Hey now, what's your name? Who Lennox and Peisinoê When: October 12th Where: Text message thread Warnings: None
Peisinoê had just sat down for some early evening tea and her laptop to continue working on the latest article to submit to one of her favorite medical journals when her phone buzzed. It was Saturday but she still had put in half a shift alongside some of the other medical staff at the clinic, their city sometimes adhered to mortal schedules and sometimes the exact opposite so it was hard to predict. A great many of the people weren't there still though, and it gave her the peace to work on experiments and such.
It wasn't that she had issues being still or anything. The twins had been taught, trained even, to stand still and listen to droning on politicians while looking like pretty, attentive statues. But if she weren't being productive in some way she felt like she was failing… Who, she wasn't sure exactly, but she hated disappointing anyone.
The number wasn't one she recognized but that wasn't unusual. It happened often, her parents gave her number to distant relatives, patients, former colleagues, fellow academics and now the Masquerade.
Hello?
That was the first text he had entered casually into his mobile device, nimble thumbs and fingers grazing that sheen of hazy glass in effort to punch in the letters appropriate. It felt awkward, even with a phone and however much distance between them, texting a random number.
What if he sent the message to the wrong person? What if whatever message he was trying to get across wasn’t received correctly? There was so much sitting on his shoulders but he was brave and Lennox had faced heavier things in his time on the earth.
Sorry to bother you. Saw your number on a flyer, hope it's ok to text. Wanted more info on the stuff going on in town. If that’s cool.
Stupid. That was stupid. Damnit.
A breath escaped him, short and sharp. Lennox peered up at the patrons in the coffee shop sitting around him. Nobody seemed to be paying him any mind at all, which he was grateful for.
The hello made her think it wasn’t a patient, as usually one of them opened with Doctor? and a (usually) rambling explanation of whatever their issue is shortly thereafter.
It was enough for her to put down her tea out of curiosity and interest. Then her phone vibrated again, and her lips twitched into a smile. It was the sort of over explained, apologetic introduction that she would have given. Unlike so many of the residents of their town, where strains of arrogance or compulsive lying were common.
As well as a dislike of texting, one of those modern things that some were still hesitant to pick up and others were still fascinated by it like she was of shiny pearls as a child.
Nimble hands typed out a reply, with her usual too-formal, by the book, manner of speech she used when she was serving in a professional capacity Good evening! No problem at all! That’s what I’m here for! I’m so pleased you are interested, are there specific questions you have?
Peisinoê examined the message twice before nodding, pleased with herself, and hit the send button.
Not sure came the reply text. Lennox was a touch startled that whoever it was had replied so quickly but he supposed with the modern age being as advanced it wasn’t unheard of to get back to someone that fast.
Thought I could see what needed to be done. I take photos. It was all he could offer on short notice that might have any bearing on the reason behind his texting.
Helping a community was something Lennox took pride in. Before the accident he had wanted to help less, but now he was a touch more eager to pitch in. Perhaps with the hope to one day fit in somewhere.
A delicate sip of tea, a quiet pleased hum at tasting it was just the right temperature and brew time. It was one of the few feminine arts she had taken to well, likely because it had combined so well with the sciences.
Her head tilted at the messages, this time giving whoever it was a few moments before she even picked up her phone as they seemed like a multi-part texter. Peisinoê rather liked texting. She had gotten very good at it in College with lab parters and even professors, along with her sister, and it cut out a lot of opportunities for botching social situations.
Photos would be wonderful! I know a great many residents are uncomfortable with those sorts of things usually, but with masks and such I’m hoping everyone will be more at ease, yes? Oscar Wilde said you must give someone a mask to see their real selves, so you might get some interesting pictures! Oh no, that was a ramble, and it was already out in the ether on the way. Perhaps her day had been longer than she realized.
I very much appreciate you taking the time to volunteer she tacked on, belatedly.
The mention of finding ones true self with a mask was a touch unsettling to him. He understood what she was saying and had they been face to face his own expression might’ve given away his true thoughts on the subject at hand. As it was, they were only texting.
Sounds cool.
It did. It sounded super cool. He doubted he would wear a mask - not only was it a challenge to get good shots when you only had two small peep holes to peer through, he found masks odd. I can’t wait.
