2019-12-13 - Babbling on the Beach


Some Lady (Zatanna) and Saoirse meet up at a park

Log Info:

Storyteller: None
Date: Fri Dec 13 03:13:12 2019
Location: Jones Beach

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Theme Song



Saoirse is floating..yes, that's floating along the waterline. About 4 feet above it she lazily floats vertically downwards towards it. She's wearing a red jacket with fluffy faux fur at the hood that lags behind her. A slow spin as she moves along she twirls at about 2 degrees a second, a lax turn in no particular hurry or rush. "It's pretty chilly out here today, and for a beach..you know, it's not very clean." she commentates to herself.

Well, that's something you don't see every d— oh, no, wait, yes you do see that every day. Maybe not that SPECIFIC something, but still, basically that, so Zatanna doesn't gape or anything. She just observes the spectacle from a dozen feet back, hands deep in the pockets of one of her prettier winter coats (the wine-colored one), thinking. Something about this seems off, proper rum. Under normal circumstances, she'd suspect that odd twirling and self-conversation were signs of possession, but these days? Could just be a weirdo with flight powers, or a super having some kind of mental episode. For now, Zatanna contents herself to observe. If something is wrong, there's no point making it worse with a confrontation.

Saoirse spins eventually and her fingertips brush against the water. "Oh, that's chilly!" she recoils softly, shaking out her hand. "Mmmn. Well..the beach during winter is really not very fun. Though maybe there's cotten candy at that arcade over there."

The curvy blonde flips inverted with her feet up at about a 90 degree angle, her hair staying straight with her body, or in otherwords swaying upward at that angle. Her accent is unmistakenly Irish. She continues to float backward as she now turns her attention to Zatanna "Oh! Hello! Were you following me? Are you going to rob me? You're kind of pretty to be a robber, but I don't want to make an assumption and say you can't be a pretty thug. I don't have much money, but I have marshmallows in my pocket. They're sealed, because I get plenty of them - would you like a marshmallow?"

Zatanna smiles wryly. "Honey, I'm pretty sure you have nothing to steal. No, I was just watching the show." That's a lie, but it's a well-delivered one, given calmly and with a hint of amusement, no dropping of the eyes. One of the perks of being a magician is you learn to lie professionally. Zatanna observes this seemingly human woman, thinking. Whatever she is, she's not human. There are certain forms of dementia that would make a person surprised that water is cold in winter, but this woman doesn't fit the profile…

"I'm good on marshmallows, thanks. What's your name?"

Saoirse blinks "I don't? But how would you know? I do have some money, but I don't take much out because I've heard that the city is filled with hoodlums." She slowly, so ever so slowly moves at 1 degree a second or so to slowly right herself and come in front of Zatanna to float about a foot above the ground in front of her. "I'm Saoirse. Sear-Shea. People usually have trouble pronouncing it. I was here before at least once. I can almost remember some of it but not quite. I've got what you call non-linear thinking, though my sister Michelle usually just refers to it as Oh Jesus Christ!."

Zatanna looks up, up, up at this woman. She notices no hand has been offered to shake, so she doesn't offer one either. There are a lot of clues dropped in that last exchange, but she doesn't have the pieces to put them together yet, so she just smiles pleasantly. "Must make it hard to talk with people," she observes, in the tones of someone complaining about weather they're not actually fussed about.

Saoirse hmmns. "Well..it kind of does. I used to be in a wheelchair without any ability to talk with anyone or take care of myself. Then I got better. Then some stuff happened and I kind of died. That's the most accurate depiction I can think of. But then I got better, but everything was all jumbled again and I had to relearn how to talk and do things all over again. So well..I guess I'm not really the hero of my own story, I'm just the bystander that keeps learning how to live normally again. Though I guess I don't really do normal very well. I fail a lot at it."

That explains a lot, Zatanna thinks cynically. No point letting that show, though. Saoirse doesn't know any better. "I see. I'm sorry you've had such a hard time of it," she says up to the flying woman. Her neck is starting to ache a little bit from this angle, but she can keep it up a while longer, so she bears it stoically.

