Difference between revisions of "Log:Words Words Words"

12 April, 2017

Drinking in the back room of Cyclone. The dangers of sleeping outside. Can goylomim get drunk? The attitudes of tattoos.

MT03

It's evening in the back room of Cyclone, and Gisa is settled on the couch. She has her long coat folded neatly on the arm, and is leaning against it as if it's a pillow; in her left hand and propped on the end of that same couch arm is a half-full glass of red wine. One ankle's propped on the opposite knee, forming a platform on which she can rest her book -- a battered volume that's clearly well-loved and quite old, with post-its sticking out of various pages and notations in the margins. Things underlined. That sort of thing. Her right hand balances the book, holds a pen, turns pages right to left occasionally, and sometimes makes a little note in a margin or underlines something. Thoughtful Golem Face. The shin on her forehead glows with a gentle, steady light.

Max had heard something about the back room at the bar, something enough that she knew she'd be welcome to snoop around back there. Probably! So, after getting herself two drinks, one for each hand to carry, she makes her way into the back. She's pleasantly surprised to see a familiar face already back there and she smiles warmly at the golem. "Hey Gisa! How's it going?" she asks, trying not to be /too/ loud to interrupt her read. Moving over to the table, the mortal sets her drinks down before settling into an empty seat. As per usual, she's dressed casually - an unbuttoned dark blue and white flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbow, a black shirt underneath, denim jeans, and boots. Her hair is worn down in loose curls with a single braid near her temple.

There's Jessie. The door swings open and she pauses for a second as the light illuminates her form. SHe's found herself a black dress to wear that leaves her back and shoulders exposed, the tattoos there currently sitting as they form innocuous pictures. Greek Myths, apparently. Long strides carry the blonde toward the bar, blue eyes thoughtful as they study her surroundings. "Hello, Max," the woman calls in a soft mezzo-soprano voice. "And... Hello to you as well." Gisa gets a brief wave. Jessie's path continues toward the bar for the moment. She leans over a couple stools, hands on the edge of the counter, and calls out an order.

"Max," greets Gisa, raising her glass toward the known quantity in greeting. "Shalom, my friend." Her voice is a low rumble, like the distant threat of a rockslide or earthquake, and she moves with deliberateness. Continents take notes from Gisa as to how carefully to move or advance. She hasn't any eyes at all, only eyepits with flickering flames in them, and they spark briefly at the arrival of her fellow Custodian. Then there's Jesse, and Gisa's eyeflames wink out, then back on again, twice. "Shalom," to the unknown quantity. She takes a swallow of her wine, the glass clinking against her ceramic lips.

Max takes a few sips from her drink before she addresses either of the other women. There's a satisfied smile that tugs at the edges of her lips, enjoying the choice she had made for her beverages. Then she glances first over toward Jessie, lifting a hand to wave at her with a friendly expression. "Hey! Sorry we didn't get around to doing that thing. I'm sure there will be a next time," she says, the grin on her lips turning mischeivous for a moment. Shifting her attention over to Gisa, she smiles more warmly. "Is it okay if I say shalom in greeting to you too? I know people get all up in arms about that sort of stuff sometimes," she wonders curiously. There's a pause before she says, "Oh! Gisa, this is Jessie. Jessie, Gisa." If either want to give more of an introduction than that, they're more than welcome to as Max sips at her drink again.

"Always more time to do more things," Jessie agrees now that she has retrieved a coca-cola from the fridge. "Disappointment is a part of life. We'll manage. How have you been, aside from missing a chance to get roaringdrunk with me? She opens it up to the tune of a carbonated hiss and takesa deep breath. The tattoos on her back write out in flowing script the words, "Aleikhem shalom". She takes a deep breath and then turns back toward the room after a moment. "Pleased to meet you, Gisa." Then she is back to sipping from her drink, standing with her back to the fridge.

"It is perfectly okay. It is not cultural appropriation. I know that is what you are concerned about, yes? I have shared with you, so it is culturally and socially appropriate for you to respond with 'shalom' to me, if you choose to do so." Slowly balancing her glass on the arm of the couch, Gisa closes her book (the JPS Tanakh, if anyone's paying attention) and tucks it into her canvas messenger bag. Now it is time to be social, apparently. "Hello, Jessie. It is pleasant to meet you. I am Gisa Cohen of Dawn." Her eyes glitter again, sharp sparks, as the text on the woman's skin shifts and changes. Surprise on a golem's face? Well, that's new. "Aleichem shalom," she answers aloud.

