that... A fellow resident, obviously. That much she could connect in the short term, but she couldn't put a name to his face. Lost in the action of trying to place him, the lights momentarily blinded her and left her attempting to blink away the white. Frowning hard enough to hurt, she put a hand to her face to rub at her left eye while both attempted to recalibrate to the adjusted room lighting.

"Don't think I've met you before," she all but growled, though it was tempered. She was having that same feeling she'd experienced while talking to Cat - a sense of deja vu, or some kind of recognition that went deeper than merely concluding the fact that he was an apartment dweller at Pax. Hands settling on her belt with a hip cocked, she looked a little rebellious, and it was an apt stance since she didn't particularly care for this man to spoil her fun as he had. And yet, in a similar vein as Cat, this man had a relaxing effect on her. She wasn't sure how she felt about that, but there wasn't much of a choice in the fact that her hackles were being proverbially lowered.

"I take it you live at Pax." The words and the statement were less vicious than they could have been, Charlie, for some reason, finding herself choosing them with some care. Her eyes traveled away from him for a moment, taking in the layout of the office space, trying to feign disinterest though, again, she felt the same urge to discover how and why she seemed to know this man, as she had with Cat.

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[info]the__dark__one
2011-06-30 01:23 am UTC (link)
"Indeed," he said in agreement.

Bathed in its chemical light, the office Charlie surveyed looked very much like any other office -- with one difference: there were absolutely no personal effects on display. No picture frames decorated the desk; no diplomas or awards decorated the walls; no special drapes or rugs or posters adorned the usual places. The desk, the sliding cabinets, the chair, and the guest chairs were all company-issued. The only personalized items were the pen cup and the stapler sitting between the large set of two flat-screen monitors on the desk (one on and one off). And these two items could have been from any office store shelf; they were black with no particular design element to make them stand out. They simply... were.

In short, Elias' office was large enough to belong to mid or upper management, equipped for programming and team management, and absolutely devoid of any distractions. It looked to be efficient, and the layout of the furniture and devices were optimized for working, but nothing of Elias' personality was embedded here.

"My name is Elias Sandoa," he said, extending his hand. "And I am the newest resident on the second floor. The only resident, in point of fact. I've never met you here before; this isn't your usual assignment, is it?"

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[info]eristic
2011-07-01 06:11 pm UTC (link)
The plainness of the office space struck Charlie, and though her own apartment was nearly the same in terms of sparseness, her mind instantly conjuring things like serial killers, mainly the Hollywood types like Hannibal Lecter and the popular-and-loveable kind like Dexter. Which kind was Elias? The fact that she thought of such things was enough to make her laugh, but that seemed inappropriate at the moment, and she waved a hand in lieu of taking his offered one.

"Yeah, I'm just here for tonight - these things, they come, they go, but at least it keeps things interestin'. This your office? It's damned empty," she continued the conversation along, ignoring the fact that she'd sidestepped his handshake.

"A whole floor to yerself, huh? What, you don't play well with others?"

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[info]the__dark__one
2011-07-05 02:13 am UTC (link)
She had avoided talking about herself altogether. He took in the stark lines of her dress, the absence of adornment, the crispness of her uniform. There were tiny things, little things, that informed the type of person she may be. Elias smiled, faintly. She wasn't much younger than he. Yet, he felt during the night of the blackout -- and still felt, tonight -- a strong sense of protectiveness with regards to this girl.

Woman. Really, she wasn't a girl anymore. He ... Elias realized that he thought of her as a girl. Odd. Odd, indeed.

It was doubly odd that she seemed to want to fight with him. Elias flexed his fingers, then dropped his hand to his side.

"Perhaps," he said, with no emotion in his voice. "Better than you. I have asked about your welfare. I have given you my name and you have not returned the favor. I have extended a respectful greeting, which you have dismissed. You have been mostly combative for no reason that I can fathom. Explain yourself."