Saoirse flutters down to her feet, reaching out to grab hold of Zatanna's coat to steady herself, a fair bit unsteady when her feet touch, but she'll keep holding (but lighter) if she's allowed to connect. "Well.." she smiles softly. "It's really not a hard time. I'm not sure if you could say I was given a gift or something was done to me. Choice was removed from, however I wouldn't have been able to make the choice if presented. Becuase of it I was able to grow up, I met a beautiful girl in school and she introduced me to what love was. Tragedy did happen, but it's really my own making. I couldn't let people become like me..sort of human, sort of not. So..well. I gave of myself. It was pretty scary dying. I wasn't the same person afterwards that I had become. Sometimes when there's a big change those around you just can't handle it anyore. They might say, go back to Mexico where they were from. Some may hold you tight metaphorically. Not an actual holding or hugging, but they try to keep watch over you to make sure nothing else really bad happens. Sometimes they remember..they just really liked marshmllows. From when they couldn't talk to the outside world, it was a fun treat to chew on and they remember fond feelings of yummy delight and fun." Releasing one hand (if it connected) she'll point at herself "That part's me. I like Marshmallows, because they are yummy, fun, delicious, and make me feel warm inside. Not actual warm, but with feelings of delight."

Zatanna tenses and damn near lays a palm-thrust across Saoirse's collarbone to free herself, but she practices grim restraint and submits to being used as furniture. After all, she expected no more, did she? She sets her jaw and accepts her role in this conversation as a prop. "Marshmallows sound fun," she agrees neutrally. "Like you're reconnecting with yourself through sense memory."

Saoirse hmmns. "Well..kind of? It's kind of more like..well. Do you want me to explain what it's like? It's kind of technical, and some people don't like technicals. I love technicals, ooooh boy do I ever love definitions!" She slowly releases Zatanna's coat, unaware she almost took one to the collarbone. "Oh, look at that, I'm being normal!" she whispers to herself as she's standing. "I never did quite learn how to walk well."

"Sure, go ahead," Zatanna offers. She is at least a little curious to know if she'll understand any of it.

Saoirse nods "Okay, here goes. It's kind of like if you were injected with little teeny tiny nano robots that were meant to rebuild your body's cells to reprogram it to work like a normal person's, or better. But along the way someone, maybe your sister, had them programmed to develop your body but with the overall goal of keeping you human. Then you had a big laser cannon meant for space platforms and you overpowered it and shot it off to stop something really terrible from happening. Maybe you might be successful, but since you were holding it on your shoulder it completely cooked every cell you had in your head, melted your arm away, and also made your reactor fall out because it overheated and burned out of your chest, then you fell hundreds, maybe more feet and hit the water. When your body recovers, those little nanoguys need to figure out how to rebuild your brain. It never got down how it worked - it just didn't work like normal, assumptions were made. So they did the best they can do putting it back together. And your arm grows back, you work with physical therapists to learn how to talk again, and that's just kind of how it goes."

Saoirse hmmns. "I think I might've skipped some steps in there, but that's okay, I think you get the idea of it."

"I dunno, the metaphor is pretty esoteric," Zatanna says ironically, unable to resist the urge. "But hey. Good for you getting over it."

Saoirse nods "I used to talk to bloggers and stuff back when I first got better. After the incident I don't though. My sister is Bionic Girl, she's a superhero that is a government contractor. I stay with her till I get a job and my own place. There can be good in every bad thing. Even someone like me, whom is as uninteresting and as much of a failure in life can put thier mind to a task and complete it when they have to, even if that cost is great. I've thought a lot about if I'm human, and what humanity is. I've come to the conclusion that I think Humanity is hope. Humanity is the hope that we can reach down and find the beauty and strentgh in one another in the darkest of moments, when it really matters. To be human is to suffer, it's to be filled with joy. Humanity is pain, it's a painful existance. But that's what makes it worth the adventure to be on."

Zatanna Zatara nods at Saoirse. "Kind of an antinatalist viewpoint with a twist."

Saoirse looks confused for a moment. "I don't know what that word means. I would love a definition!" She tilts her head a little "You seem like a pretty nice person, would you like to have coffee sometime in a coffee shop? If you don't like coffee, you could have hot cocoa or tea I'm sure! Or soda, I could bring you a soda too!"

"It's a philosophical belief that procreation is evil, because life necessarily contains pain; which means a parent is subjecting their children to pain without the child's consent. One of those tautologically true but realistically useless belief systems." Zatanna shrugs. "Not really worth worrying about it unless you just like philosophy. Anyway, sure, we could get coffee some time, but for now I have to bolt." She finds a scrap of paper in her purse and writes her number on it, but not her name. She's curious (perhaps cruelly, though on her end it feels like it has no special emotional weight attached to the act) how long it will take Saoirse to notice she never asked Zatanna's name.

Saoirse tucks the paper into her pocket "You forgot to write the name on it but it's okay, you can tell me when your ready." Then she cna use the labeler to label the paper. Ooo. "It was nice meeting you." She floats slowly back above the ground, about a foot "Ah, there, that's better." she comments to herself softly.

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