Seventeenth little lie ♰ I got no one left to mourn for me

[beingdifferent]

[Open spam]
[These last few weeks have been grey and listless for Esther, and today is no different. Still debilitatingly self-conscious, she saves her showers for the strangest possible hours, waking at three A.M. to bathe; she keeps her head down during the dinner shift and follows orders directly; she haunts the art room, both painting pieces (these are skilled, furious, sexual, distinctly adult, with nothing childish at all about them) and playing the piano (she has been perfecting her Rachmaninoff obsessively); and wandering through the gardens or hanging around the door to the CES hoping for access.

She hopes for solitude, but many hopes don't pan out.]

[Private to Lydia]
[After the pairing is announced Esther briefly reviews Lydia's posts to the network and steels herself, slipping back into, if not a childlike role, at least a gentle one. There isn't a real point to denying her age with Lydia, though she still presents herself with an infantile appearance; she knows or she doesn't know, and Esther is not worried about either option. When she contacts her new temporary warden, she's sure to be demure and agreeable, making a neutral observation.]

Your name is Lydia? That's very pretty. I'm Esther; pleased to meet you.

Comments

[Private]

[lydiascreams]

[Lydia for her part, spent time reviewing the material she got from Chromie at the library and while she did glance at Esther's previous network posts and saw her break down after the mirror flood, she didn't dig in too deep. She was planning on it but her reading is interrupted when she gets her message.

She is sitting in her room, and she smiles at the younger girl, keeping her voice in the balance of gentle but not condescending.]

Hi Esther, thank you, you have a pretty name too.

I take it you saw the assignments?

[Private]

[beingdifferent]

Thank you.

I did, and I assume you have something you'd like to say.

[Private]

[lydiascreams]

I think we both have plenty to say. The best way to start this is by getting to know each other, right?

How long have you been here, Esther?

[Private]

[beingdifferent]

I suppose you're right.

Now it's been close to nine months. And not very long for you, yes?

[Private]

[lydiascreams]

No, I haven't been here very long at all. Just about a month.

Did you have a warden before?

[spam - art room]

[notsoneedy]

[Keeping your head down and keeping to yourself, hoping that nobody notices you, are survival skills Needy herself has cultivated over the past few months of her own life, and she can appreciate them when she sees them. With most people she would get the warning and leave well enough alone.

Still, she still has a healthy sense of curiosity, and it would be too much to ask that she doesn't have a few questions to ask of the little girl (so it appears) living in the room right next to hers.

While Esther is working on her latest painting Needy lingers nearby, watching interested over her shoulder at the progress as more and more paint makes it onto paper. The intent fury with which Esther works is almost hypnotic.

She gets just close enough that she's out of arm's reach in case the first reaction she gets is a hostile way, standing more to one side so she's not directly at Esther's back in subconscious form of a threat. And then she clears her throat carefully, to catch her attention.]

Hey.

[spam - art room] [cw: fire]

[beingdifferent]

[The benefit of the art room is that it draws Esther into herself; she doesn't have to pretend as much, when creating something. Setting up an easel is much simpler and just as comforting as setting up a lie. She doesn't even have to hide her subject matter anymore; the days of painting lions and houses and flowers are over, and she can freely put her fantasies on the paper.

This piece is a nude woman, viewed from behind. Her peach-colored flesh is stark in a black background, and Esther has begun to knit the two colors together. She adds burns to the woman's legs and hips, adding highlights to the injuries as she lays down flames engulfing the model. Esther isn't sure who the woman is, but despite the ease with which she holds herself, she's burning.

She is so invested in painting that she doesn't even hear Needy come up behind her. Her first hint that anyone is there is her greeting, and Esther stiffens almost imperceptibly before turning wide, innocent eyes to her.]

Hello. Did you want to use the easel?

[spam - art room] [cw: fire, burns]

[notsoneedy]

[The flames, the sight of burned and charred flesh is part of what drew Needy in and made it hard to look away. It tugs at an older memory, one really not so distant but made harder to reach by all the rawer trauma that sits on top of it. The night Melody Lane burned down...all those people, screaming...the smell...

The night Low Shoulder rolled into town. The night that it all began.]

Uh, no. [She swallows before she speaks, her throat tight.] I was working with the clay, myself. I'm taking a break.

[There's still pale brown wet smudge all over her hands. Working a pot seemed too boring, but she wasn't sure what she was shaping, what she was trying to make. She got angry and frustrated when it started to resemble a tree. She kind of hates trees now. Don't ask.]

I just wanted to see what you were painting. I'm sorry for interrupting you.