I’m Len, BTW. Lennox Wolfram. That was probably relevant information lest he come as the mysterious masquerade photographer.
It did sound cool to her as well. Even if that word in particular hadn’t come into her vocabulary until they were land bound and even then, never around her parents. It almost felt foreign when she rolled it across her tongue. Too informal, too vague.
She, herself, doubted she would have much ‘real self’ exposed, too nervous, buzzing about making sure everything was going properly. That, and it seemed like she had equally positive and dreadful memories associated with galas. Hopefully this would help.
Her head tilted at the name, automatically trying to place it. Interesting etymology, and the last name was quite a bit more familiar to her than the first. Peisinoê had an excellent memory, though not always for people. But this one had the faint air of something that had been drilled into her. She was so distracted it took her a bit longer than the last few messages to respond, setting down her tea she had been staring at narrow eyed in her too-focused state and nearly mumbling an apology to it.
A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wolfram. I am Peisinoê van der Zee. What will you need? A map of the location with the events and such marked?
Blending in had been the key to survival for his kind; eaters of man moving like shadows amongst their prey in effort to catch them unawares. As the ages changed so did their adaptation; clothing, trends, dances, music, vocabulary - each period brought something bold and innovative.
The messages weren’t replied to right away but Lennox was not deterred. Modern age demanded the here and the now, though it seemed patience still prevailed.
And then his phone vibrated with the reply.
You too, he plugged in quickly. Was that too quickly? Too eagerly?
Please. Just Lennox. Or Len. Mister sounded far too formal for his tastes. Glad to meet you, too. He sent over an emoji of a smiling face waving hello for good measure, and saved her contact information into his phone accordingly.
Yes, please, if you wouldn’t mind. No rush.
Peisinoê glanced over at her paper that she had been about to resume, but her mind was firmly in party planning mode, along with this new element to the gala. Her phone vibrated again, though she let it sit for the time being. She plugged him in like a new element to her equation, seeing where he fit and how it changed things, that was how her mind wrapped around people.
She closed down her laptop and folded up her notebook, carefully setting both aside and patting them fondly like she would a pet.
Len seemed to leave an entirely different impression than Lennox, one casual and laid back, the other formal and posh. Lennox sounded like he might be a wise professor, while Len worked at the record shop.
Thank you, Lennox. Her fingers paused halfway into a sentence giving him permission to call her by her nickname that she had started using on land, preferring that to hearing the mortals butcher her first one. But still. There was a standing bias towards her real name, If my name gives you difficulty, you may call me Percy. It left her biting her lip in frustration, seeming to be too much and not enough, but she hit send before she could overthink it.
Oh, she wouldn’t need a lenient time window for that request. Peisinoê could be kindly called Type A and was quite prepared. She quickly pulled up her too-organized files on her phone to send him a file both PDF and .JPG form, a blueprint of sorts she had designed herself. There were two large gazebos marked, with detailed measurements written in her neat hand, tables with the types of food, tables for the baking contest, a dancing area, and a newly groomed path through the park as well. All of it neatly marked and annotated with notes organized beneath that included dates of expected completion and possible contingency plans.
Please let me know if these files will not load, I can attach them as an email as well.
He waited almost impatiently - a foot tapping, the finger curled around his phone brushing at the plastic of the case it was contained within. Was he nervous? Not really, talking to people over text was easier for him considering - but what if the person on the other end saw what he’d become? What if they turned him away?
Lennox didn’t get that vibe.
But he did feel the vibration as the message popped up onto the screen.
Percy. He typed back, quickly, chewing at a lip. Maybe when I see you, you can pronounce your name for me. It sounds French. But he could be wrong. He’d been mistaken before. Worldly as he was, languages had been an adventure that he no longer was able to take.
Thumbing through the documents sent, his eyes flickered over the screen. It certainly was organized and he appreciated the time and dedication Percy had put into the event. Got them. Looks great. Very organized. Everything seemed to be moving in the right direction.
Already his mind was whirring with endless possibility. He still had yet to go back to the main thoroughfare of town to take the picture that Parthenope (who he was not yet aware was Percy’s sister) had suggested. It nagged at the creative part of his brain. One of these days he was going to settle down for good and open up a gallery.
