[ alina pulls her phone from her pocket. she sniffs. the question makes it easier. this feels almost normal, even if her head is pounding with teary dehydration. ]
[ Still? She bites her tongue on that. Alina has no problem with the Up and the Up feels the same way about her. Down here, her bare neck can cause her grief. And Jess really doesn't want to see the kind of grief Alina can cause them in return. ]
Time Heister's. By LIErs for LIErs. [ It may not be the best pizza around but it comes with the guarantee that no one's spit on it.
She trusts Alina to focus on that for a moment, allowing Jess to step away and grab the chairs. She places them at the desk for a makeshift dinner table, setting them in perpendicular positions rather than across from one another. ]
[ she's awkward on the phone. stilted, too-long pauses and an effort to look at the phone as she speaks even though it's not a video call. she hasn't quite gotten the hang of this. but she places the order and makes the payment and, as she puts her phone away, notices the chairs. ]
[ Her response isn't defensive. Most people would see this place for the dilapidated wreck that it is. To Jess, what it's not is what makes it welcoming. It's not monitored, it's not pretentious, it's not stolen or gifted or borrowed. It's not any of the couches she's crashed on or garages she's stowed her shit. It's hers, even if she doesn't have the legal right to claim that.
It is, however, still cold. She goes to the filing cabinets to gather some empty folders. She finds a metal trash can hiding between the cabinet and the wall, tucked away in the corner. Jess tosses the papers in, then pries free a length of broken baseboard that was coming away from the wall. She returns to the desk where she tears the folders in half and crumples them into balls, dropping them back in the can. The baseboard she snaps into pieces and arranges in a makeshift campfire.
Putting the trash can on the floor between the chairs, she asks Alina, ] Got a light?
You really want an Inferni for this kind of thing.
[ but she looks down at the wastebasket, considers it. enough light can produce enough heat. it's just a matter of triggering the reaction, somehow. alina leans down, elbows on her knees. ]
You might want to look away. [ the light she'll be working with might be blinding. she tries to cup it in her hands, but it leaks through the seams of her fingers like trickling grains of sand. sweat beads on alina's brow, but her skin takes on a warm, healthy glow in spite of it. like the exertion is feeding her, not feeding off of her. ]
[ Jess leans a hip to the edge of the desk, averting her eyes. She can't help but watch Alina's face in case what she's asked of her is too taxing. (And because watching the light bleed from her hands might recall another set of shameful memories.) Everyone's powers work different. Marcos's don't seem to require any effort to use. The Darkling's seem similarly effortless but he does claim to have had hundreds of years to perfect the process. Kisa turns into a damn snake.
The last and only time she saw Alina's in action, curiosity wasn't wasn't her priority.
The light that catches her face accentuates a sort of inner glow Jess can't really put her finger on. Suffice it to say she doesn't end up regretting her request. ]
[ accepting this has taken a while. she was grisha before she met the darkling, before she went to the little palace. she'll be grisha until she dies. there's no helping that. ]
But I hadn't used my power until ... last year? The year before, I guess. [ counting duplicity time. it's hard to figure out how to frame that. ] When I was a kid, I was always really sick. That's what it does to us, hiding it.
[ Nearly a year has passed for them both. Jessica is resigned to counting it. It's wasted, ruined time, regardless of whether or not she'll forget it. It happened. She's been robbed of months of her life before and nothing gets them back. ]
You're damn good for just two years. [ Holding something like that in has to hurt. She won't ask if she hid it on purpose, won't assume either way even though she doubts it (What child chooses to be sick?). Alina has expressed plenty of her burden already. ] I've had mine for eighteen.
Everyone in Ravka was very committed to my instruction.
[ she looks at her hands, rubs her fingers a moment, then smiles up at jess. it's a strained sort of smile. her home only seems to bring those kinds of expressions to her face. ]
To them, I'm a saint. [ the mantle that duplicity has thrust upon her doesn't feel entirely different. an honor, doubling as a yoke. ]
And it's not all my own doing. [ she holds out her hand, lifts her wrist to indicate the fetter of shining sea dragon's scales upon it. they cling so tight to her wrist as to look nearly embedded. a bracelet she's never without, just like the collar of antlers around her neck. ]
These aren't for decoration. They're amplifiers. [ her other hand rests on the stag collar. ] Made from creatures born of Sankt Illya's finger bones. They strengthen Grisha.
