Elizabeth DeWitt (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
once_janus) wrote2017-02-26 07:33 pm
once_janus) wrote2017-02-26 07:33 pm
IC Contact
"You've reached the voicemail of Elizabeth DeWitt. Leave a message if you must; I'll get back to you at my earliest convenience."
[Sarcastic? Maybe slightly]
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[Don't mess with mama bear!Christine.]
And fan clubs are annoying but mostly harmless, even down here. I wouldn't worry until one of them is trying to kidnap you.
[Says the woman obsessively in love with her kidnapper. Hello, Stockholm Syndrome. It's funny because she's Swedish and has family from Stockholm, right? No? Moving on then....]
It doesn't matter if I'm okay with him or not. He's here and I'm dealing with the ramifications of it. The important thing has nothing to do with our apparent history.
I showed him the picture of Booker. He knows him. They're friends, supposedly.
And he knows where Booker is.
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Happy now? [Someone who knows her well is likely to pick up the affection in the tone]
Well, the dracos are hard to complain about, that's for sure.
[Hold the phone (literally). Did she just. Is that just. Elizabeth reads the final few lines over and over, convinced she must be mistaken or hallucinating or--
But no matter how many times she goes over it, it remains the same. A few minutes witle away the shock enough for her to type, but nothing like a full coherent thought comes out.
She begins to ask if New Hancock is certain. She begins to ask if there is anyway to tell he's her Booker, or anyway to know if he's still there-- but she already knows the answer. There is only one way to know for sure.]
Did he say exactly where?
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[And Christine can't resist being sarcastic.]
City called Tartessos. I've never been there before but I know where it is. It's a few weeks away on the train.
He has a business there, apparently.
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[And she's on her computer, searching up this city but the friggin shit internet is taking 10 years]
I have to go; you know that. Part of me wants to leave right now. I know better than that, but I still want to.
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We'll get there, we just have to make a plan, alright? I'm not letting you out of this city without me.
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And I'm not ignorant to how things may play out. He might not be... well, mine. But there's no way of knowing, is there? Not until we find him.
But it's so difficult not knowing; like there's a weight in my chest.
Uhg, I think I need a smoke; or a drink.
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I stole a bottle of one of your favorites this morning. Want me to come over?
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You're right. I don't like it, but you're right. It's almost like you have some insight into what you're talking about.
Yes. The fact that it's stolen makes it even more satisfying.
... Oh god, Chris. Is thi really happening?
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Being dead is so weird.
This is happening.
Just...try not to let the fantasy get the best of you. It's better that way.
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Don't worry, somewhere along the way I became a pessimist. I'm not under any illusions, this could be another dead end.
But what if it isn't?
[ohgodohgodohgod]
Chris are you sure... he'll want to see me? If he is... if he's the Booker I remember? God, I've been avoiding thinking about it for so long, but...
I'm so different than the person he'll remember. What if he's...
disappointed in me?
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I'm not the person that Erik knew.
Fear of his disappointment is why I ran away from my audition at the Requiem at the last second. But then Erik found me anyway and twenty minutes later we were a tangle of limbs above the art gallery.
You are who you are now, Liz. Booker will either learn to deal with it or he won't. You can't go back to who you used to be.
And you can't change how Booker will feel once you meet him. All you can do at this point is meet him and see what happens.
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Damn it.
[Liz near fumbles her phone; that-- what-- no, no, no.]
Somehow, I don't think it will happen quite like that. A tangle of limbs is certainly out of the question.
[aaaaand she's thinking about it. Great.]
But you're right about everything else. There's no going back; we can only go forward.
Forward with cigarettes, booze, and comfort food, at this point.
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[CHRISTINE, SHUT UP. You don't even realize what you're implying, here.
...Though it's not that far off from what actually happened on your end. STILL. SHUSH.]
