(2019-04-14) Tiny Glimpses
Tiny Glimpses
Summary: Callisto is once again in the holding room with Daxton. There's minuscule progress, but it hurts as much as it helps.
Date: 2019-04-14
Related: Various.
Scene Runner: NA

TP Room 1
Sun Apr 14, 2019

High security (overseen by Unit 23) holding room in an obscure part of the school, inaccessible by students.

It is a spring evening. The weather is cool and raining.


By now Callisto's visits have become commonplace. She is very-nearly in this part of the school every day… sometimes for over an hour; sometimes for mere minutes. It depends on Daxton's state. But the intent is continuous: to make sure he is okay.

Sometimes the graceful girl is escorted by someone other than AfterThought; occasionally it's Pulse. THOSE moments are awkward but if the two have any common ground, it's to see that Daxton is ok again. Regardless of whomever it is to show her into the room, Callisto is intent. She does not bring the SNES again but instead: a messenger-bag, bearing some sort of a book… a couple of books. It looks heavy on her shoulder. Still in civvie clothes, especially on a Sunday. Graceful and pretty.

"Good evening Tempo," Callisto offers calmly. It's Sunday, after suppertime in the school up above. She looks to the speedster, trying to gauge his status today.

<FS3> Daxton rolls Mind +1: Good Success.

Daxton's state has been….uncertain many days. Sometimes he's calm, sometimes agitated. Today seems a good day.He look up from where he's sitting on the bed. No eye contact, no size, but he nods, 'Hey." He looks…calmer. Calli would be told that he's started to do push ups and sit ups. Which is either a really god thing, or a really bad thing. No one is certain. The book bag is glanced at, his fingers twitch.

"Am I alright? I can return later." She offers simply.. gives Daxton the choice. Hopefully a good thing in what is essentially a confinement. She looks… 'off' today nut no so much as to be of concern. Not the look of a girl who has lost sleep — she is fresh-faced and radiant — but the look of one who has thought a lot regardless. Who can blame her upon her discovering that her subconscious has been rife with magical ponies. Seriously. She needs to talk to Oridove about THAT one.

However, seeing Daxton warrants a softening in her manner; a sort of affection. She can't help it. "How are you faring?" Callisto pries, shouldering the bag.

<FS3> Daxton rolls Alertness: Success.

Well, it's a choice of when, not if she comes back, so the ten lifts a shoulder, "Whenever." He shifts, attention going back to the TV. Well, it seems to be on the TV but he'll ask, "What's wrong with you?" He noticed. Wetting his lips, eyes on the TV, but he's listening to her.

Blink? What's wrong with her? Callisto pauses.. "What do you mean by this?" She asks innocuously, her brow furrowing. Her long-legged gait slows as she very briefly regrets whatever she may have done just now to warrant the question. Does she look out-of-sorts? Or is he asking in regards to why she is here, period. Why is she here being met with suspicion from him and glares from Pulse and that silent communication of woe and worry that she exchanges with AT. What is 'wrong' with her to submit to such?

Or does he literally mean what is wrong with her now to warrant the edginess to her worried gaze. She studies him, sighs softly. "I've messed up… on something else entirely different. I've been having some difficult days but 'lo, who hasn't had a bad day?" Cerulean eyes move toward the television and she opens her bag. "I've something for you. To hold onto, for safe keeping."

Strangely, it seems to be the latter. "Teen make it right." Boom, that simple. "Don't waste time here, go do whatever it is you need to. You look like you're going jump out of your skin." He doesn't realize the only reason he's picked up on this is because eh knows her so well. Not that he remembers. He takes a deep breath, hand raising to run through his hair. Dry shampoo only gets hair so clean. "I don't think they're going to let me hang into anything, Strawberry." He doesn't even realize he called her that.

Oh God. So familiar. He sounded just like that when he coaxed her to shit or get off of the pot when it came to plotting her mother's end. Callisto's heart gives a great lurch. She'd better hold onto her saddle because the next whammie is yet to come.

"I shall be alright. Others shaln't be bothered again by what.. has happened. It is entirely on me to just get over it. To understand it." She looks at the bed, looks hesitant. There are places to sit here but she obviously wants to be close to him. Carefully she eases down to sit at the end of the bed but also to give Daxton space.

