:interaction - Blog Posts

Arie knew that was coming but hey, she was nothing if not prepared. "I'm from a tourist trap in Greece, though I've been traveling for a few years. I guess I found something I enjoy in the strange sense of familiarity if I decided to stay here, kourasménos ánthropos." What that was, Arie hadn't decided yet. Even if this was it, this was the last stop and she truly was abandoned here, she couldn't pinpoint the exact excuse that wasn't an excuse at all. "Spoken from experience? I don't remember much these days about home, but I think I enjoyed the possibility of never seeing someone again much less having all of my secrets known to everyone and their mother." This conversation was... normal? and erratic. "It helps that I see code in everything, even veterinarian medicine. There's a code in us." And the amount of possibilities it would take for two people to meet in a place like this. The probability of them liking each other enough to continue a conversation? Far more larger. "I can do tthat. I will also tell you, I live in those shitty apartments but I spoil Ziggy like crazy. I think he eats better than I do, actually. But if you ever want to check it out and approve it, you can. I don't mind -- I'll see if I can get a day off and make a day out of it if Ziggy wants to."

Matevos grinned, then frowned. He didn’t comment on it however, as much as he wanted to. He was certain he was going to coax her into doing it, and then he was going to regret it afterwards. Though the act sounded very nice. He nodded. “Where are you from?” he asked. “It is definitely a change, but… you know, they might know each other, but nobody really knows each other. That’s kind of the dangerous thing about small towns, everyone knows something about someone else they’d like to judge about.” He smiled, noting the pride in her voice, very much enjoying how she seemed to be enjoying what she was doing. He understood that, it was why he’d never give up his own job as a vet, even though it was definitely made more difficult by his life in crime. “Depends on who does it,” he suggested. “Your job also sounds like fun, but you’d probably have more fun doing it.” But, his job was definitely a lot of fun, though perhaps mostly after hours when he could cuddle the dogs and take them on walks. Not so much the diagnosing of animals, unless if it was things that could be easily healed. “Well, you can always bring Ziggy in and see if he takes to any of the cats, I wouldn’t really let these poor creatures stay over at anyone’s before meeting their present company… you know, kids, animals, other pets. I’ve had too many regrets over the years.”

"You're still important." Arie pointed out. Diners worked a lot like computers, as did any business and their employees. She saw it as coding rather than the human race. Weird? Mabe. It helped, a little, but it was just a reminder to pay better close attention to her surroundings. She had a habit of scrolling the dark web and chatting with a penpal of sorts once she got into it. The world could've literally ended, and in some ways it had, with the recent death effecting everyone around her in a way that couldn't get to her the same way. If it had been someone else, someone close to her whether she'd admit it, she'd be a fucking mess right now... but either way, she'd still be here in this moment. She just needed to unwind regardless. "It's a pleasure to meet you officially Suraj. Better circumstances too, I'm sure." Because this wasn't for some business gain but rather personal and Arie needed personal.

Arie laughed at their joke, facial features warming with amusement. "Everyone has moves. We just need to find yours." Maybe a stretch but as she took their hand and lead them to the dance floor, she locked eyes with a familiar figure and called out to her. "Show me what you got Lacey." For a moment she let go of their hand and joined the woman, giving them a show. "Sometimes it's in the hips like this."

“Oh uhm, no worries!” Suraj cut in right away. It was almost normal to be ignored when they were working, whether they were serving or washing dishes. “I uhm, I mostly wash dishes anyway, so you probably wouldn’t have seen me anyway,” they added quickly. That and the fact that Suraj was great at being unnoticed. “Nice to meet you, Arie,” they said quickly, to make sure they wouldn’t forget the name. “I am certain you aren’t,” they added. “And else you can blame it on the music being too loud,” they suggested. A joke that had been used on them twice already in different circumstances, and one they liked. They blushed offer, having to consider it for a moment before letting out a laugh. “Sure,” they said. “Though let's keep calling them moves and not good moves because I am a very bad dancer.” They held out a hand to her, given how crowded the dancefloor was, attempting a self assured smile. Rare moments of confidence had to be taken advantage of, and the fact that they’d seen her about a dozen times now, made it much easier. They’d rely on the safety of the crowd.