I've got plenty of alcohol and a decent amount of cigarettes. There anything specific you want me to
stealget in terms of comfort food while I'm still out? I'm pretty sure the Varia is engaging in a pretty spectacular smuggling scheme tonight, they probably won't miss a crate of missing candies.no subject
[But she's thinking about it, and thier talking about it. What is this even.]
Though that doesn't narrow down the outcome by much
Eclairs would be nice. And chocolate croissants. I'm in a pastry mood.
I know the alleged 'treats' downstairs are not quite what they seem, but even those seem appealing tonight
I'm really glad you'll be with me on this, Chris
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[Why does anyone let Christine have a phone]
A plethora of fancy French pastries, coming right up.
...Just...don't touch that crap downstairs. It may taste good in the moment but you know weird things happen after people eat them.
But yeah. Me too. I know how hard this can all be.
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Yes, but not all the time. Sometimes they're perfectly acceptable pastries. The risk makes it a game, a gamble. Something else to worry about, at the least.
But I won't, if you insist.
I'm such an idiot; I didn't think about... any of this
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What didn't you think about? The possibility that you'd actually succeed in your quest to find Booker?
Because I admit, that reality didn't really hit me until I was standing outside of Angel's Requiem. I had followed so many dead ends, it felt unreal to find the path that actually kept going.
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You'll just have to treat me, won't you?
I didn't think about how different I am. About the things I've done since he died-- since I drowned him. Most of all, I avoided thinking of how I actually feel about him.
And suddenly it's a lot, all at the same time.
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You have time to sort it out, though. Even if we leave tomorrow, it'll be at least a few weeks before we get there.
So one thing at a time. Figure out how you feel about him and proceed from there. What would you like to say to him?
[It's so easy to say these things when you're the one outside of them this time.]
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Leaving tomorrow would be nice; not sure it's exactly plausible, but that won't stop me from trying. I'm going to have to work something out with owner before we go, so I don't lose my place. Suddenly there's so much to do.
What I'd like to say?
First... I would tell him that I'm sorry; that I never wanted to hurt him. I would tell him that he was my only friend, and that he's so so important to me.
I would tell him how much I missed him, even before I died
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[Which means she has made a lot of enemies. No one likes being bested by a tiny waif of an angel.]
He'll understand, I think. But don't be too hard on yourself if in the moment, you don't get to say all these things.
I had a different dramatic speech planned out for just about every possible scenario in which Erik and I would be reunited. I used none of them when the moment finally came.
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That isn't exactly comforting. What if I say the wrong thing? The last time he saw me was when I drowned him.
But if you want to get really technical, the last time he saw me was when he walked through the final door that brought him to the river. I couldn't bare to go go with him, I didn't want to see what had to be done.
But I did. Existing in multiple lucid incarnations across the span of the multiverse will do that. I still saw it. Felt when his last breath left him. I can only imagine how he might feel about seeing me, here.
Chris... are you sure he'll want to see me?
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But at the same time, she knows that if her search for Erik lead out of Little Hades...She wouldn't hesitate to hop right on the train and carry on.
She's not going to admit to that, though. Not when her friend is so distraught over her own emotional crisis.]
Perhaps not comforting but it is the reality of the situation. I just don't want you to set some strict expectation on yourself on how you'll behave in the moment.
And there really isn't any way to know if he'll want to see you until he does, actually, in fact see you. Because that's just it, you're imagining things. All you're going to do is torture yourself.
Don't be me, Elizabeth. Don't drive yourself mad.\
I know that that's easier said than done but please try. We'll get there as soon as we can and then you'll have your answers.
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I'll try; but one could go so far as to say there's a bit of a resemblance between us. Or maybe I'm just being sentimental?
Whatever powers rule Hell must know it's much more efficient to make us torture ourselves. Can't say it's not effective.
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Sentimentality doesn't suit you, Elizabeth. But what is it you're always saying...Constants and variables?
You'll get through this, no matter what actually happens.
If all this self-inflicted torture is Hell's doing, then what's Heaven's excuse? Hell isn't a place, it's a state of mind.
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