-a t h o s-

Subject: Re: -a t h o s- Tue Apr 09, 2013 10:45 pm

Helena Penelope Alabaster

Helena stayed in the room for a while and watched the girl. She thought about what Sion had said, and for the millionth time she freaked out about what she had gotten herself into. She could walk out now. She could just leave out the back, not give two shits about the musketeers. She could even catch the Ragnarok and sell them out.

What would that get her?
Nothing.

Nope. Never. She's never going back there again. She doesn't care if she has to get the bullets out of a thousand wounds. She's been accepted here. And that means everything to her.

Helena went back out into the kitchen to find Alan walking. "Ohhhhh no you don't you idiot. Sit back down. I can make sandwiches, i'm very capable." Grabbing him by his uninjured elbow, she steered him into a chair. "Stay." She went to the counter and began pulling out the necessaries for sandwiches. "You know you'll heal faster if you don't injure yourself again. Just a fun fact."

Subject: Re: -a t h o s- Wed Apr 10, 2013 8:35 pm

Sion ------ DiBenetto
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As we were, so perfect, so happy...
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Sion gave a slight nod to their newest member as he passed her on the way back to the garage. She had already saved Alan's life. He could count on her to watch over him and hold down the fort for a little while. He made a mental reminder to formally initiate her later. The Musketeers weren't without their own traditions, ones that both he and Alan had both wholeheartedly chosen to take a part in when they stood where Helena stood now, right on the edge of a cliff overlooking what they would come to know as their own personal hell. He felt a bit of regret at the knowledge that he had led another person into the bloodbath, but he reminded himself that Helena had many chances to turn away. He had faith in her decision.

He stepped back into the dingy garage, crossing over to a slightly battered black car. It was Sion's personal ride, one that he never used as a Musketeer. He would always cash in favors to get old bikes and cars for Musketeer ops, but this was one of the last shreds of normalcy in his life. It wasn't something he took lightly.

He popped the trunk of the car, loading it an old desk and a few broken wooden chairs, along with a few large bottles of rum. There was no place in the world that could give this little girl a real 'burial'. But he'd give her the same honor he gave to countless other people that had died fighting for what she believed in. The Musketeer set Iris in the back seat. She might have been sleeping.

He left the garage and drove further and further, reaching the edge of the city and sneaking past the borders via an old tunnel system that was notoriously difficult to traverse. Soon, he found himself on the edge of the wasteland - the wide expanse where the ocean used to be.

No one went there anymore for any reason other than to die.

Sion broke the old desk and further shattered the chairs, using some of the pieces as a small platform to lay Iris's body on. He placed her hands folded across her chest, looking at her face one last time. She was a pretty little thing. Probably would have been beautiful if she could have just held the time that she had wanted so badly. If she had the life that she wanted so badly. Tearing his gaze away, he arranged the remaining wood over her, forming the beginnings of a funeral pyre.

It took him a while to get the entire thing straight, but he did so in reverent silence. Not once did the Musketeer look back to check if anyone had followed him to the site. His revolver remained, ignored, in the front seat of his car, along with his Schiavona. When the structure was complete, he drenched it in the alcohol he had brought with him, and set the whole thing aflame.

"Quiescere et dormire bene. (Rest well , and find peace.)" he began the funeral rite, the words finding a bitter sincerity on his tongue. "Quam pulchra solatium (Find solace in a more beautiful place.)."

((Latin's really roughly translated, I know. Wish I knew a closer translation.))

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They remember only our smiles. That's all they see.
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Subject: Re: -a t h o s- Wed Apr 10, 2013 9:33 pm

"Idiot?", Alan said after being helplessly tossed aside, "You could make a strong case for that. But, you're here. So you can't be any smarter can you?" He often talked about the intelligence of his career path with other musketeers. Joking about the foolishness of their choice to fight was fairly common. It boosted moral. Laughter made a rough lot in life easier to accept. But, it was the truth. Alan doubted if the other musketeers understood that. It was stupid to fight against wildly unfavorable odds for a world that was already dead. Still, it felt better to be stupid than to be nothing at all.