She preferred the comfort of hiding behind a computer for two reasons, one of which might be easier for a trained eye to pick up on; 1. when it was discovered she had a skillset and quickness of computers, the Dead Idols spoke less and less to her face to face. They didn't need to be so heavy handed with her as they would someone who'd be trained in hands on tactile training such as fighting or toxicology. 2. being awkward meant that it weeded out certain people. Could you tolerate awkwardness? Yeah? Slide in, buckle down, and wait out the ride in which the end meant Arie actually gave a shit about someone. She wasn't sure about Sera persay and how the other felt, but Arie? Arie cared for the the little family so much that even if she couldn't say it, she showed it. Her skills with Dusty's allowed her to keep the station tightly locked down and at the end of the day, she was more than happy to play with little Crash and keep him entertained while they worked. In fact, anyone at the station was. If she didn't know this was a mission she was waiting for, she'd almost be glad to stay here forever. A side effect of six months of silence on the Dead Idol's end but they knew that, didn't they? They had to know that. Wasn't that the reason their mirroirs could eventually blend in so well?

Arie neared closer, seeing the man struggle. A small frown graced her lips as she saw him struggling. If anything, it was care that told her Dustin needed sleep, not more coffee. "I'd say yes but I think Sera might kick my ass if I take you on a late night adventure that voids you from sleep. In again, why not?" You could call it machoism if you wanted but it was something else. A joke, maybe. She admired his dedication to the station but she also wanted to reassure him that it would still be standing when they'd get back. Closing the distance between them now, she took the coffee pot from him and put it back on the burner. Flicking the machine off, she turned back, "I think I can handle that. No fire, got it." At the mention of Crash's godmother, Arie gave a little laugh. "I think you should warn her, not me. I'm pretty sure Boyd has a crush." Boyd, some normally faceless what.... janitor? Mic man? Sometimes it depended on the day. "No fires and definitely no alarming godmom, I promise."

The night was still, tranquil save for the pattering against the sills of the station's windows, and the tower above the building echoing an eerie howl of the plaintive winds as if it were a woeful virago. Dustin had always been a diligent pupil, at the expense of his own health, and it persisted into the summertime without the diluting of coursework — instead, he was battened by the self-imposed concerns of the time the pair would be spending away in the first half of August before classes resumed. His head craned aside when he heard the shuffling of feet entering the break room, his alertness of his surroundings making up for the shortcomings of Sera's ever-dwindling hearing ( a facet of which, he still did fret. ) He smiled warmly at Aretha, partial instinct thereby overridden out of compassion for his employee. As awkward as she seemed, at times, the empath had kept a studious eye on her — sometimes, it felt like an armor he was forced to don. The frigidity of his thoughts, especially given the news of Willow's demise, had an engine purring with chariness for his surroundings. However, he'd had a fluttering in his chest from the moment he showed the woman the reason for the Graves-Seongs' paucity of promptness to her application. Anyone who was so privy to a recluse who melted at the sight of Tyche Jungsoo was staunch, in his book ( and yes, he did keep track, hyperthymesia recording it for him. )