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[info]eristic
2011-07-05 06:17 am UTC (link)
This guy was just out to knock her off kilter. Or maybe it was just that whole sense of deja vu. Either way, she had the strong sense that she was being reprimanded, and that beating around the bush wasn't going to be tolerated in the least. Part of her was absolutely enraged by the thought that someone else would presume to tell her that she was wrong, and yet another part of her was telling the first half to shut it's mouth, now wasn't the time.

A long blink bought her another few moments of thought, along with showcasing a very confused expression. "Excuse me? There's no reason at all for me to 'explain myself'," and the quotation was escorted by a large quotation gesture made in the air, "to anyone, especially not you. You're sure as hell not my boss, and doubly sure as hell not my daddy." The word struck a chord with her, in some sense hitting the nail on the head to match the feeling of having met this man somewhere before.

Rather than feeling ornery as usual, she felt more like a child speaking to an adult, needing to explain some naughty action for which there was no explanation, the only result of which would result in punishment that felt unfair. For some reason, she found herself blabbering on. "I ain't never been told that I don't work well with others. Mostly. Might be a bit of an exaggeration, but still, nobody's perfect."

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[info]the__dark__one
2011-07-06 03:45 am UTC (link)
When Charlie said that bit about her "daddy," Elias felt his blood pressure rise. Later, he would examine this moment, turn it over and over in his head, and try to make sense of his responses -- and hers. For now, he crossed his arms and sternly stared at Charlie, one eyebrow raised, until she was done.

And when she was done, he frowned even deeper at her. Not only was she failing to address any of the important pieces to his statements, she was being defensive about it. Defensive, when she had no grounds on which to stand. Defensive, when she should instead have been considering the truth in what he said -- and ways to correct the errors she'd made.

"Is that so?" he asked, very softly. His voice was gravel and authority wrapped up in one long, dark, velvety monotone. His face had not changed at all; in fact, it seemed he wore no expression whatsoever. But his eyes, ice green and afire, told a different story entirely.

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[info]eristic
2011-07-07 04:54 am UTC (link)
She felt like she wanted to hide under a rock, or just melt through the floor - what had started out as a perfectly harmless prank was morphing into something else. Charlie glanced away from Elias again, and then back, and then away as though her eyes were ping-pong balls in a particularly frenzied game. Finally she gave a slight shrug.

"Well obviously I'm fine. What, I'm supposed to thank you for asking? I'm standin' here, talkin' to you, not laid up in the hospital with wires an' shit all hooked up to me." Her voice was quick, rushing to get the words out before she suddenly changed her mind. Something telling her that just getting it over with would be less painful than continuing the rebellious streak she'd been humoring only moments before.

"An' you know my name. Not that it's hard to remember or anything - Charlie. You heard it, you obviously remembered it, so why are you askin' for it again?" The question, which should have come out brazen and confrontational, ended in nearly a squeak as her voice shriveled up inside her throat.

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[info]the__dark__one
2011-07-08 05:57 pm UTC (link)
The image of this girl -- woman -- pale, immobile, covered in harsh chemical light and surrounded by the mechanical chirp of medical instruments seized Elias by the heart and shook him violently. Although his body remained as solid and steady as a bulwark before the diminishing stream of Charlie's stubborn words and actions, he was very much affected by the idea of her in worse trouble than he had seen her on the night of the blackout. He wanted to be sure she was safe. Needed. He needed to be sure she was all right.

In a blinding moment of clarity, he realized that she may have been suffering from the same thing as he, that night. There was no rational reason why this may be so, but he was learning quickly that life at Pax was nothing like rational -- at least, it hadn't been yet.

"I also suffered that night," he explained, his arms dropping again to his sides. "I wonder if we experienced similar symptoms. Perhaps we are being affected by something in the building. What can you tell me about what happened to you?"

Charlie. Charlie. He still didn't know her last name, and he still couldn't look her up at home. But the building was not so large. He could always check the mailboxes for a "Charlie". Surely there could not be so many as that. Pax did not seem to him to be very crowded. And the concierge surely knew her last name as well. It was simply a matter of asking him. He would have preferred that she tell him herself, but...