Helena must have seen Iris' body. She hid it well, but there was no way the sight of a dead child, soldier or not, didn't shake her. Maybe babysitting Alan was just a way of keeping her mind off of it. You've got to fix what you can.

"I've always liked fun facts. I have a ton of them. Hopefully I didn't bash too many out of my memory tonight." Alan paused for a moment, resting his head on his hand. A little girl had just passed away in the next room, but he kept on with his pointless commentary. He was never any good at mourning. Aside from losing very close friends, he typically carried on as usual when someone died, claiming it was better to celebrate life than to mourn death. Sion on the other hand, had perfected the process and was likely already on his way to the coast. Alan had the opportunity to tag along for funerals before, but he never went. He didn't like the ocean. There was nothing funny about dust.

"Helena, don't feel like you have to ignore it. If there's anything you want to say, you can say it. I guess that's one of the few perks that comes with this place."

Subject: Re: -a t h o s- Mon Apr 15, 2013 8:13 pm

Helena Penelope Alabaster

Helena handed Alan a sandwich, then started to make her own. "There's nothing idiotic fighting something you're bound to lose as long as you know it's right." She put the food stuff away then sat down to eat. "It's funny, my dad said that to me once, but he's pro-ragnarok. It's so weird, this war. Because if what my dad thinks is true, then both sides think they're bound to lose.
"And then that makes me think, you know, what does it mean to lose? Is there a black and white winner and loser? Because, honestly, I feel like in a war this long and this bad, no one can possibly win. There's too many casualties, too many loose ends.
"And then there's what's right, you know? What's right. Freedom, I guess. One for all and all for one. I don't know. I honestly don't know anymore. I thought that this would be right. This. Fighting against Ragnarok. It's more right than what my father fights for, that much I know. But it's not what I wanted. There's just as much blood and hurt and despair as there was in the inner circle. The only difference is the inner circle has grass and cleaner floors." Helena leaned against the counter and propped her head in her hand.
"I wonder if I'll ever dance again. Like, on a stage. I'm a ballerina, you know. Not professional or anything, but I was good. Marcus always says..." Helena faltered. He was Able, not Marcus. "I mean, Able always said I was like water when I danced. He was better than I was, though. I never got to see him dance alone, but whenever he danced with me I could feel all of his ferocity, you know? Everything he had to hold back during the day." Helena remembered how Able would lift her u, and she would feel so free and safe that it was like she was flying. "It was really beautiful."

Subject: Re: -a t h o s- Tue Apr 16, 2013 12:25 am

Alan sat quietly, listening with his sandwich in his lap. He was surprised to hear what Helena's father thought about the war. Ragnarok operated in a way that radiated confidence. To hear self doubt from the other side was refreshing. However, he found himself disagreeing with what she said about winning and losing. "Both sides would be bound to lose, true, that is if we hadn't all lost years ago. No winners or losers anymore. Just survivors."

"That, and 'All for one and one for all' is just a communist, feel-good platitude. Not the motto I would have chosen, but it unites people, I suppose. That's more important for us right now. That is the idea after all. We are equally violent, both sides of this, but we've been trying to take the war to the circle to dirty those floors. I know you're oppressed there too, luxuries or not. Once they see us fighting in the streets for their freedom, even the people who don't need to worry about where their next meal is coming form will join us. It's human nature, I think, to want to be the master of your own fate. We all kill, but here, we do something Ragnarok doesn't. We give people a choice."