I’m looking forward to it. Next to that, Lennox sent a smiling face emoji for good measure.
That earned a genuine laugh from her, a sound that wasn’t canned and a smile that wasn’t hidden by a careful hand like she had been taught, but no one was around to enjoy. It’s Greek, and I would be happy to do so. Her fingers paused over the glass before typing out a happy emoji, watching it dance, briefly animated on their text message thread.
The smile turned pleased at the compliment, he didn’t realize that it was exactly the right thing to say, which made it more endearing. Compliments on her work, on her achievements were always preferred over the ones to her lineage or her looks - they were both something she felt conflicted on, and both the scorn and pride she felt in intermittent waves felt unearned.
That is very kind of you. I am anticipating it with excitement as well. Do you work for the Gazette, then? They could have, perhaps should have, ended the conversation there, but this was… nice. She felt almost herself, talking with this near stranger.
Greek. He typed in the word with interest she couldn’t see, It sounds beautiful already. Trying to imagine the actual pronunciation was beyond his capacity though he had some measure of an idea.
The emoji danced and Lennox emitted a laugh of his own, a soft squeaking noise. Instantly his eyes lifted to see if anyone around had heard him, but fortune was with him and nobody was paying him any mind.
Lowering his eyes to the screen, he began to type again, Not Gazette. Independent. The idea to become employed at the paper was not one he’d considered until just now but it didn’t sound appealing.
The message made the phone seem brighter, she had gotten a great number of comments on her name since she started living predominantly on land, and anything along the lines of beautiful was unusual. Her and her sister had unusual names for land folk to say in this country. Back home and even when they visited Greece, it rolled off the tongue like a sweet song, but not here.
Hence, Percy.
Thank you, I am rather fond of it, most days. Her head tilted consideringly at the next line. An independent photographer. He must be independent in multiple levels then, and very opportunistic, in the best way. The image of the man was changing in her mind as they communicated, though any sort of profiling was unfortunate, never a technique she mastered even when she read books on it.
That was also a gift her sister got, something she wished she could resent her for. That sounds admirable, and challenging. I’m a bit envious. She wished she was more independent. But she had never been, livelihood, self image, and probably even her future marriage set to be determined by her family even if she put up a cursory struggle. The teacup was the unfortunate receiver of her sigh, both longing and ever frustrated as she watched the ripples across it before taking a sip.
Finally, she glanced back over at the screen and hit send, sure that no one would over analyze her message.
I’m sure. Names were silly things, humanity decided creatures needed to be titled lest they be forgotten. Lennox didn’t mind the odd nature of his name. It was what it was.
At mention of his role as an independent photographer, Lennox shrugged (a gesture he knew she couldn’t see) at his phone.
Freedom is what you make of it. Like most things, it varied from person to person. His idea of freedom was likely not the same as hers. Traveling, being freed from the shackles of a burden, being self-sufficient … there were so many realms freedom played a part in.
He was nobody that needed to encourage independence to a stranger. Whatever situation she was in, only she could get out of it or get past it.
It was her’s at least, her name. Strange and eye-catching in the worst ways, like her who was too tall and stood too straight when she should relax and slouched when she should be posing. Is yours a family name? For all she knew it was an alias, a nickname, or part of his own diced up. That was common with their types, when names had power. Her own family had a much longer name that would be near impossible to pronounce in English and had no meaning on land anyway.
Van der Zee was chosen partially to be cheeky, she was convinced.
She blinked at the odd response. Always one to take things literally before anything else, a habit she should really work on one of these days.
Do you mean it is more of a concept of the mind, rather than a definite, quantifiable state? How sad was it that her phone auto predicted the word quantifiable, she wondered, even as she hit send anyway. Long legs unfolded from her recliner to head into the kitchen, topping off her tea from the kettle, fuzzy slippers making scuffling noises on the hardwood floor as she walked and hummed a tune she couldn’t put her finger on under her breath.