[ An impressed huff. She wonders what amplifiers would look like for the people she's met. She can picture similar bracelets on Rand's hands, not like he needs more power when he barely knows what to do with the amount he's already got. Matt and Luke are too nebulous. If the wrong people had their way, they'd probably just jam them full of drugs and see what happened. ]
You arrived with those? [ Awfully kind of the program.
Jess splays her own unadorned hands towards the fire, warmth welling in her palms. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ alina pulls her phone from her pocket. she sniffs. the question makes it easier. this feels almost normal, even if her head is pounding with teary dehydration. ]
I don't know my way around down here.
no subject
Time Heister's. By LIErs for LIErs. [ It may not be the best pizza around but it comes with the guarantee that no one's spit on it.
She trusts Alina to focus on that for a moment, allowing Jess to step away and grab the chairs. She places them at the desk for a makeshift dinner table, setting them in perpendicular positions rather than across from one another. ]
no subject
Homey.
[ ironically put ]
no subject
[ Her response isn't defensive. Most people would see this place for the dilapidated wreck that it is. To Jess, what it's not is what makes it welcoming. It's not monitored, it's not pretentious, it's not stolen or gifted or borrowed. It's not any of the couches she's crashed on or garages she's stowed her shit. It's hers, even if she doesn't have the legal right to claim that.
It is, however, still cold. She goes to the filing cabinets to gather some empty folders. She finds a metal trash can hiding between the cabinet and the wall, tucked away in the corner. Jess tosses the papers in, then pries free a length of broken baseboard that was coming away from the wall. She returns to the desk where she tears the folders in half and crumples them into balls, dropping them back in the can. The baseboard she snaps into pieces and arranges in a makeshift campfire.
Putting the trash can on the floor between the chairs, she asks Alina, ] Got a light?
no subject
[ but she looks down at the wastebasket, considers it. enough light can produce enough heat. it's just a matter of triggering the reaction, somehow. alina leans down, elbows on her knees. ]
You might want to look away. [ the light she'll be working with might be blinding. she tries to cup it in her hands, but it leaks through the seams of her fingers like trickling grains of sand. sweat beads on alina's brow, but her skin takes on a warm, healthy glow in spite of it. like the exertion is feeding her, not feeding off of her. ]
no subject
The last and only time she saw Alina's in action, curiosity wasn't wasn't her priority.
The light that catches her face accentuates a sort of inner glow Jess can't really put her finger on. Suffice it to say she doesn't end up regretting her request. ]
How long have you had them? Your abilities.
no subject
[ accepting this has taken a while. she was grisha before she met the darkling, before she went to the little palace. she'll be grisha until she dies. there's no helping that. ]
But I hadn't used my power until ... last year? The year before, I guess. [ counting duplicity time. it's hard to figure out how to frame that. ] When I was a kid, I was always really sick. That's what it does to us, hiding it.
no subject
You're damn good for just two years. [ Holding something like that in has to hurt. She won't ask if she hid it on purpose, won't assume either way even though she doubts it (What child chooses to be sick?). Alina has expressed plenty of her burden already. ] I've had mine for eighteen.
no subject
[ she looks at her hands, rubs her fingers a moment, then smiles up at jess. it's a strained sort of smile. her home only seems to bring those kinds of expressions to her face. ]
To them, I'm a saint. [ the mantle that duplicity has thrust upon her doesn't feel entirely different. an honor, doubling as a yoke. ]
And it's not all my own doing. [ she holds out her hand, lifts her wrist to indicate the fetter of shining sea dragon's scales upon it. they cling so tight to her wrist as to look nearly embedded. a bracelet she's never without, just like the collar of antlers around her neck. ]
These aren't for decoration. They're amplifiers. [ her other hand rests on the stag collar. ] Made from creatures born of Sankt Illya's finger bones. They strengthen Grisha.
no subject
You arrived with those? [ Awfully kind of the program.
Jess splays her own unadorned hands towards the fire, warmth welling in her palms. ]
no subject
[ she tilts her head to the side. let's not give them too much credit. the fire caught, alina settles back in her seat, sighing. ]
That's the price for seeking power. No matter how righteous the intention.