ataraxionlogs | ( open ) show me how to lie

CHARACTERS: severus snape & a variety of people patient* enough to put up with his ass. (*maybe)
LOCATION: various.
WARNINGS: tba.
SUMMARY: open log for april.
NOTES: if you want to do something but can't think of an opener, feel free to send me a pm, i don't mind writing starters!

Maybe, Severus reflects as he stares down at his arm in the privacy of his small quarters, the whole department thing was a bad idea. SCI » 028 » 084. It inspires a kind of tired bitterness in him thinking about the advances muggles have made in science while wizardkind have hidden away and gotten very good at hovering in place. He remembers the American venture of Apollo 11, remembers the terror and wonder of it, nine years old and imagining if that's what these slow and dull creatures can do just think, just think, what's waiting for him in the world his mother comes from.

SCI. SEC. OPR. He imagines arrangements in three letters for other headings. For gravity management or temporal repair, for mysteries and healing. Science is such a lifeless word and here he is with it stamped next to another, older brand, both self-chosen in one way or another. Xenobiology is a joke and he knows it but his interest is real, and his determination is true - if he has to crowbar magic into this place with stubborn viciousness and arguments then so be it. He won't be trapped here otherwise and damn everyone who disbelieves or shrugs it off or rolls their eyes. They are incomplete people. They have to build machines to see just a fraction what he breathes and touches and manipulates. And he will not hide from them.

He works, both in the "safe" laboratory they've been shuffled to in accordance to security's fussing, and also up in the burned-out attic space of the forsaken genetics rooms. He senses the instability, but doesn't fear it. He cooks meals and occasionally tolerates company, he visits the gardens - for royalty or for his own version of hunting; he considers trying to plant things, has little aborted fantasies of potion-brewing, but doesn't go anywhere with it. He contemplates a dozen projects and, hell, maybe he'll do all of them. It's not like he's going anywhere anytime soon.

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He shrugs. It's fine. They are acquaintances, and besides-- xenobiology. The very thing he's been so dismissive, even disdainful of, ends up being the first real work for the department he's doing. Despite the fact that he's sure Ilde is here because of him personally and not because of any department headings, it's a funny turn of events. (Or something.)

And so after shuffling a few things around, they begin. He has her follow a light with her eyes, at first randomly and then ticking it back and forth like a metronome. He has her walk from one aisle to another, then again with her eyes closed. Has her trail out a little maze on a sheet of paper he makes by pressing his hand against it. Asks her her name, where she's born, how she'd cross a difficult river if she had to. Lastly he sets a dozen small strips of paper in front of her, blank and seemingly identical, and ask her to choose which ones she likes immediately. Three of them have invisible, faint notes of a charm on them - nothing more than a magical pencil-mark.

It takes some time to get through but Severus is patient and thorough. The notes he takes will be illegible to anyone else, and look more like sideways sketches than words. At least there's nothing Ilde can read and become concerned over.

At first, with the light, nothing is particularly awry; she follows it easily, her eyes respond the way they ought to, it's all a bit anticlimactically standard. She's perfectly capable of walking in a straight line to another aisle--

--with her eyes open. With them closed, she veers subtly but distinctly off course, and regards her own route with some consternation when she gets to the end of it and has a look. She's drifted, and it's only a little, but walking in a straight line she's already walked is not that hard.

Her name is Ilde Decima Featherstonehaugh; because she is terribly precise, she adds that her authorial pseudonym is Ilde Sauvageon. She was born in Calais, France. She thinks she'd swim across the river; she's always been a strong swimmer.

And she reaches immediately and without the slightest hesitation for the pieces of paper marked with magic.

Edited 2014-04-13 00:54 (UTC)

Lights are normal. Even walking is normal; not everyone is able to orient themselves perfectly with their eyes closed. Most people begin to veer in circles. Usually not that quickly, but it's not drastic enough to raise any red flags. Her answers are perfectly fine. 'Swimming' is a dangerous choice and it makes him think about inner ear imbalances with people who went into engineering - and so next to the 'fine' note about her walking, writes 'swimmer's ear?' in his own shorthand. Though he doesn't actually think much of it.