He also didn't understand why she wanted to quarrel with him. He naturally would not allow it. But he wanted to know why. He wanted, he realized, to know everything about her. It was different with her than it was with Ms. St. Giles, however. His interest in Charlie was protective -- nothing more. His interest in Ms. St. Giles ran toward protective, but then beyond, to hotter, darker places. Charlie fit in none of those places.

Elias frowned and crossed his arms again. His days and nights were turning odd.

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[info]eristic
2011-07-10 04:32 pm UTC (link)
Charlie understood the man well enough, but simply didn't comprehend his apparent desire or need to know about her well-being. All it made her want to do was throw some horrendously rude words in his face, turn on her heel and walk out the door - but then there was that feeling in the back of her mind that she shouldn't do that, though the reason why was shrouded in darkness and just out of reach. Her tongue darted over her lips, wetting them and giving her a few seconds to try and think of how to respond.

"Sure as hell hope that buildin' hasn't got asbestos or whatever, not for the price I'm payin'," she remarked. Another distracting sentence, another attempt to not answer the question; Charlie gave a sigh. He and Cat were two who had seen her acting strangely, but only Rylee had been the one to know exactly what had happened to her. And even telling the man who'd been her best friend for nearly fifteen years had taken some work. Pushing the words out like there was a net in her throat, blocking the passage of such a weak admission.

"I, uh, had some...problems. With my ears. I, uh, was...hearin' things." The sentence was slowly and painfully produced, over the course of a few minutes, and she took in a deep breath of air afterward as though to reward herself. Of course, now she'd done it, it'd be one question after another, and she tried to steel herself for the inevitable barrage.

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[info]the__dark__one
2011-07-11 02:33 am UTC (link)
Elias surprised himself - and perhaps even Charlie - with a faint smile at the remark regarding asbestos. It was one of Charlie's attempts at avoidance, certainly; but it was also rather amusing. Then again, if she hadn't looked like she was about to go on, then he probably wouldn't have found the freedom to smile. He didn't want to fight with her, but he would have his answers.

"Voices," Elias responded, once she stopped struggling with her words and placed end punctuation on her sentence by that deep breath of hers. "Voices that belonged to a memory -- and the memory was and was not your own. Is this how it seemed to you?"

His own experience had not been solely an audible attack; his had been flashes of light that felt like tears in his mind. Through those cracks, he'd seen... something. He couldn't name it. But in the worst of the pain, he heard voices himself. Voices, and then a vision, of a memory that felt very much like it belonged to him -- but was not of him, and was not of his own past.

It was a risk, telling her. She might well think he was straight delusional. He felt like he was, some days. But Elias had a dogged attachment to the truth, no matter how brutal. And if he were to demand it from this ... woman, then he would give her nothing less in return.

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[info]eristic
2011-07-12 01:57 am UTC (link)
A look of surprise registered on Charlie's face, there for but a moment before it was replaced with par for the course stoicism. More than long enough, though, for her conversational partner to recognize that he had hit the nail on the head regarding her predicament the other night, when a seemingly machine-made noise had distorted and blocked out all other sound, with exception of the voices that made her believe herself mad.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, you...you're spot on," was her slim reply, spoken with a bit of awe that was quickly swallowed up. Memories of her own - that no one need know about, the most painful ones she carried around in her grey matter, striking when they had no place nor reason to show themselves - and then a memory of someone else's, almost a child's and yet not. There were no words in her vocabulary (or even in the English language, much less the world at large) to describe what she'd heard, so Charlie didn't even attempt to.

She gave this Elias another slow look, as though seeing him in a completely new light. Sure, he'd pressed truth out of her, but had done so in a demanding, straight forward manner. He wasn't pitying her, or necessarily offering her solace - just that he, too, had shared in the experience and could commiserate in return. "I don't think that's a symptom of asbestos, though, if memory serves right." Of course, he needn't know about her other afflictions, the ones that had given ground to the voices and reason for her temporary insanity.

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[info]the__dark__one
2011-07-16 11:39 pm UTC (link)
"No," Elias answered, finding the searching look that he gave her being returned to him again as he watched her face. So they both knew something more than they were saying -- and then perhaps...