[spam - art room] [cw: fire, burns]

[beingdifferent]

[Fire has always been a particularly helpful element to murder, in Esther's opinion. In and of itself it isn't the most efficient way to bring about a death, at least not without significant damage beforehand, but its usefulness in obscuring evidence can't be denied.]

Oh. What were you working on? [Her English is virtually perfect, although her accent is Eastern European - Russian, probably, for those used to discerning such things.]

It's perfectly all right. [Esther dips her brush into a can of water and swirls it before wiping off the excess paint on an old rag. She takes a long glance at Needy as she does, ] What do you think?

[spam - art room] [cw: fire, burns]

[notsoneedy]

[It seemed pretty 'efficient' the night at Melody Lane, that Needy recalls it. But then again that place was kind of deathtrap to start with. Bad wiring and spilled booze everywhere, and who knew when the last time anyone had cleaned?

Looking back on it she can't help but wonder. Did the band do it on purpose, somehow? Did they set the fire the old-fashioned way...or even with black magic?]

I'm not really sure. [She glances down, briefly, rubbing at the clay still stuck to her. Picking at her fingernails.] Think that was why I stopped. I didn't like the way it was turning out.

[At Esther's prompting though she lifts her head again for a good, long look at the canvas. She nods, perhaps a bit shaken but completely serious.] It's good. Way better than I could do. Especially with people; they're really hard to draw. [It's the symmetry, the anatomy. There's too much that can come out off.] You must be like, an art prodigy or something.

[Spam-Art Room]

[a_favor_now]

[He told her he'd be back. And he finds her in the art room, pounding away at the piano.

He's a snake this time, a decently sized constrictor. He winds his way up. Onto the piano lid, the vibrations reverbing through his body. He coils up and watches, and feels, her play.]

[Spam-Art Room]

[beingdifferent]

[The first thing Esther does upon noticing the red snake is to clap her ankles together, then to look down at him disapprovingly. Is this meant to be showing off, or does he have some other purpose for taking that shape?]

You never said you were an art aficionado.

[Spam-Art Room]

[a_favor_now]

Well you wanted me to leave before we could get to know each other.

[Spam-Art Room]

[beingdifferent]

And why did you take that shape? Did you want to pose in it?

[Spam-Art Room]

[a_favor_now]

Pose? No thanks. I take whatever shape I want at the moment. Or whatever is useful.

i was gonna tag your last post but i like this one better

[persecutioncomplex]

[Now that Syo's been out again, Touko obsesses about cleanliness, the possibility of sickness or dust around her. Blood she can't avoid on a ship like this, but she's taken to dust masks in her room and late-night trips to the showers. It isn't safe to have someone in the room with her, and when she hears feet slapping over the water, she pokes her head past the curtain to identify who's there. She's only half-done, but if she has to she'll run for it.]

[beingdifferent]

[The sound of running water is almost enough to make Esther turn around and march back to her room to either wait another hour or accept defeat and sponge-bathe. But tonight she's in a particularly stubborn mood and isn't ready to abandon her plan just yet. She keeps her thick bathrobe belted tight and holds her towel and washcloth close, examining the soapy face barely visible behind the shower curtain.] Who's there?

[persecutioncomplex]

[She can't see who it is and has to guess by height, pushing her hair away from her face when she sees who it is. There's no reason for Esther to come after her yet.]

You should be in bed.

[beingdifferent]

[For her part Esther judges based on accent and voice cadence. She crosses her arms, linen close to her chest, and sighs.]

Not now. I need a shower.

[persecutioncomplex]

[She squints, curling up her nose to try to read Esther's face. It might be a guilty conscience, but she still feels threatened, keeping the curtain pinned tightly to the wall.]

Why now? No one's supposed to be here at this time of night.

[Spam]

[lastrat]

[He finds her as he's exiting the CES, the strap for the bag that holds his sniper rifle over his shoulder. He's dressed in sweats, the front neck and his under arms dark with sweat. He's not panting, having taken the time to cool down, but he's a far cry from his usual suit-and-tie look.

The sneer that curls his lip almost automatically upon seeing her, however, isn't particularly unusual.]

Hoping to get in?

[He lets the door close behind him.]

[Spam]

[beingdifferent]

[Esther instinctively stands up straighter when Bond slips through the door, noting his pre-emptive denial by shutting the door and refusing to rise to it. She looks at him cooly, her small smile perfectly composed.]

Now you're concerned about what I hope for?

[Spam]

[lastrat]

Not remotely.

[He returns the smile. It doesn't reach his eyes.]

Don't you have a temporary warden again?

[Someone who really needs to be taken aside and told a thing or two about her.]

[Spam]

[beingdifferent]

Are you keeping a record?

[Spam]

[lastrat]

[He only lets his smile widen as he looks down at her.]

Aren't you?