Yes. It has been for as long as I know. His last name held prestige in certain places. While they were from the water, their time on land with mankind had been favorable, fortuitous, and they had done well for themselves. So well that Lennox could travel until the end of his days if he so chose without worrying about a dime he spent. He didn’t squander his money anymore, in fact he barely spent it unless the occasion was right, but that was due mostly to having to rethink the nature of his existence.
Concept of the mind, for sure. Perhaps it was a lame response, not the calculated reply she probably deserved but he was a bit more free in spirit.
Lennox rose from his perch. He wandered into the small coffee shop that he’d been debating entering for some time long enough to grab a small drip - not Leonard- was what the barista shouted and it was sheepishly that Len went to retrieve his beverage.
That solidified the idea that she had heard his name before, or at least his last name. Peisinoê tapped her chin as she watched the steam rising from the cup, mind recounting years of history and lineage she had been forced to sit through as a child. By child she meant, really, not that long ago. It distracted her, mind falling down a rabbit hole of old memories for long enough that she stumbled upon the answer on near accident -
Siren. I knew it sounded familiar! The cup was set back down almost too energetically, a few drops spilling out that did nothing to impact the victorious expression on her face as she gleefully tapped away on her phone.
It took her longer even, to respond properly to the second message, fighting the urge to ‘turtle’ as she had been told she sometimes had a tendency to do when made uncomfortable. The little dots were surely on his screen, making him think she was monologuing instead of typing one sentence excruciatingly slowly, I suppose we are what we are, at the end of the day. was woefully inadequate, a non-answer that still managed to sound defeatist. Status quo. But she sent it anyway, huffing in frustration at herself.
Lennox almost spat his coffee out. It wasn’t from the heat, he had blown at the liquid enough to cool it for a single sip. It was the word that blared across the screen identifying him. She had to be some sort of water creature herself but it felt awkward to insist she come forward.
Yes. Lennox typed back, managing to hold in his sip and finally swallow it. His eyes darted around finding the odd looks. A quick exit spared him the rest of those glances and he found a quiet place to sit with his coffee.
He peered down at those three dots within the tiny cloud, curious as to what might come about as a reply. Anxiety, but in a good way, fueled his curiosity. It was nice to be able to have a conversation again, be able to actually speak to someone without struggle.
I think that’s an accurate statement if you consider it in a positive way. Lennox offered a mermaid emoji to follow for good measure. I like to think that I’m ultimately in control of my life - freedom included. I’d welcome a fellow friend into that freedom, too.
I’m sorry that was Bugger. The sound of her sister sighing in her head was so real that she glanced about for a moment to see if she had entered the kitchen without a warning. Her twin did have that sort of habit. But no, it was just her subconscious scolding her.
Her fingers drummed on the counter, emotions rubber banding from one to the other rapidly as she scowled at herself, Rude. That was rude. I’m not very sociable. That’s my sister’s job. The pretty one, with pretty words to boot.
Peisinoê sighed. That happened often. Mind catching up to words a day late and a dollar short after she had said something tactless. ‘To boot’ also wasn’t a very proper or professional phrasing, was it? The emoji made her smile though, as well as the next message, I would like a friend, I don’t know how footloose and fancy free I am though. It was a warning more than anything, a chance for him to rescind his offer. Especially now that she was feeling maudlin.
At the apology his eyebrows lifted.
For what? He could see how someone else might’ve taken that forwardness as rudeness but he didn’t. He couldn’t hold that against her and to be fair he could’ve denied it. It was interesting that she figured it out based on very sparse information, a name mostly. He had his own inkling that perhaps she was of the water, too.
Your sister? Lennox was interested. Why do you think she’s prettier?
Her acceptance of his offer to be a friend was warming. He typed back quickly, I’d never ask you to be anything more than who you are. There was no way he was backing out of that opportunity.
The cabinets opened with a clatter as she went through her meticulously organized stock of snacks to pull out a ginger candy, popping it in her mouth with a relieved sigh. They had an equivalent back home, but she had grown rather fond of this. It eased the sudden tension in her stomach that was no one’s fault but her own, I’ve been told it’s rude to call out things you figure out about things before you are officially told.