The musketeer fell silent again when Helena spoke of dancing. He found that far more interesting than discussing ideology. So, she is an artist. And with that, Alan understood why Helena had walked into the bar that night. Only an artist would flee comfort due to principle. And, only a dancer could make a sandwich that elegantly. Marcus, or Able rather, sounded like a great man, the type of man one would regret referring to with the word 'was'. Alan decided not to ask about it. If the girl wanted to say more, she would. It was already easy to see what the man meant to her. If he was still alive, Helena wouldn't be where she was.

"It was really beautiful"... It really must have been. Alan didn't encounter much of what he would consider beautiful on a daily basis. The alleyways of the outer ring possessed their own form of beauty, but all too often it was tarnished by the suffering of others and the sound of Rag boots on concrete. He never saw beauty untainted, and that was probably why he was so determined to keep Helena around.

"Of course you'll dance again. In fact, now is a good a time as any!" he proclaimed, finally taking a bite of his sandwich, "Show me just a little of what you can do. Don't worry, I've never seen ballet before so I won't know if you screw up."

Subject: Re: -a t h o s- Thu Apr 25, 2013 12:09 am

Helena Penelope Alabaster

A small smile played on Helena's lips. "Usually music helps, but I suppose if music is in short supply I can arrange something." Helena reached down to her feet and undid the buckles on her shoes. Sliding them off, she walked around the bar to the open-ish area. Helena shrugged off her cardigan and rolled her shoulders. "I haven't danced in a few days, so I'm not stretched out at all."

She lifted her knees to her chest and her arms above her head, the normal stretches that she would do everyday, for at least a half an hour. Focusing on her balance, she brought one leg out at a ninety degree angle and pivoted so that she somewhat resembled a T. Her torso straightened horizontally and balanced her outstretched leg. Slowly, like a seesaw, she brought her torso closer to her stem leg and lifted her leg straight into the air. Now she resembled a 1.

As she stood in a normal position, focusing on all the muscles in her legs and arms, her back and her stomach, she brought her latest dance to memory. When she began, she remembered the last time she danced it. It was the night before they took Able. She remembered the white walls of the dance studio apartment, the windows opened and the breeze lifting curtains and feet. With every step, Helena felt like she was dancing on needles. Dancing would never be the same. In the middle of a turn Helena felt the weight of her foot go wrong. The subtle crack was enough for her to stop.

"ow," she murmured, "see? I'm rusty."

Subject: Re: -a t h o s- Mon Apr 29, 2013 7:01 pm

Alan hadn't really expected the girl to get up and dance on his request, so when she did with barely a moment's hesitation, he watched silently, trying not to miss any of her movements. Helena offered a few disclaimers but he ignored them. They meant nothing to his nonexistent knowledge of dance. It wasn't until she actually began that Alan realized she had only been stretching before. Helena showed Alan a sort of beauty most people in the outer ring would never know. Every part of the girl flowed like a stream before his hazy but attentive eyes. Able was right. She was beautiful, and Alan felt a touch of bitterness for being stuck to his chair, unable to clumsily join her and embarrass himself.

When he let his eyes slip onto Helena's face he expected a placid, focused look. In it's place he found an expression of pain. Alan thought he had convinced her to dance on an injury. He was about to ask Helena if she was hurting anywhere when she took an awkward step resulting in a soft crack. ah, shit..

"Rusty? You were amazing. I'm sorry. If I had known you were hurt I wouldn't have asked you to do that." Alan did not want to imagine the look on Sion's face if he came back to the bar to find both him and Helena unable to walk.

"Then again, I really did not expect you to throw your shoes off and start dancing like that, so I can't be too hard on myself. I think you're too spontaneous for your own good. You should have said you were hurting. Is it your ankle?"

Subject: Re: -a t h o s- Mon Apr 29, 2013 9:18 pm

Helena Penelope Alabaster

"Nah, it doesn't really hurt. I've experienced much worse. Once, my pointe shoes broke while I was in releve. My toes came down at weird angles and I broke three of them. Not fun times." She smiled, rotating her ankle slowly. "it's my own fault, really. Dancers that dance every day need to actually dance every day, and if they don't the longer they wait the worse they become. My body is so used to dancing all the time that one short break and it thought I was done for good," she shrugged. "That's what dedication gets you, I guess. Pins and needles."