"T'is a relief to be in this room." She admits… where powers are deadened. Where she feels normal and unbothered. Callisto looks up at Daxton, pulling the bag into her lap. She's about to speak when—-

Holy shit.

He calls her that. Callisto's eyes round in her face and her breath is sharp, sudden… drawn in. "Strawberry?" She whispers, gazing at him. "Whereever did you get that name from Dax—.. T-Tempo?"

Daxton grunts, eyes on the screen. A relief, right. But then he blinks, head swiveling just a few degrees in her direction, "What?" Does she mean Tempo? "It's the name they assigned me."

"Strawberry." Callisto whispers, "You called me Strawberry." But she does not look offended.. no, she looks affected. Rapt. Intense cerulean eyes look the speedster right in the face. Daxton is only glancing at her just barely, she is looking at him as if a great many things hinge on his response. "T'was.. just happenstance? Does the name mean anything to you?" She asks softly, fingers knitting into the strap of the bag and it's yet-to-be revealed contents.

Daxton did? no…why would he do that? His face crinkles and he shakes his head. "You must have misheard." Why would he call her a fruit? Feeling slightly uncomfortable with the staring, he'll shift, drawing a knee up. "What did you bring?"

Now she feels foolish. Color flushes to her cheeks and Callisto reprimands herself inwardly. She turns to face the television, partly; she is seated now in profile as she delves into the bag. "T'is nothing.. I.. misheard." she 'confirms'. Easier that way. Her hands move soundlessly to pull out a tome of fairytales; it's a rare, expensive piece of work.. hardcover. All of the pieces drawn by the very author of the book. "T'is a bit.. dated. Early 1950s." She admits, brow furrowed. "Only a few were ever produced… t'was created by a woman in the South who immigrated here. But her artwork is… t'is something your sister shall truly love when you are able to give it to her." Callisto hands the pristine, hardcover book to Daxton. It s not a small book; it's meant to be a table book, enjoyed propped open wide in a bed being read to a group of children. The art is exquisite; that of fey creatures, mythical creatures. Some with pointy ears just like Callisto.

"I pray she enjoys it. T'is… hard to find."

<FS3> Daxton rolls Mind +1: Failure.
<FS3> Daxton rolls Alertness: Good Success.

Yup, that's it. She misheard. Nothing to remember here. He does notice the blushing. He picks up on quiet. Bit without making eye contact. "Old book, huh?" His fingers brush her when he takes it, he doesn't feel quite as warm now. It's opened up and a few pages flipped through, "They look like you."

Her body language does not speak of 'mishearing' anything. Callisto stares straight ahead as the book is thumbed through, her face red. How.. she did not mishear but he… she heard…

… he said it so outright. So naturally. She listens to the flipping of pages; her jaw works as a ridiculous commercial airs obnoxiously upon the screen. "Old enough." Nevermind Callisto was alive but not stateside when the rarity was published. "T'is a miracle that my sister found it in so large a city." Said simply, trying to play off her faux-pas.

'They look like her'… Callisto doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. "Coincidence." Offered feebly but still with kindness. She looks down into her lap, red to the tips of her ears. "Someone used to call me Strawberry, back in the day. T'is a silly tale. But it means a lot." What a weird nickname for so elegant a girl.

Daxton snorts, "It looks old." So old. Ancient. "Why? Wouldn't it be in a Large city as a opposed to someone's attic?" He figures she found it at a antique shop or something…. As for coincidence, another glance in her direction. "Suuuure." Maybe it's the red tipped ear, but he doesn't believe her really. "That's a weird nickname."

"T'was an antique store." Callisto actually admits; Oridove complained of the 'foolish thing costing a chunk'. Who cares. The money was amassed by greedy dark fey; if it can be put toward something innocuous, all-the-better. She is still red, but she's calming down as she sets the bag down between her ankles. "The nickname was of my own making." Why not toss forth snippets of memory.. see if anything 'jogs' his mind.

"I met a boy in town whom I offended.. so I sought to make it up to him by leaving an anonymous tip at his workplace. I thought myself smart in leaving a moniker on the note, that I left with his tip at this restaurant. I called myself 'Strawberry'. He harangued me over it. But we eventually dated. T'is just funny that you sayd that name."

So close, the intent to just blab out the truth.. but she promised not to aggravate him. She looks up. "Do you need anything? Sorry, I …. rambled on."

