WEEK 8

[al2955]

the pygmalion. . . ONLINE CAPTAIN'S LOG: WEEK (8)

monday - thursday (23) survivors Sunday's trial was only mere hours ago, but you find yourself faced with a new week on The Pygmalion. When you awaken, you will find the ship restored to its previous state, all areas interfered with during the murder looking mostly the same as they did before. Along with this, it appears there are new areas opened on the ship. It seems you have more exploring to do. The robot in the cafeteria has prepared another breakfast of various foods. (OOC: Please submit your murder proposals by 9 PM EST Tuesday.) taken list profiles private conversations setting rulebook murder proposals ENTER COMMAND_

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[baptizer]

[ Somehow with his weapon as intimidating as it was, she thought he'd enjoy that. She smiles, even if it's only a tiny bit. ]

Don't let Jason have all the fun.

[ She just figures he'd be stuck there complaining about how weird they are all. But, when he mentioned 'these', she looks to the paper, then back to him. ]

... Depends on if you get personal too. [ She's trying to tease, but fails. But, she corrects: ] Of course, ask.

[chiseler]

I can't in any show of good faith allow Jason Todd to have too much fun here. [It's hard to say if he's serious. But he gives her a considering look.]

We'll see. [There's a pause, and he's sketching out something on the page as he speaks. It's a tiny pine tree, probably.] Whose picture did you see when Alice was tempting us with the chance to speak to anyone we want?

[baptizer]

[ Elizabeth is a bit more defensive. Her arms tight against her chest as they cross. No need to hide it. ]

I have a limited selection, you know. [ Only one person, honestly. ] His name - ...his name is Booker DeWitt.


[ She says his name and there's both a fondness and sadness behind it. ]

He's the one who helped me escape. He promised - he promised me we'd get to Paris. [ Boring him to the details of Booker's own problems - how Elizabeth initially was more of a poker chip to gamble with to wipe away his debt than a person. ] I had only just met him, but he did more for me than anyone had my entire life.

[ She trails off. ]

I hope he's alright.

[chiseler]

[Ooh. A nerve? He doesn't seem sorry that he asked but he's absolutely curious. He's quiet as she explains, choosing not to interrupt and taking in the way she looks as she describes this man. Her savior, perhaps.]

…so that's why the mural of Paris. [He's usually not one to be reassuring, but…] I'm sure he's fine. Better than we're doing here, I bet. But I can see why you'd want to see him again and talk to him. [He reaches over to grab for a green pen, filling in the lines of his pine tree doodle. He knows he doesn't have to tell her the truth or meet her for her bargain, but he does. What can it hurt?] We all lost the chance to talk to people. Dunno if Alice is serious about letters, but it can't hurt.

[There's a short span of time where his pen drums in time with the music on his notebook while he bites his lip.] …when I was a kid, I met this girl. I was probably 12, she was 10. We didn't plan on meeting, it sort of just happened. Both runaways, both thought we were alone in the world. Figured we could be alone together…two years later, we found another girl. I was 14, Thalia was 12, and Annabeth was 7. Same story. Little kid on her own who ran away. Figured it was better to be together. I promised them that we'd stick together and be a family. [He's picking up a black pen and starting to sketch a little owl next to the tree.] So, if I can't see them, I can pretend maybe they'll get these instead. Better than thinking about who's dying on Friday.

[baptizer]

I just want to thank him, is all. [ She corrects. Her feelings on him are complicated. He... he was her first and only friend at the time. Selfishly, she thinks of those she's befriended while here. ] Before it's too late, is all.

[ She repeats in a timid way, trying not to make it into a big issue.

Yet... he speaks and she gets a large insight of him that was previously foreign to her. Elizabeth rolls the steel of her thimble against her pinky, idly brushing her thumb against the bumps and ridges as she thinks. ]

Nice to know I was right on the money. [ Per her request in their private conversation. ] Er - that's faith. You realize that, right?

[ She's trying to lighten the mood with a push of her knee against him, teasingly. ]

Having faith in times like this - it's all you have. I think they'll get the letters, but I also think they'll see you again.

[chiseler]

[He's not sure that's all there is to it, but who is he to judge? He has things he wants to do, too.]

It won't be too late, I think. [He opens his mouth, ready to argue that no, she's wrong, no that's not faith. That's wishful thinking. That's tempting fate and Luke already knows his fate, knows he can't change it. So what happens is she bumps his knee and he jumps a little at the innocent contact, still blinking at her as he's trying to comprehend all of that.]

I…maybe. [They won't. They won't unless it's to see his body in the funeral shroud as it burns. They won't unless they die, too, and find him in the Underworld. They won't…unless they see a new him who's reborn and doesn't recall a life as Luke Castellan. But it's depressing to dwell on that way.] Let me ask you something else. How can you be sure faith is something you can rely on?

[baptizer]

What else is there then?

[ Elizabeth doesn't know if she truly believes in it. God - the concept can seem so farfetched at time. She feels her powers vaguely through her veins, like blood pumping to keep her alive but... how could she be allowed to create worlds when He can? Even now as she feels helpless, she feels something. Optimism, hope, faith - they're all interchangeable to her. ]

Maybe it's naive to think... but why are you writing these letters then? You have no knowledge of if they'll reach them anymore than you doubt you'll see them again.