"Does anyone ever play music here? It's really kind of eerie how the only loudness comes from gunfire."

Subject: Re: -a t h o s- Mon Apr 29, 2013 10:24 pm

"It is, isn't it?" Helena hadn't been around long enough to include Ragnarok boots and explosions. "It's a symphony out there some nights. I'd be surprised if you can't hear some of the IEDs that go off from the inner circle." Alan didn't really have to ask if she heard them. He had set many of them off himself. She definitely heard them.

Alan quickly turned his attention to the better part of Helena's question. "I know one song on the piano. Sion has a battery powered keyboard around here somewhere. He's got a guitar as well. That's his favorite of course. He's more than just the server here. He's got talent, plays for us every couple of nights or so. You should ask him to play when gets back." Thankfully, Sion had a bar to run and could always be expected back at a certain time when he decided to go missing.

"When the guy plays, it's like you're finally home. That's the best way I can describe it. It makes you feel like you're in the right place."

Subject: Re: -a t h o s- Fri May 03, 2013 9:40 pm

Helena Penelope Alabaster

"I don't consider warfare anything close to a symphony." She sat into a chair close to the one Alan had been in. "You know, I could really use a drink. I think I've done more tonight than I have in my entire life. That's worth something strong, right? When I was young my father used to let me taste his champagne. He said he did it so I wouldn't like the taste from a young age, but I've always had a bitter tongue. To me it tasted like apples." Sighing, she got up and approached the counter. Leaning over to check the alcohol that Sion had in storage, she found a bottle of white wine. "It's no champagne, but is it okay if we drink this?" she held it up for Alan to see. Smoothing the dust off the label with her palm, Helena inspected the year. "Not a bad vintage, actually. I'm surprised Sion could get his hands on this."

Subject: Re: -a t h o s- Sun May 05, 2013 5:18 pm

Helena's comment left Alan feeling insulted, as if she was dismissing him as primitive, below her. He agreed with her. It was not a symphony. He had meant it sarcastically, but it apparently hadn't come out that way. For a moment, Alan found himself disliking Helena for pointing out the barbarism of his work, even if it was unintentional. He felt contempt for her because she was correct, and he knew it. And, as he considered it, that moment of anger faded and went out.

But what if it's you are wrong? It was a healthy thing to ask himself from time to time.

"I don't think I've seen that one before.", Alan said, looking at a label that meant little to him but clearly held some significance to the girl. "Believe me. You would be surprised by a lot of things that guy brings home."

Normally, Alan would be a little weary of taking from Sion's collection without his permission, but Helena was not someonel to refuse a drink with. "I doubt he would mind. I cant recall him ever having a special affection for wine, definitely not white." He couldn't think of one person he knew that did. "Either way, you're right. I think you've earned it."

Alan looked down at the girl's work again. Still unobstructed by a shirt, (it was no place for formalities) her sewing and setting and improvised bio-mechanical guesswork was in full view. He could have looked worse. And chicks dig scars, right

He looked back up at Helena, hiding his gratitude and happy to be sharing his time with someone. "But, if you try to propose a toast, I will try my best to crawl over there and hurt you."

Subject: Re: -a t h o s- Wed May 08, 2013 8:58 pm

Helena Penelope Alabaster

Helena gave a wry smile. "If I tried to propose a toast I would probably hurt myself." She fished two glasses out from under the counter and uncorked the wine. As she sniffed the cork to get a sense of the wine, she realized she probably looked more than a bit pretentious. She rolled her eyes, mainly at herself. "Sorry. Out of habit." Pouring the wine into the two glasses, she carried them and the bottle over to the small table where Alan was sitting.