Making a mental note of Gisa's answer, Max nods a few times, tucking that information away for next time. Leaning back in her seat, the mortal makes herself comfortable. Another one of the chairs near her is pulled closer, enough to where she can rest her feet upon it. "What does aleichem mean?" she questions with a raised brow, looking between Gisa and the tattoos on Jessie. Then she grins at Jessie again before she says, "We can always get roaringdrunk. I don't need to wait to get shot again."

"Shalom aleikhem is 'Peace be upon you'. And the response is 'Unto you, peace.' I take it my tattoos are speaking for me again?" Jessie's smile is a little sly but she semes pleased with this as she positions herself to watch Gisa past the rim of her can. She sips politely before adding, "Jessica Belmonte. Winter." She sways a bit as she walks, finding herself a chair on which to perch side ways while regarding the whole room. "And I like the way you think, Max. Let's do it. We'll just save the magic for when it hurts again." To Gisa she adds, "You're welcome to join us too so far as I'm concerned."

"Yes." When Jesse explains, Gisa's eyebrows go up, scriggly lines on her ceramic face arching up slowly, then falling again. "That is it. Shalom by itself is a greeting, but means peace. Shalom alecheim is ... more formal, and less common in Sephardic Hebrew. Though we all often sing the song when we come home from synagogue." There's a sort of briefly distant look on Gisa's face, unfocused, and then she waves one of her grey hands slowly in the air, as if waving away smoke. "Yes. Your tattoos spoke. Do you speak Hebrew?" This of Jesse. "Or only your skin? Is it your chem?"

A small frown. "I do not know if I can get drunk," she answers, rolling her shoulders slowly. Everything about her is deliberate, is slow. "But I will be certain you are both safe."

"Why don't you think you can get drunk?" Max wonders with a small tilt of her head as she looks curiously over to Gisa. "I mean, I know you guys aren't fully human anymore but you're still like, kind of human at least. Right?" A brow raises some before she lets her attention drift back toward Jessie. "Her tattoos are totally cool. Do they have a personality of their own? Kind of seems that way to me."

"Mostly my skin. Honestly, I know a lot about languages but I don't "speak" Hebrew, I just know some common phrases. You know? I'd love to learn more though." Jessica smiles again, a bit more effusively, and then she draws a slow breath. The tattoos are rearranging themselves once more, though as yet it does not seem that they have decided upon what they which to say for her. "I would appreciate it if you keep us safe then," the blonde allows, bowing her head slightly.

"Yeah, they're jerks sometimes," Jessica responds to Max, nodding. The tattoos across the woman's chest and shoulders finally choose a phrase: HEY! We Resemble That Remark. Jessie glances down at herself and then rolls her eyes. "But you know. As for being kind of human, sure. I guess? But how much different you are really depends... We could always try and find out though."

"I was made to last." That's Gisa's response to Max, with her shoulders rising up, and then falling again. As if that explains everything. She was made to outlast, and therefore, may not be able to get drunk? This is golem logic. Who knows, it might actually be true. (It's not true, she just never really drinks so doesn't know.) She watches the other women with a serious, thoughtful expression -- her default, apparently -- and takes another swallow of her wine. "Then I will do that. Keep you both safe, so you may drink." Easy enough! Her eyes spark with amusement at the rearranging text, a literal spark inside her eyepits. "Yes, I do know. I know many common phrases from many languages. I will teach you if you want to know."

"You can drink with us, too. We can test the limits of your tolerance to alcohol. If you get too drunk, then we can have Kyle drive us around!" Max suggests with a chuckle, since she knows the cat is a driver. Then she looks to Jessie once more, her brow raising slightly with a curious expression again. "How would you find out if you're human or not? There's that uh, Turing? or something test they give to test robot's AI or whatever. Not that you guys are artificial... Just..." She pauses to consider her thoughts and how to explain them properly. "I have yet to meet one of you that doesn't seem at least a little bit human."