"Rita," he'd coined his own nickname — partially on account of correcting a mishap of Sera becoming lost in translation at first meeting, "I can come with if you can drive." A joke hung in the void that he couldn't, failing to bloom as he fumbled to grip the handle of the coffee pot with dystonic fingers. His palm pressed firmly against it, thumb gripping the top of the handle, whilst his recoiled digits were in rigor mortis against his palm, tendons of his wrist visibly tensing as he kept it outstretched long enough to pour out the mug in his other palm. Carefully balanced on the partially ( but significantly less ) stiff fingers of his opposite hand, he held it out to the engineer. His amblyopic eye shook nervously as his strength dwindled, mustering enough to empty the pot into a second mug. "I thought I'll stay and record stuff, get a headstart for the next couple weeks... Cohosts can take the live stuff, just —" A yawn intercepted, blearily sticking his hand into a hole of his distressed Gengar sweater to rub against his shoulder blade. "Don't let anybody burn down the studio. Dios mio." Sheepish when he splashed the coffee over the mug a bit, hands obstinately refusing to cooperate in full, he turned to face her. "Think you can handle it, kid?" Pausing, the two-toned metalhead pouted his lip, myriad of piercings protruding, and nodded vaguely down the hill outside. A branch was thumping against the pane. "I'm, uh, gonna have Crash's godmother stay while we're out. So don't be alarmed."

She gave a small but mischievous smile. "I wasn't suggesting YOU, but I hear you." Chances are if she was having a bad day, you'd probably be able to convince her to smash someone's windows out. She'd be sneakier about it though -- as sneaky as someone who needed to stay hidden could be, anyway. "Kind of both? I'm not used to small towns where everybody knows everybody. It's definitely a change for me." Arie admitted, leaning back in her seat to point at the brilliant idea. "Me either, but I'll find someone. Just watch. It needs to happen." Hell, maybe she'd fund it. Just because she lived in a sketchy apartment didn't mean she didn't have money. Whether through the station, the Dead Idol or side gigs on the internet ... Mum's the word. "I keep the show going and up to date, computer and technical wise. Some days I set up the live broadcasts. Most nights, I'm making sure quality issues aren't just a cord issue or a software issue." she admitted, voice somewhat filled with pride. "I'm sure your job is much more fun though." As for her wants in an animal, she gave a small shrug. "I get that. I like cats because sometimes I'm not home for too long and I don't have to take them out every few hours for a walk. It seems I have less time these days." But to the question of the matter, she wasn't entirely sure. "Maybe. I have a tuxedo named Ziggy and I don't know, think maybe he needs a buddy but I also know some cats just don't mix well."

Matevos - who did not not enjoy violence - really had to think about the offer. Smashing things did sound like a fun thing to do, and he could use something to get his mind off of things, but then there was the fact that vandalism was against the law and he’d only just come out of police custody. “Mentally, I’d say, it definitely is the type of situation where I’d gladly take you up on that offer. But I promised to stay out of trouble, and I think smashing someone’s car windows is the exact opposite of that.” He looked thoughtful at the other when the ‘vaguely familiar’ was uttered, and then grinned. “You mean you think you know them? Or you think you know someone like them?” he asked, because he was always a little curious when people spoke in vague terms. Not just when they used the word ‘vaguely’. “Someone should, I would make it into a comic… sadly I don’t know how to draw.” Or write stories, or even how to come up with them. Though he would love to make a story about superhero dogs, had that been done already? “Aah engineer,” he said, as if he knew exactly what that meant, though confusion was clear on his face. “What does a broadcast engineer do?” He knew Dusty and Sera, though not as intimately as perhaps he should in a small town like this. “A few yes, I keep mostly dogs, since cats tend to find a home much quicker. People have different expectations for dogs. Are you looking for a cat?” 

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck ! They were going to blame this on her if it weren't some fucked up way of telling her what she wouldn't admit. There wasn't some small possibility in the void of existence that told her this was a good thing, much less unplanned thing. "I'm not much of a joker these days," came in a serious voice, which is more or less of a lie. There were only some she was close to in a town like this, listed under her broadcast engineering job as Aretha ... something. Hatzi would've been too on the nose. It didn't matter. They weren't names she grew attached to much less cared for. Hashtag, although given by the Dead Idol, was her chosen nickname. In some ways, it was a safety blanket at the end of the day. She liked Rita though, given to her by her boss. Meow, by Ziggy, that sounded peculiarly like MOM. "You know my name." Her voice is soft. Distant almost. As if she's searching memories, no matter how pretensive it was. "You're ---... You're important to me, right?" Or rather were, once upon a time, as if she hadn't suddenly thought to pretend I DON'T REMEMBER YOU. What else could she do?