It’s not that I am homely that sounded just shy of egotistical at least, but she also didn’t want to seem like she was fishing for compliments. Peisinoê always thought she was pretty enough until put next to her sister, who floated even on two legs and had kind eyes and a knowing smile. It’s just that Parthenope is...Well, she’s wonderful and I love her and she’s Ideal? A better daughter? A better girl?
Shorter She settled on, knowing it was woefully inadequate.
Her head tilted at the screen as his message flashed, and her expression turned from frustrated to somthing a little more hopeful, How can you make such a promise, when you don’t even know how I am? Not really. I could be something ghastly. Like a person who belches in public.
How can i fault you for knowing what you know? Sure, the element of surprise was vanquished and she had taken the metaphorical ball out of his court as far as privacy went, but it wasn’t like she was shouting it across the rooftops. That, and there were plenty more things left to discover about each other.
Parthenope is your sister? Lennox’s own brain was beginning to put two and two together. He wondered if Peisinoê knew that he was the one that had bought her sister that expensive blanket for her collection. He figured either she hadn’t pieced it together yet - which was fine - or it wasn’t relevant.
Lennox emitted a laugh at the confession that Parthenope was the shorter of them. I've met her, she’s very nice, very energetic. It’s good energy. He was being honest there and she had to give him the benefit of the doubt considering he’d get to formally know Percy.
But I can’t make a good conclusion without meeting you, too, to validate your theory. A little bit of smartness for her.
Our mother used to say it's not what you say but how you say it. Although both could be improved in her eldest, in her mind. As well as her ability or lack thereof to ‘read the room’.
Envy had never tarnished the love she held for her sister, nor the pride in her. So Lennox got some extra points in her book for complimenting her, Twin. If we're being precise. Which I prefer. Yes. If we were on that cartoon then she would be Heart. since no one was around to hear it, she gave a true, unstiffled laugh at the image.
That is fair. We still need to discuss your fee. The ginger was helping, as well as her own terrible jokes.
I can see that being a good saying. Something a mom would say. It definitely rang true, those bells of knowledge and wisdom. But it was also hard to interpret tone over a text message. Lennox tried not to read too much into them because of that reason.
Twin. Now that was interesting. Are you identical twins? if so, that would give him an idea as to what Percy looked like. If not he still would see for himself. He wanted to meet her either way. If she is the heart, what would that make you? He sent a brain emoji and also the lipstick emoji for good measure. Parthenope was beautiful, not just in appearance but for the way she carried herself.
He felt the same held true for Percy.
Fee? It was not an issue he had even considered as a factor before she mentioned it. You don’t...I mean, I don’t have to get anything. It’s okay. I don’t mind helping out.
It was a valuable lesson, now that she was older (so to speak) she appreciated it more. Especially now that she was dealing with patients instead of just her personal lab experiments. Indeed.
The copious use of emojis made her wonder if he was younger, or had simply adapted very well to modern American culture. Sirens had always intermingled more with humans than Mermaids had however, they didn’t have to go through the physical changes she had to in order to not be stared at. It certainly helped, or so she imagined at least. They put a smile on her face as she wandered back into the living room, plopping onto the couch as she responded, If we were identical, wouldn’t we be the same height?
She didn’t respond to his other question, because she wasn’t sure of her answer. Brain implied that her sister wasn’t brilliant as well in her own right, and Peisinoê’s intelligence was mostly applicable in just a few narrow fields. So it was debatable either way. Categorizing herself like she would a sample in a beaker was a private, life long goal. But you’ll be distracted and busy during the Gala! We can’t ask you for that on kindness alone. It’s simply not right.
Good point Lennox typed back. She was right, his question had been a little bit silly but then again his interaction with twins had been slight even after all of his years spent on the land.
The part about the fee was something he would have to think about. Why don’t you let me think about it? See what comes to mind after the work is done. That way it would be a bit more fair to both of them. He was not the type to take advantage of anyone so if the work was hard he would ask for something to suit the challenge and the capacity of work.
Lennox took a sip of the now cooled coffee, finding comfort in the gesture. Many of his kind avoided the land - there were so many small pleasures amongst men that he enjoyed too much to go back to the water - and he wasn’t exactly sure as to why. The land was safer, if he was being honest with himself.