"Usually to test if someone's human you need to expose their depeest secrets and break their heart to see if their tears are black," Jessica responds in a matter-of-fact tone. Then to the other two women she adds, "I would love to learn. I really only speak French and English."

Jessie stretches out her legs, leaning back very slightly as she does, arms at her sides. She reaches up to run a finger along her collar bone, tracing the tattoo there. It is the only one which never moves. On her left arm is currently the goddess Athena, on the right a hapless woman now becoming the mythical gorgon, Medusa. Illustration in broad strokes, black ink.

"We're all human. Or were human. We just become less and less and withdraw further and further from other people..." Jessica takes a deep breath. "Sometimes people just give up on their heart because they can't handle the pain."

"Kyle will be sure that I am safe, that is true," agrees Gisa. She takes another swallow of her wine, the glass tinking against her lower lip as she does, and her head tilts to one side. "I do not know that I think it matters if something or someone is human. It is if they are thinking that matters to me. Goylomim are not human. But I would not treat a fellow golem like they were not."

Then Jessie talks, and there's this sort of car crash expression on Gisa's face. It's almost impossible to read, because goylomim don't exactly have the same facial expressions as Normal People, but there's some sort of 'uh, what' occurring there. Then she says, in her usual monotone, "I do not cry black."

"I hope he isn't as overprotective with you as he is with me. I mentioned sleeping out under the stars because the weather was so nice and him and the other cat chick, Eden, were acting like I was wanting to sleep in a back alley or something," Max says with a slight roll of her eyes, obviously having gotten frustrated with the situation the night before. One of her drinks is finished off and she starts on the other. "I don't know if you need to break someone to test if they're human. I mean, that sounds like a pretty... cruel way to do so."

"It was a joke," Jessica responds to this slowly, shaking her head. "It's a Winter thing. No, you can't just 'test' to see if someone's human. They're either human enough or they're not. It doesn't matter, as long as you find people you can care about." She exchanges a brief look with Gisa before turning back toward Max and taking a deep breath.

"Sleeping under the stars is nice. A lot of us are pretty paranoid about being hunted down, though. So I can understand why they'd worry... I wouldn't mind, personally." Jessie shrugs her shoulders slightly, finishing her coke and sliding down to the floor. "Another drink for you, Max?" She heads toward the fridge regardless.

Her laugh -- a low, rumbling thing -- sounds a bit like a lot of pebbles rolling down a hill. "He is protective of me." And that, it seems, is as much as Gisa will say about Kyle and whether or not he is 'over' protective of her.

When Jessie explains, Gisa nods once, and then again. "You are bound to one of us. It makes you a target, Max. And since you Know Too Much now," the capitals are audible, "you must act as though you are being followed, and maybe hunted, at all times." Her shoulders rise, and fall, like a mountain range lifting up and wearing down. "I do not want you Taken. Neither does Kyle. Be safe."

"I'm not bound to anyone except maybe the Queen... but he explained that I was making a pledge for the Freehold, not him personally." There's a brief pause before she adds, "Well, I guess kind of him since he's in charge for now, but, you know what I mean." Glancing to Jessie, she grins and nods at the offer. "Sure, whatever you can scavenge in there should be fine," she tells her, not picking about what she drinks, whether it's alcohlic or not. "I'm careful, though, especially when I'm out camping. I rarely sleep more than a few hours at a time anyways," she points out before casually shrugging.

"You've never met one of Them." Jessica looks over from her place at the fridge now,watching Max past her shoulder. "It isn't surprising that everyone is a little bit terrified you'll end up in trouble on your own," she notes quietly. The blonde comes up with two beers and then proceeds to sashay her way across the room to offer one to Max. "Just be careful. There are some prety scary things that might pop out but as long as you know that..." A beat follows and then Jessie asks, "Has anyone taken you into the Hedge yet? Honestly, I have no idea what you've seen."