"Neither is seeing things," he hazarded. He wasn't willing to say more than that. Not yet. Not to this strange girl he wanted to protect.

Even if she hadn't seen the same thing he had, even if their experiences weren't quite the same, it was clear that they had both been a part of something very unusual. But what did that mean, then? And what could they do with knowledge like this? He was forced to admit that at this point, none of it really mattered -- except to establish that they were not mad. And if they were ill, they were ill with possibly the same thing.

But what sort of illness produced memory triggers? And memory triggers that were and weren't your own? The easiest explanation was insanity. But no, that was the easy explanation -- and not the correct one.

"I would like to know what happened that night," he said again. And this time, as he looked at her, he was asking for the full truth.

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[info]eristic
2011-07-17 04:39 pm UTC (link)
She swallowed, a strikingly nervous gesture that she was usually able to control and suppress. It wasn't that she was afraid of this man, necessarily, but more of the idea of relating what had occurred and temporarily reliving it. This Elias was in no position to be asking her these questions, and she could easily say no. In fact, part of her was screaming to say no and to just walk away.

The feeling that told her to behave was urging her to come clean, because this man would understand. He would possibly do more than that, but Charlie wasn't quite comfortable with that newly presented notion just yet.

"I was talking with Cat," she started slowly, giving the briefest of details. "And it just hit me. I...couldn't hear. Anything. Just this...buzzing noise." She waved a hand by her ear to add an image to her story. "Couldn't understand her, and I didn't see you.

"Lobby was where I heard voices first. So I went to my apartment," she continued, carefully and as logically as she ever got. "I had someone take care of me. Not that I needed it," she tacked on at the end, her chin jutting up pridefully.

"But you didn't hear nothing. You saw things. Is that what yer sayin'?"

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[info]the__dark__one
2011-07-23 06:12 am UTC (link)
A darkness crossed over Elias' expression. Both of them had one thing in common, apart from where they lived: they had both been in close proximity to Catherine St. Giles when this had happened to them. Almost immediately, his instincts told him that it wasn't Ms. St. Giles' fault and that he shouldn't look at her as suspect. But because of that reaction, he was all the more interested in exploring that very idea - if only to clear Ms. St. Giles.

There was also, of course, the obvious connection of their living quarters. He should give that just as much thought as the first similarity between them. It was food for thought.

"Yes," he responded. "First, I saw flashes of light, not unlike lightning. And then, between the jagged strikes, a shape of... some sort of beast. It was, and it was not. I lost my vision. It seemed to me that I was suffering from a migraine -- but for that strange creature. And then, I saw a... It was a memory of mine, but I had never lived it. The entire ordeal lasted nearly 24 hours. But I experienced no auditory symptoms."

He frowned deeply. Their experiences were only alike in some ways -- and if one were to compare the two, one would be forced to say that they seemed to be suffering from two different things. But something about that conclusion seemed wrong, wholly wrong.

"I will admit to not knowing what to make of our experiences," he finally said. "Do you have any theories?"

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[info]eristic
2011-07-24 01:54 am UTC (link)
His description was as cold, clinical, and to the point as the surroundings providing the backdrop for their current conversation. Still, Charlie listened carefully, comparing his words to her own experiences. The voices she'd heard were certainly not things she'd ever heard before in her life, but they had struck a chord in her that was so terribly familiar.

But she openly laughed at his question, regardless.

"Theories? What do I look like to yah, a fuckin' scientist?" Her hands waved to present the black security guard uniform she was wearing, in lieu of a lab coat and rubber gloves. Of course she had a good theory for her own episode the night the power had gone out, but advertising her condition to all and sundry was not at the top of the list of priorities for her. In the end, she'd prefer to pretend that none of it had happened, much like she pretended a good portion of her life simply had not occurred because she didn't like the outcomes.

"No, I don't. I mean, as far as I knew, until now, shit only happened to me an'-" She stopped short at that point, unsure if she should reveal that Rylee too had been hurt, possibly worse so than she had. And yet his grievous wound had disappeared the next morning, while her symptoms had not. That was something to consider as well.

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