"Did we know each other before the Daniels adopted me?" Random name, but hey, she couldn't very well call herself Aretha Hatzi. Someone might notice and not keep the assumption that the woman wasn't missing or declared dead after being missing for so long. "Or the Scaredy Cat? It was probably the Scaredy Cat."

ARISSA HAD FINALLY GOTTEN BACK INTO THE FULL swing of her content creation, now that some time had passed after the discovery of the missing girl's body. The hot topic of the internet seemed to pass quickly, and it didn't take long for most people, besides the ones that lived in the small town to move onto to something else grabbing their attention. Eyes were on her phone, scanning the analytics of her most recently posted video, as she brought the opening to her togo cup of caramel latte, trying not to feel any true disappointment in the lower than usual numbers. After taking a break like she had, it should have only been expected. Brown eyes flickered up from the screen momentarily to find a table she could take a seat at while finishing her beverage, gaze landing on a sight that made the food critic do a double take. The age progression images made from her missing sister were something Arissa had spent plenty of time memorizing throughout the years, even if by now she was pretty sure she was the only one in her family even taking note of the more recent ones, so much so that they started to feel like a person she would eventually see in real life. There was some kind of statistic floating around about each person in the world had a certain number of people in the world that looked similar to them. And there was also the fact that age progression wasn't a perfect science. But neither of those two thoughts were at the top of her mind as she stared at the familiar face that she was already convinced was the sister she had once been so close to. Even her voice didn't sound too different, just matured. "Is that a joke?" Arissa had always been hopeful when it came to the topic of her sister, foolishly so she had even been told once or twice, to still hold on so tightly after all these years. Maybe that was why she had this idea that the recognition of each other could be so simple. And accurate. "Aretha, it's me. I can't believe this."

Emotions weren't something she was taught per say but rather something she was taught could drive someone's choices. While the powers that be didn't tell her not to feel, she knew better than to admit she had any feelings out loud. Maybe she was stubborn, one way or another, imbedded in her stolen DNA. It would be better for all involved if she didn't feel anything for them in the end -- and yet there she was with a sort of pink in her cheeks that might admit embarrassment for being so into what she was doing that she hadn't noticed past the sense of familiarity. "I'm sorry that I was so focused on my work that I couldn't see you," which seemed genuine and if not key in the fact that she was flirting with them. "I'm Arie and I promise I'm not as rude as I seem." and despite the fact that she had, had a few shoots of Tequila already, she wasn't drunk. Warm maybe but one of the perks of being a mirroir was that she wasn't like most people. "Care to dance, Suraj? I bet you've got a few moves in you."

Suraj had a way of spending their weekend nights in clubs. It wasn’t because they had any type of dancing ability, or that they loved alcohol. Both were very untrue. They didn’t drink, they danced but only when they were pulled onto the dancefloor. It was mostly that they could disappear into the crowds, feel safe for a moment among the many sweating bodies. They were an introvert, but that didn’t matter when they could barely hear anyone anyway. And that was the best thing about going to the club, there was rarely much talking involved. They didn’t even tense up when someone leaned closer to them. “Oh uhm… you spend late nights at the diner where I work,” they said in response, smiling, because Suraj’s main point of contact was their service job. They’d seen her typing away on her laptop some nights, and they’d always wondered about what she did. But she’d seemed so invested that they hadn’t dared to ask, but it was inspiring. They always felt like they made much more progress on their film script if they’d spend the evening watching her work. "I'm Suraj," they introduced themselves.