He's thinking this is almost for sure an issue with something on the vampire's end until she picks up the earmarked slips of paper without so much as a blink. Severus keeps his face seamlessly neutral. Not quite distractedly, he refills his coffee cup, then offers her some. Once he sets the pot back down he reshuffles the slips of paper and sets them out before her. "Once more," he says, before taking a sip. Everything here is perfectly normal. Perfectly normal.

Holding the refilled mug in one hand, warming herself, Ilde obligingly glances over the pieces of paper and with her free hand selects, unerringly, the same three she'd chosen before. She doesn't seem to think anything of it, and he's not reacting in a way that suggests she should (visibly), so her inquisitive look is more relaxed than she was when she first sat down.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

No change in inflection, no indication that he's noticed anything out of the ordinary - or anything at all. She's being very patient with methods she's probably not terribly familiar with, so he doesn't bother patronizing her about them. And in this situation, he thinks he'd lie about it anyway. For now. He has to know what he'd be telling the truth about first. Severus picks them back up and sets them aside.

"I know you'd feel better with a definitive answer," he begins, "and while I don't have one yet, I can say that I don't think you have any reason for fear or serious concern. Whatever reaction you're having isn't doing anything to hurt you. Stress is a universal aggravator, and it's best you don't enable that in yourself."

Severus looks through his notes, three-quarters of a sheet on his notebook from home. He's using a pen this time, even though he hates it.

"All right." That seems reasonable, and he says yet-- she's content with the implication that he's going to keep looking for one. "Grant - Ward, I think he's in SEC or he's going to join - said I should find out if there are any older vampires from Elena's world that I could ask, if they know anything that might be helpful..."

She shrugs. "He also said never to do that again about five times."

"Mr Ward gives good advice," and finally there's a little bit of sharpness to his tone. "May never do that again be tattooed on the inside of your eyelids."

Seriously, Ilde.

"If you're comfortable with it and have her contact number, I can speak with Ms Elena on your behalf. It might be easier than playing back and forth if you'd like to continue working with me about it."

"I asked her to call me but she hasn't yet-- her number is 026 » 190. I'll probably talk to her anyway, but it's...I mean, I'd like to do that, and you'll know what you need to ask her better than I will." It seems reasonable to her; it's wise that she does talk to Elena herself, just for the sake of them both being on the same page about who knows what about ... who and what, but she's not under the impression that she's the most useful person in this situation.

The slight contrition in her voice is probably because of that sharpness, since she's sidling around having to actually respond to it. All right, all right.

All right all right indeed, and he's not trying to kick her when she's down, but it needs to be made clear that he's not the 'fix everyone's dumbassed problems' guy. He needs to be able to expect some kind of awareness from the people around him. And now she knows, so he leaves her be about it.

"Very well." He writes down Elena's number, intending to look up any recent public history she has before he reaches out. "If anything changes, no matter how small, or if you hear from anyone about it, keep me informed. It'll be figured out."

Severus is confident about that, at least.

"I will."

A beat later-- "And I won't do it again."

Admittedly, it's a lesson she might not have thoroughly learned without two different people giving her a short, sharp talk about it, but she's lacking in self-preservation, not intellect. It's easier to convince her not to do something because it'll displease people she likes than because it's dangerous to her.

Putting Severus Snape in the peculiar position of being one of the better influences in her life as she tries to be less of a freewheeling lunatic to avoid being told she's stupid.

Severus Snape is a great fucking influence, okay. He may be a complete prick most of the time but he's also usually right most of the time. (Or so he thinks. Look. Shut up.)

"Good."

So that's that, for now. Severus needs to have a conversation with Elena, and he needs to - well, do some thinking. Doing textbook research isn't an option. He'll decide after he speaks to the vampire if Ilde needs a blood test or not (to look for what? illness, maybe?). Out of respect for her privacy, he won't go telling anyone else without speaking to Ilde first.

"Get some rest."

( open ) show me how to lie

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