"Yes. That is what I mean. You are pledged, it does not matter if it is to me or to the Monarch, for Them to see it. It can be seen, I am told, by those who can see these things. Pledges are not just 'hello, I promise I will do my housework.' They exist. They exist as much as my glass of wine. They are a thing, and can be seen." Probably not surprising that it's on the topic of pledges that the golem who just put up a notice that she specializes in these things actually gets loquacious for once. Gisa takes another swallow of her wine and unfolds her legs, pushing herself to her feet and stretching her back. "I am only explaining why Kyle would be worried." She gives Jessie a sort of sidelong look. "She ought not go into the Hedge if she has not." The glass is returned to a bussing tub so that it can be washed, and Gisa picks up her coat and bag. "I must go for now. It is a walk back to where I am staying. I am glad to meet you, Jessie." And then Max gets a long, solemn look. "Be safe. Call me if you are in trouble. I will come."

Bright blue eyes watch as the golem exits, lingering briefly on the door before they return to Jessie. "I'm pretty sure I didn't promise to do any housework," she notes, her expression and tone matching in their playfulness. Because the mortal doesn't like being too serious for too long about things. "I haven't been in the hedge yet to my knowledge," she answers honestly with a shake of her head. "But, I've recently joined the Custodians and Ashe told me there might be times I'm required to go there to help out." Still taking care of her second drink, she picks up the glass and enjoys a sip of it before continuing on. "But, only with you guys around. I'm definitely aware it's a bad idea to be over there all by yourself," she tells Jessie with a reassuring tone. The mortal might have a bit of an ego sometimes but she's not /completely/ reckless. "I honestly don't know too much about things over there. Just that it's dangerous and there's where They and other strange things exist."

"No, I was asking because if you were going out there- with an appropriate group of people, of course- you might find out the kind of things we're afraid of. They're not- like anything you've seen. Some of them are like faerie tales. Or a Stephen King movie come to life. And much, much more dangerous." Jessie is taking a long drink from her bear, gesturing faintly with her free hand as she does. "It's inspired me to write a lot of things. Mostly about what you lose when you don't take that sort of thing seriously. Every one of us has lost something, Max. We're all- changed by it. Damaged. So nearly every one of the Lost you meet is going to be scared of the idea of you wandering alone. But there are some pretty cool things out there too so don't let the horror stories keep you from going. ...I'm not an Autumn. Camping sounds kind of nice, actually. I haven't really gone camping exactly in a long time."

"Next time I go out for more than just a couple of hours or a night, I'll invite you along. Maybe a few others too so they can see that I know what I'm doing," she says with a little huff. It's more than apparent that she doesn't like to be underestimated in an environment that she's more than familiar with. The drink is finished and set down on the table, then she picks up the one that Jessie had brought her. Max doesn't sip on it just yet, simply holding it while she continues to chat with the Lost. "I take things from my dreams sometimes and paint them. Sometimes memories, sometimes images and scenery that seem familiar but I can't actually recall." There's a thought that lingers in her mind before she dismisses it and returns her gaze to Jessie. "I know I haven't experienced the same things you guys have, but, that doesn't mean that I'm completely green to weirdness. You know I got shot? I was using mind powers on the robbers to get them to leave and they caught onto it because I got a bit cocky with things."

"I try to avoid getting shot at. I have a few tricks that can be handy in a jam but I'm not really a fighter. I probably would hve gottten myself shot the same way," Jessie admits with a soft laugh. She nods a coupel times then, sipping her drink once more. She draws her fingers through her blonde hair, pulling it away from her face and keeping the collar bone tattoo in view. Then Jessie takes a slow breath."Dreams, hm?" A beat. "That you can't quite recall? Do you want to?" Jessie studies Max's face for the moment, shifting her weight as she does. "We could visit your dreams sometime if you decide you trust me."

"I can remember the dreams just fine. Though... I'd consider them mostly nightmares rather than dreams. Dreams are usually nice, even if they're strange and don't make sense," Max points out. "It's more like, deja vu kind of. Experiencing something that seems familiar even if you don't know why." Leaning back in her seat a bit more, she thinks over the offer. "Maybe. I've been told you guys can do... dream stuff," she says, vaguely since she doesn't really know more about it than that. "I'll tell you what, I'll bring you one of my paintings sometime and you can judge if it's worth doing any dream stuff with. Alright? And I'll try to learn more about what exactly you guys can do with all that."