[chiseler]

Destiny. Prophecies. Things that are already written and no matter how much faith you have and how much help you ask for, sometimes you've just gotta do things for yourself. [He gestures to the letters.] That's why I'm doing this. It's partially for them and partially for me.

[He writes down a few words.] Even then, if the fates want things done a certain way that's how it's gonna be. [It's a vague answer, one that's playing both sides, but it's how he feels.] ...I'm going to tell you a secret. [It's said after a short moment.] But you've gotta keep it to yourself.

[baptizer]

[ He's not wrong. She's heard of prophecies more than he'd ever imagine. When your father claims himself to be the Prophet to God himself - how could she not? She stirs a bit, offering a reassuring smile. She won't force the subject anymore than he'd force a sensitive one of her own.

But.

He mentions secrets and she immediately stammers. ]

Luke, I - [ Sorry, tw: secrets. ] ... if you trust me..I can't stop you. Just.. be careful, alright?

[ She doesn't... want it to be used against him. ]

[chiseler]

[Truthfully if it was a secret he really was worried about, he wouldn't tell her at all. As it stands, this one is relevant and he turns the music up just a little so that no one else can hear him aside from her.]

My entire life's tied up in a predetermined fate. Can you believe that?

[baptizer]

Stranger things have happened. [ I mean?? Tears??? She doesn't make him feel isolated in the idea. ] Don't tell me some prophet told you your future.

[chiseler]

[Oh Liz...it'll get stranger. For a moment he appears nonchalant.]

Dunno if I'd call him a prophet but a guy with the gift of prophecy told me part of it. So did my mom. And my dad. [...he glances around once more.] And I'm sure some of the other gods probably knew, too. That wouldn't surprise me.

[baptizer]

You can't believe that. If that was the case, I would be some herald for nationalism.

[ She speaks out of ignorance, out of being completely unaware of the implications. Here we go, she clues in one a word that means something to her: 'gods'. ]

Wait - gods? What... how many gods are there in your world...?

[ LUCKILY, because she read a lot - she figures he means closer to mythology! Guess who read the Illiad, ya'll. ]

[chiseler]

[Ah, there it is. Just a pleasant smile!]

Depends if you're only counting the major gods or if the minors are included. Anywhere between 12 and 30. Only the 12 major ones have cabins at Camp. [He's banking on her understanding the implications, but he's patient enough with her.]

[baptizer]

Roman? Egyptian -

[ It's funny. The books she was allowed to read painted these as stories. Frivolous displays of cautionary tale with no true impact as such with the Holy Bible. Elizabeth doesn't feel as deeply about "gods" as she does "God". But, the interest is there. ]

Maybe the gods from the East?

[ She's muttering at this point. She smiles briefly. ]

So these gods... how do they impact this prophecy?

[chiseler]

[He holds up a hand to stop her.]

Greek. The originals, if you will. Those guys have been around for thousands of years, moving wherever western civilization goes. As for prophecies…depends. Some of the gods like Apollo have the gift of prophecy and can predict and see futures. Some gods manipulate circumstances to push people toward these prophecies. And some people have the gift of sight to make predictions and read prophecies designed for individuals. The Oracle does that.

In a way, the gods are also a bunch of jerks. They can know all about your fate but they won't tell you. Half the time you can pray to them and they'll ignore you anyway like you don't exist. [He lifts his eyes to look at her.] Have you ever heard from your god when you've prayed to him?

[baptizer]

[ Oh, she shuts her mouth as soon as he corrects her. Chewing his words, seriously trying to make sense of the string of information he's given her. Maybe it's ignorant for her to speak on such things and she's nearly apologizing for it!

She stops when he talks about their secrets and ugh. She feels bad for him. His question, it makes her look down. She thinks - 18 years... and not once had a prayer been answered. Elizabeth had the power to escape, but something keeps her tethered. She didn't pray for freedom at first - she prayed for a family. She prayed for love. She prayed for the loneliness to end.

It never came.

Not until the sinner came. ]

...No. Never.

[ Was all she can summon. Does that make her a hypocrite for believing so deeply? ]

He's more of an idea. His vision more clarity among a thunderstorm. We won't meet Him until He judges us and allows us into His kingdom. Your gods... they're actually real?

[chiseler]

[It's a good thing she doesn't apologize. He never wants her apologies, thinks she has nothing to apologize for. Part of him wonders if it's really so deeply ingrained in her to be sorry for everything. Regardless, he watches her puzzle that out for herself, a bitter smile appearing when she confirms his suspicions. Guess all gods really are the same.]

Yeah, me either. [But he allows that to roll right along and listen to her, not entirely impressed with the idea of one god being the judge of everything, of a kingdom he's unaware of, someone viewed as good and righteous and someone to be afraid of. Granted he knows he shouldn't be talking so openly of the gods or anything but fuck them. They left him on his own. Finally…finally, he takes a deep breath. She trusts him. He can trust her with this, at least.]

You didn't think "half-blood" was just a fancy title, did you? [Even now sometimes he'll wear that gaudy orange camp t-shirt, sleeves ripped off from lighting them on fire during Allen and Lavi's trial. But he'll offer her that. She's a clever girl. Perhaps she'll understand without him saying it.]