01-15-2018, 08:01 PM
Tenzin didn't seem to hesitate to take a drink and of course she reacted as you'd expect from the first shot of tequila. Jacinda smiled broadly.
And then she was done, bottle on the floor. Jacinda felt a stab of disappointment. Nothing loosened the tongue like a drink. And she was 50,000 secrets pent up and ready to burst. Not real secrets, you know. Just everything swirling on the mind and you kinda wanted someone as addled as you to follow as you meandered from one thing to another, as they jumped around with their own stuff.
Not a fucking thing would be solved. No problems erased. No great realizations to be had. But by God it would be fucking fun and memorable and not all at the same time. It would just feel good.
Still, she did chuckle at the girl's reaction to the term 'gods'. She got it. She really did. But she had no interest in being the PC police. No. Sorry. We don't call them gods anymore. And godlings is worse. There's an element of dismissal in that term. Alienness. Other. We call then powered humans. Augmented humans. Gifted.
Blati-fucking-blah! They were what they were. And the potential for danger was too great. Simplistic? Maybe. But she never claimed to be a philosophizer or whatever. She was who she was and she fought for humanity. She didn't know of any other way to define humanity. Not without endangering them. It wasn't something she was willing to live with.
Still, the girl was Atharim, had shared a drink and had come from wherever she said- was that the Himalayas? Until now she'd never travelled out of North America and all the geography she learned was part of her job.
"You've come a long way. What did you hope to do?"
Her eyes kept being drawn to the tattoos. Now those alwayd told a story. Some were meaningful. Some were drunken whims. Some were jokes. And some just had to be. And some were a mix. And all of that was good. Good or bad, mistake or not, it was who you were at that moment. What was important to you or meaningful. You were made by what you experienced. You couldn't forget or reject that even of it had been wrong or a mistake or even bad. It all shaped you.
Her first had been her snake, in the figure eight. Part of it was similar to Regan's. But there was one part that few if any noticed. The eight was lopsided and looked like a stream or river surrounding and crossing an island. One of the jogs of the lake bent slightly in the shape of a letter. It was vague, but she knew it was there. She had drawn it herself, when she was 20. The letter 'J'. And there on the island were all kinds of fanciful shapes. Candy canes. Little bears. A tiger. It was all very weird in these bright colors.
Sometimes, when she took someone to bed, they noticed and remarked on it. Just didn't seem to match her tough exterior. But she loved it. It had been her first tattoo. Her secret, that no one knew. A good memory of a special moment when her life truly began.
She answered. "No, I'm not from here. I'm from America. But I came for the same reason as you. The Destroyer. The leader of the Atharim here- he is called Regus- calls him Apollyon or something. From the Bible I think. And he set up these groups to protect man and to stop him. So I came to join. Course he's gone now...."
The answer was just words, now. Brandon lived. Regus was dead. The Atharim scattered. What was their point here? Something needed to happen. She took another long draw on her drink. She already felt warm
In the meantime she nodded to the Tenzin's arms. "I like your work. Very different. Is it all one piece or did you get it over a period of time? Do they have any special meaning for you?"
Duh. Still, asking was part of the process. It was one way to connect with a person. And for some reason she just felt like talking.
Edited by Jacinda, Jan 15 2018, 08:55 PM.
And then she was done, bottle on the floor. Jacinda felt a stab of disappointment. Nothing loosened the tongue like a drink. And she was 50,000 secrets pent up and ready to burst. Not real secrets, you know. Just everything swirling on the mind and you kinda wanted someone as addled as you to follow as you meandered from one thing to another, as they jumped around with their own stuff.
Not a fucking thing would be solved. No problems erased. No great realizations to be had. But by God it would be fucking fun and memorable and not all at the same time. It would just feel good.
Still, she did chuckle at the girl's reaction to the term 'gods'. She got it. She really did. But she had no interest in being the PC police. No. Sorry. We don't call them gods anymore. And godlings is worse. There's an element of dismissal in that term. Alienness. Other. We call then powered humans. Augmented humans. Gifted.
Blati-fucking-blah! They were what they were. And the potential for danger was too great. Simplistic? Maybe. But she never claimed to be a philosophizer or whatever. She was who she was and she fought for humanity. She didn't know of any other way to define humanity. Not without endangering them. It wasn't something she was willing to live with.
Still, the girl was Atharim, had shared a drink and had come from wherever she said- was that the Himalayas? Until now she'd never travelled out of North America and all the geography she learned was part of her job.
"You've come a long way. What did you hope to do?"
Her eyes kept being drawn to the tattoos. Now those alwayd told a story. Some were meaningful. Some were drunken whims. Some were jokes. And some just had to be. And some were a mix. And all of that was good. Good or bad, mistake or not, it was who you were at that moment. What was important to you or meaningful. You were made by what you experienced. You couldn't forget or reject that even of it had been wrong or a mistake or even bad. It all shaped you.
Her first had been her snake, in the figure eight. Part of it was similar to Regan's. But there was one part that few if any noticed. The eight was lopsided and looked like a stream or river surrounding and crossing an island. One of the jogs of the lake bent slightly in the shape of a letter. It was vague, but she knew it was there. She had drawn it herself, when she was 20. The letter 'J'. And there on the island were all kinds of fanciful shapes. Candy canes. Little bears. A tiger. It was all very weird in these bright colors.
Sometimes, when she took someone to bed, they noticed and remarked on it. Just didn't seem to match her tough exterior. But she loved it. It had been her first tattoo. Her secret, that no one knew. A good memory of a special moment when her life truly began.
She answered. "No, I'm not from here. I'm from America. But I came for the same reason as you. The Destroyer. The leader of the Atharim here- he is called Regus- calls him Apollyon or something. From the Bible I think. And he set up these groups to protect man and to stop him. So I came to join. Course he's gone now...."
The answer was just words, now. Brandon lived. Regus was dead. The Atharim scattered. What was their point here? Something needed to happen. She took another long draw on her drink. She already felt warm
In the meantime she nodded to the Tenzin's arms. "I like your work. Very different. Is it all one piece or did you get it over a period of time? Do they have any special meaning for you?"
Duh. Still, asking was part of the process. It was one way to connect with a person. And for some reason she just felt like talking.
Edited by Jacinda, Jan 15 2018, 08:55 PM.