She set his down in front of him, but hesitated with her hand on the top of the glass. "Should you even be drinking? You've just had surgery. That's not exactly the best state to have wine." She joked, but eventually relented. Hell, she probably shouldn't be drinking either. Taking her hand off Alan's glass, she lifted hers to her lips.

She tried to be inconspicuous as she swirled and the wine and breathed in the scent.

Whatever, she grew up fancy, okay?

As she took a sip, Helena relaxed. This was familiar, and familiar was welcome.

Subject: Re: -a t h o s- Thu May 09, 2013 6:37 pm

"It's unkind to tease someone in pain, especially with alcohol.", Alan said with a smile before drinking the wine. He enjoyed it only for the sake of breaking routine. White wine was a nice change of pace. He wasn't sure what to make of Helena's little ritual as she seemed to take in every aspect of the liquid. "Did your father teach you that as well? I bet the man was a real connoisseur."

By the time Helena had sipped her glass, Alan's was already empty. It wasn't because he felt so depreciated by his injuries that he wanted to drink. It was only a force of habit. He wasn't used to this kind of leisure. Alan had time now and no idea what to do with it. There was rarely a chance for sit down dinners in his profession, or anywhere in the outer ring. Yet, here they were, sipping wine like carefree aristocrats. Helena's lifestyle was following her around, and Alan wasn't sure how to feel about being caught in it's wake.

"So Helena", Alan began, curiously twirling the last drops of wine in his glass in a tight circle, "be honest with me. You're glad I got shot, aren't you."

Subject: Re: -a t h o s- Thu May 09, 2013 9:54 pm

Helena Penelope Alabaster

If there was a record player, it would have scratched.

"You have honestly got to be shitting me. Please. Please tell me you're shitting me because I swear to God if you're not I'll probably slap you across the face. You think I'm happy you got shot? What the fuck do you think I am? Do you think that everyone that comes from the inner circle is just some privileged snot that prays for the day they get to be scared shitless playing 'hero'? What the fuck is that even supposed to mean, 'aren't you glad I got shot?'" she mocked his voice then, it wasn't her best impression, but hey, she was mad.

"No I'm not fucking glad you got shot you asshole, what the hell is wrong with you?" She wanted to hit him. But Jesus Christ he had injuries everywhere.

"I'd hit you right now, but contrary to popular belief I actually have a soul." Lifting the wine glass to her lips, she drained it. She considered getting up and putting the wine away, but honestly she wouldn't know where to go, the only other room she'd been in was the one where the girl died, and she didn't exactly want to sit in there like an idiot.

And I mean, she wanted to drink. So. She poured herself another glass.

"Jesus, Alan."

Subject: Re: -a t h o s- Sat May 11, 2013 10:57 pm

Alan watched her as she yelled at him. He didn't say a word. He only watched and listened. He saw the stress in her lips as she threw each word at him at full force, and her cool blue eyes were trying their best to burn a hole right through him. He tried not to smile when she mocked his voice. Alan was amused, but he had no patronizing thoughts about the girl. He was more intrigued than anything else. He didn't anticipate that level of emotion. He hadn't anticipated anything Helena had done.

Her eyes darted about the room for a moment, like they were looking for a way out. She stayed.

Despite the risk of being punched in his relatively unscathed face, Alan looked at her as gently as he could, and began to explain himself. "But, aren't you?", he spoke quickly to prevent Helena from throwing her wine in his face, "not because you don't have a soul. Of course you have one. Hell, I can almost see it... It's because you have one. I know you wouldn't wish for anyone to get hurt like that, but aren't you glad I did? Aren't you proud of what you did to help me? And aren't you glad you're not alone in some stranger's place anymore? In one way or another, you're a little thankful for this", Alan said, showing her the bullet she had pulled out of his arm, "I think I am. I think this could be good for me. Some time away from the fighting, I mean."