She'd suppose that would be true ... if not for the fact that she knew that one way or another, someone could escape their tragic lives. Hashtag wasn't sure whether or not Aretha Hatzi ever actually escaped her existence in Greece but if she hadn't wanted to be found, no one would know, hence the missing aspect of the woman's life and her curse of sharing her face. There also came a possibility that maybe she hadn't escaped anything. You needed DNA to make a mirroir, right? The thought lingered in her mind though she never quite did anything with it. Why would she? This was her life. The original Aretha Hatzi's life was her own, even if it was over ... but sharing the same face meant that sometimes, she shared the same name. "Shame. There's a whole big world out there," Outside of Anchorage, Alaska. She wouldn't argue. There was a reason he thought such a thing. "I've been here for maybe six months, seven tops. I don't get out much." Between work, her apartment, the dinky diner she frequented often when she wasn't being dragged to Dusty and Sera's for dinner, or doing the same to some poor unlucky soul at her place. "I'm Arie, or Aretha if I don't like you." She laughed and while it sounded humored, she felt empty, but she could pretend. She had to. What were the odds she'd meet someone who knew Aretha once upon a time, much less MORE than one.

Staying here might just be, well, a dumb fuckin' thing to do. Grim smile besmirching his features, the mirthless laughter that escaped coincided the pinch of his digits dragging the joint away from his lips. Smoke dispelled through his nose in a whorl of dragon's breath, the sound of a horn culling the silence of the wharf below remained to send chills running down his spine. Of his peripheral, the shifting figure appeared as those silhouettes that would dance about or peer into his line of vision, and only when he turned his head, did he ascertain they were truly standing there. The face was vaguely wonted, but that could be from anywhere: Anchorage was not so small that everyone knew everyone, and he'd been here-and-there for so much of his life, faces were a phantom grasp on cognition. "Mm, not all of us got that choice," he confessed, lackadaisical complacency to his own fate. It was harder now to morph into oblivion and become a blip on the radar with seven kids in tow. Cyrek couldn't uproot them like his siblings, forsake them to a childhood filled with uncertainty more than it was, as it stood. Flicking ash from the end of it, squandered into the dewy grass, he nodded to her. "You from here? Feels like I've seen you 'round." Wouldn't be a surprise — the pub saw a wide range of people, milling in and out.

"Oh," came out softly, lips pursing in a sort of thoughtful way. "is it a kind of smash the windows out of someone's car or worse? Because let me know, I got a bat." Was she kidding? Maybe, maybe not. The good thing was the fact that she wasn't judging, or maybe it was weird that she wasn't. Who knows? Social situations weren't her favorite thing. She preferred the company of a computer to most; besides the lucky few she actually liked. "You are totally right about that. I just can't get over the fact that people are VAGUELY familiar to me." That's not the entire accurate explanation as to why certain people seemed to vibrate at certain wavelengths in her vision but she didn't explain it. "Doom Woe sounds pretty badass if you ask me. Someone should get on that." What would his superpower be? In her luck, it would just be a slightly mysteriously annoying figure, but wouldn't it be fun if a TV show could warp to the individual viewer? "You wouldn't know my voice. I'm the broadcast engineer so I'm behind the scenes, just like I like it. Dusty and Sera needed someone to step in when little Crash was born, so when they let me, I keep things running smoothly." Learning that he was a vet sparked something in her, so she curiously asked, "You're a vet huh? Got any cats needing a home by chance?" Sure, there were shelters, but Arie also knew some vets kept pets who needed medical help with them while looking for homes, if possible.

“Ooh, well, this is a special situation,” Matevos said, though he’d be lying if he said it was the first time. He’d had special situations before. “A friend of mine is in a very terrible predicament and I can’t do anything to help her,” he said, with a sigh. “Anchorage you mean?” He asked, a tired grin replacing his worried expression. “You wouldn’t be wrong, but such a fun place as well.” He looked confused at the response and shook his head. “Doom Woe? Is that a tv character or something?” He lay the British accent on thick, just to make sure he wasn’t missing something as a Brit. “Matevos, though Doom would be a much cooler name. What do you do at the radio station? Presentor? Maybe I should know your voice, we have the radio on constantly in the waiting room of my practice. I’m a vet.”