That…makes no sense, "Why did you try to bribe him with money?" Seems even without know it was him, he's reacting the same way. "And why Strawberry?" He looks like he was going to ask more, but then she's asking about his needs, 'To get out of here?" Gah, please. He feels like he's going crazy. "I don't know. Think you cold sneak me in a pizza and shake?"

There's a bit of spark that might look or sound familiar: "Bribery? No. I meant to apologize, is all; I may have just gone about it in a…. not the best way. But we worked it out." Said simply, but she softens. "Funny that you mention shakes… he rather loved shakes. Most kinds. But when we met he was drinking a strawberry shake. T'was my inspiration for that ridiculous nickname." Callisto finally looks at him, head tilting. Her hair is loose again, freshly washed. Still a touch damp. A wince though at the 'getting out of here' bit. Callisto's brow furrows again and she watches his face.

"I could try? What flavor shake?" Asked with a blush.

<FS3> Daxton rolls Mind +1: Good Success.

Daxton grunts, but will nod, looking back at the TV. Sounds like bribery to him! The shake doesn't sound right though….why does he suddenly think of a smoothie? Ah well. This room is making him nuts, he wishes he could just go for a run. Thank God for the tv. "Any I guess. Maybe chocolate malt or something?" A deep breath, which makes his whole chest expand before he sigh, rolling his shoulder.

"Do you require anything for your shoulder?" Asks the girl next, standing and leaving her bag alongside the bed. Interestingly enough this time around there's nobody seated there vigilantly… it is just Callisto and Daxton in the room. More trust appears to be granted to the afflicted speedster because even without powers he could still throttle Callisto, if his stretching and expanding of that chest is anything to go by. She is resilient but not strong if that makes sense.

Callisto appears to be speaking into an ear piece but oddly, she does not look comfortable doing it. AS if the action of using this technology is foreign to her. She makes contact with whomever is waiting outside the door, "But just wait a moment."

Eyes rove to Daxton and she points to her shoulder, waiting. Anything for aches and pains?

Daxton eyes the bag, it would be easy to take it and strangle her… Beat her to death with the heavy book that's next to him. He shifts, pulling his other leg closer. Dax doesn't like that his mind goes those places! 'No…no drugs." He's aware enough to know something is in his system. Or wants to be.

Wouldn't the authoress of the book, 'L. Clery', spin in her grave to discover her labor-of-love being used to brain a fey being. But alas, this is a digression. Callisto watches Daxton looking at the bag… does she expect him to do something with it? Her nostrils twitch as she breathes deep but somehow she just… tries to trust him; or at least trust his process. Callisto inhales again, her shoulders stiffening briefly. She can see the twinges of struggle. Even in just the fidgeting, moving his leg, pulling it close. Looking anywhere but at her. Callisto turns back to the door, her lips moving as if responding to someone.

"No drugs. I mean something topical. An ice pack, a salve." Callisto watches him, "Nothing to ingest. I promise."

Daxton's head shakes, "No…it's not that bad." It's not like road rash or anything, just stiff muscles. "If I could go run I'd feel better." He's not even really asking, cause he knows she doesn't have the power to let him out.

"I am sorry.. I haven't the ability to grant you such." Callisto remarks with earnest regret. "But someday, I pray, you shall be free. Please just trust the process." She presses gently but doesn't push it, but she sounds genuine. "Those who are involved in this wish to see you well, and whole again. You shall see your loved ones again." She hopes… hadn't the unit been in touch with his mother? Callisto takes a deep breath and makes her way back over to kneel at her bag. "The pizza and the shake, it shall not be long. It will be brought to you." Offered hopefully.

Trust the process…easy for her to say! The still speedster sighs, letting his eyes close and his head fall back to touch the wall behind him. "I hate this…."

The newfound, compassionate side of Callisto wants so badly to go forth and hold him. He looks so defeated there, back against the wall. Eyes closed. The boy may be aware of her body settling once more at the foot of his bed; she seats herself again but appears to be keeping herself mindful of his space. "I am sorry." Callisto admits, looking to Daxton. "More than you could know, at this moment." Admitted then, another flirtation with the whole expanse of knowledge and memory that she has at her disposal.. but cannot talk about. Not yet.

"I wish there were more I could do."

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