"I'm glad I was shot. Because now I'm here, sharing some wine with you, whoever you are. I still don't really know, but I'm excited to find out." Alan looked down at the deformed piece of lead in his had. It had shattered his arm and his plans. He could make new ones now. He didn't waste time thinking about what might happen to those.

"This may be a little harder to believe, but I have a soul too."

Subject: Re: -a t h o s- Mon May 13, 2013 7:35 pm

Sion ------ DiBenetto
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As we were, so perfect, so happy...
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When Sion stepped back into the bar, tension hung in the air like a heavy smog. Alan was staring at Helena in the silence while Helena stood, seething, clutching a glass of..

...son of a bitch, that's the good wine.

He sighed and crossed between the two, settling down on a stool next to the counter. He sighed heavily, glancing wearily from one musketeer to the other. There had obviously been an exchange of words, and Sion could tell that it had hit Helena harder than it had hit Alan. The wine bottle was half-emptied, the soft light shimmering off its glass surface. He wondered what could have happened in the short while it took him to bury the body and pay his respects. It was strange. The two seemed to be getting along so well when he had left the bar.

"Remind me not to leave you guys alone again," the musketeer mused, lifting another cigarette to his lips and lighting it. He exhaled, but found that even the nicotine fix couldn't calm his nerves. He was hurting, inside and out, and wasn't really in the mood to have to deal with an argument between an initiate and his own partner.

"Helena," Sion cut in, "We're taking you out for your initiation fist thing in the morning. You haven't been formally inducted, and you do deserve that much, even after the mess we've made of today."

He got to his feet, still clutching the cigarette for any sort of comfort it could bring. "I don't know what happened while I was gone, but I suggest both of you stow it and get some rest for tonight."

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They remember only our smiles. That's all they see.
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Subject: Re: -a t h o s- Mon May 13, 2013 7:48 pm

((Check the newly added section V of this thread's intro post for information on the RP's current episode))

Subject: Re: -a t h o s- Fri May 24, 2013 2:58 pm

Helena Penelope Alabaster

Helena didn't exactly know how to respond. Part of her wanted to hit him, part of her wanted to kiss him, and then the other part wanted her to drink. She went with the latter.

She sipped her wine and remained silent, and tried not to jump out of her skin when Sion came through the door. He mentioned her initiation, which sounded frightening and intriguing at the same time. Finishing her glass, she stood up and stretched. "As long as I don't have to kill anyone, I should be just fine." She smirked to Sion, then brought her glass to the sink and the bottle back to the counter.

"Rest does sound excellent. But, where exactly am I staying?" Helena realized this was a bar. Not a hotel. Bedrooms, if any, were probably spare. "I can always just crash in the back room or something."

Subject: Re: -a t h o s- Fri May 24, 2013 9:04 pm

"I still can't sleep for a little while, and I'm not getting up from this spot, so you can have my room. No, no, It's not a negotiation. Take it. It should be pretty tidy if my memory is right. And don't worry. It's not rigged to explode or anything." Alan offered up his room partly because he wanted to be useful and partly because he was in Helena's debt, but mostly because he liked the idea of her being there. He was so accustomed to hiding himself from the other side of the world that the idea of letting one of them into his center of operations was just interesting. Of course she wouldn't be "one of them" for much longer. Her initiation was tomorrow. It was being rushed a bit more than usual, but Alan had said it himself. She belonged there.

A more tangible reason for Helena's speedy recruitment was the musketeer's need for people behind the front lines. Everyone wanted to have the glory of a soldier. Few people were willing or qualified for other jobs. Medical staff, writers, people who did well with people. Public opinion was what they were really fighting for. One look at her is all it would take for the senior members to use her for PR. Alan hoped she would be spared from that sort of work, but he couldn't deny that she had a face that could do their image a lot of good.

"Sion. It's good to see you back. You can handle showing her the room right? Don't worry, I'll be ready for tomorrow", Alan gestured to his injured knee, "As ready as I can be, at least."