She had regretted it for a moment, pointing out the differences in identical and fraternal twins. It seemed like he had taken it well, but it was hard to tell over text. Although if she was honest, she wouldn’t know if he was offended if he was in front of her. Facial expressions had always eluded her. I’m five minutes older, and I’ll never let her forget it!
Sharing that other bit seemed like an apology, opening up a tad. It wasn’t proper, especially because she wanted to know her sister’s impression of him. Though she didn’t understand how her sister’s unique gifts worked, but she trusted and respected them.
His answer made sense to her, even if she still had a fear of taking advantage or owing him. It seemed wrong, that a skill should simply be given away. But perhaps that was her family speaking through her, and their love of renown. Or just the fact that she viewed things like art and photography the same way most viewed the formulas scribbled in her notebooks - interesting, impressive even, but completely incomprehensible beyond that. That sounds reasonable. Will you still be able to dance though? My sister is light on her feet you know. It made her frown, typing that out, even as she hit send.
Haha! I wouldn’t either if I was in your shoes. Lennox was the youngest child and while he had a good relationship with his sister she was obviously the older sibling and she was the same way at times - Cress didn’t always let him forget he was the baby.
Dancing? He had not anticipated having to dance though it wasn’t necessarily out of the question. Is that a hint? Was she asking him to dance with her sister? That was an interesting theory.
I guess if there is dancing and I have time then sure. But only if you’ll dance with me? Why waste the opportunity. She could always say no and that was just fine with him.
I would be delighted to see you try and walk in my shoes. It slipped out, along with a giggle before she could refrain, but at least no one was around so she didn’t feel the need to cover her mouth. But the image of a man walking around in her heels, even a pretty Siren, was rather delightful.
A hint? Oh. She hadn’t thought of it that way. She scrolled back up to reread her message and well, it could kind of be seen that way. It was just that he had obviously met her and been as drawn in as most people were and - did he want it to be a hint?
Hmm. A finger tapped gently on the soft suede of the couch as she bit her bottom lip in thought, I’ll issue you a challenge Lennox. If you can find me in the crowd, then you’ll have your dance. But It might not be worth the possible bruises to your toes. The text blinked at her tauntingly for a long moment before she hit send, immediately tossing her phone to the other end of the sofa in embarrassment.
He looked at the screen of his phone with amusement. Walking in her shoes? He had enough trouble walking in his own shoes. His stride had become slower, cadence not as confident. I think only one of me is good. Two of me would be… well, I don’t know. Trouble.
Waiting for the next reply, those three pulsating dots seemed to mock him. He didn’t have to have to experience any embarrassment on either of their parts and he hoped she would feel up to telling him if he’d crossed any lines, even over text. It was hard to denote boundaries when you had screens between you sometimes.
But then the reply came and the challenge was issued. Challenge accepted. He would track her down. If she looked the way that Parthenope did, even bore a slight resemblance he would not have a lot of trouble finding her. Siren’s hunted - they had keen senses that didn’t always go appreciated. Even shrouded in masks for the Masquerade he felt confident in the challenge.
Who needs toes anyway, right?
When her phone vibrated again she waited before grabbing it, apprehensive and nervous about this uncharted social situation. Were they flirting? No, certainly not. Couldn't be. They hadn't even met, and he had met her sister first who was much better at everything social.
Unknowns made her nervous.
Then another, and another. Peisinoê’s curiosity won over her nervousness, and it was worth it. She hadn't planned on issuing a challenge but it came to her and now she wasn't regretting her moment of bravery. I look forward to it.
Another laugh, Not me, technically. Peisinoê started composing a message to her sister before pausing, deciding to chew on this a little bit instead of immediately sharing it with her closest confidante. I have some work to get done, good night Lennox. It was a pleasure speaking with you.
Her words sparked another snap of that odd laughter - a light-hearted squeak of approval that danced from his lips - and he smiled at the screen. Toes. They were such human things, weren’t they?
Good night. He debated adding anything else, twisting and turning such a mundane farewell over and over in his mind for a moment before adding, I’ll see you. He would. When he found her if not sooner.
With that, Lennox pocketed his phone, finished his brew, and enjoyed the remainder of the night.