exsiliumlogs | MISSION: GRAB THE EYEBALLTAUR

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MISSION: GRAB THE EYEBALLTAUR

Date & Time: March 7th, 1994
Location: The MICA campus: Baltimore, Maryland, USA.
Characters: Everyone
Summary: All transports are shipped back to 1994 to steal art from art students. Also, some of them arrive bodyswapped.

The Initiative has timed the incoming waves of Transports to the MICA campus for Freshmen Orientation, but even so, the flood of newcomers gets a few surprised glances. Looks like MICA's up for a major boom in attendance next year, wow. But do some of those freshman look a little old to you? …And do some of them seem to be freaking out a lot more than usual about being in Baltimore?

The cloaking devices, with holograms visible only to the natives, will be blending everyone in with the native 90s fashion senses, and all non-humans will find themselves getting much more tame curious glances than they might back on Exsilium, as they project a human appearance to natives around them. So at least there's that. Just try not to get arrested, hit by cars, or challenged to any break dance competitions as you grab and run off with bizarre works of art, alright? The weirder it looks, the more likely it probably is to be the power source the Initiative needs for the Transporter.

Oh, yeah, and sorry about the body-swap-around. Just deal with that as best you can, because the mission really must go on. Any harried and worried Initiative employee along on the mission that you might be able to find will just sputter a hasty not-really-explanative explanation and hurry away, trading frantic messages with the headquarters in Exsilium. They'll get this all sorted out by the time you get back, don't worry.

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The faintest smile catches her lips. "Maybe. Do you think I should switch my conditioner, though?" It was bad enough being around Asami, within about five minutes she'd made Ellie feel like she needed to go and polish and shine herself up.

"A real grown up." She frowns, just a little, the barest flicker in her expression. "I should find her, later. Tell her not to let the knee get cold." Exsilium is awful for it, the wet and the cold. The Outlands are worse, though Ellie will hardly admit it. It's strange to be in a body that doesn't have the painful knee, to feel like there is softness in her limbs instead of hunger-hardened muscle and skin and bone. It remind her of Robyn and how she changed, in the way that so many things remind her of Robyn, make her chest tighten, breath come shallow. "I'm glad you're still Steph."

As faint as it is, that smile is a relief, "I'll see if I can find a curling iron to bring back with us, too," They can turn Ellie into a princess, it'll be an adventure.

The shift in Ellie's expression, in her breathing, make Steph move closer, kneeling now, one hand curled around the back of Ellie's neck and the other on her knee, "We can go look for her," Together, if Ellie wants, or Steph will leave her to do it alone, whichever she prefers. As for still being herself, her smile twists, "So am I. Don't think anyone would want my body."

The bitterness is dredged up with the reminder of her scars, of the way Vanadi said her name after finding out about them. She might not have a messed up knee, but her body still feels - ruined.

"Watch it. I might start spending all my time in the mirror." Ah, ha. Never.

"Hey." The fingers, paler than her own, less callused, find their anchor in Steph's shirt. Her brow flickers, and though she knows there is a lot she doesn't know, as many secrets and hidden things to Steph as there are to herself (and that is a thing hard to comprehend when someone is so good and so kind), she shakes her head. Finding ways to articulate and form a rebuttal are hard when she doesn't know what she is trying to counter, but she tries anyway. "Anyone'd be lucky to be you for a day, but they wouldn't match up. We all belong in our own skins, yeah? I don't reckon this one'd be too impressed to realise who's body she's got, after the mad chats we've had. "

Was there a point she was trying to make? She can't tell. "There's nothing wrong with your body, but it belongs to you. I'm happy you're in it. It's where you've lived your stories, and where you got to be Steph. No one else could live up to being you. They don't deserve you, or your stories, or all the wonderful and terrible things you've lived through in your body. All right?"

The face is all wrong, but the fingers curled in her shirt are familiar - and she doesn't think too hard about when those little touches between them became familiar, of all things - and the words are so Ellie that for a moment Steph can ignore the strangeness of it all. And the words make her chest feel tight, with gratitude and something else she can't explain.

So when she replies, at first, her tone is light, "I just know I wouldn't wish my joints on anyone," Flippant, dismissive, like that's all she meant by her comment, not all the other bitter things she'd been thinking. It's - true enough, too; Ellie might have a messed up knee, but all the Bats are going to have arthritis by the time they're thirty (Bruce probably already does).

"But..." She pauses, because she wants to say more, something that will seem right in repsonse to all Ellie's words, she just can't work out what, "Thank you."

It's not enough, and the way she's looking at Ellie is apologetic.

"Right. I'll see if I can track down some fish oil capsules, okay? My grandma said those make all the difference." Wrong body or no, she can still play the flippancy game. "Just message me when you need a hand crossing the street, okay?"

It's weird feeling that the way the muscles tug is different from your own. Smiling a smile that isn't yours, muscles trained to makes expressions in different ways, while somehow all those subconscious parts of your brain battle with it. The smile she gives Steph isn't an Ellie smile, but she's still behind it, means it as sincerely as possible. "Don't stress." She gets it; she knows. Words are wonderful and complicated and confusing and so amazing and so entirely likely to fall short at the crucial moment. The urgency in not-her fingers has faded.

"Are you okay?"

"You say that like I don't already take them," Really, Ellie, as if Steph isn't already on a steady supply of assorted vitamins and supplements, just to make sure she's getting everything her body needs. It's probably ironic, the way vigilantes abuse their bodies in some ways, and take care of them so painstakingly in others.

She moves her hands from Ellie's hair to take her hands, gently twining their fingers together, as she considers how to answer that question. Honesty, she promised honesty, "I just had a kinda rough talk with someone, I'll be fine."

So, no, she's not really okay right now, but it's the sort of thing that will pass.

A very small smile, the very tiniest of good-natured eyerolls. "Smartarse."

Ellie isn't going to delude herself that there's some magic wand she can wave to fix it. She knows better, but sometimes just sitting with someone in silence, holding their hands and just being present is enough to help them remember they aren't alone. Sometimes not being alone is the best thing you can get, all you need, all anyone can really give you. Her thumb brushes over the back of Steph's hand, and that's the only move she makes. She's staying.

"Yeah. You will be." She could say that she's there whenever Steph needs her, that she's got her back, but it feels awkward and unnecessary. She hopes Steph knows it, even with her bad temper and explosions.

For all her frustration at the way Ellie treated Fi, Steph can't find i in herself to be annoyed at her right now, not when she just feels so much better around Ellie. The ease of the comfort, of the way they've settled into patterns with each other, has made it so much easier to cope with everything else that's going on around her.

She doesn't want to think about what she'd be like now, without a month of Ellie's presence.

Which is why, instead of bringing up the whole Fi thing, she just smiles, "Screw the mission, we should go shopping. There's heaps here we can't exactly get back in Exsilium."

Bras. She wants bras that aren't as horrificly expensive as the ones in the city.

"Oh my God, Steph." She's laughing, surprised by the sudden change of subject. "You're a shocker." Meant in the very best sense, because-- well, because she's too sentimental, really. She's not dismissive, though. There's something that sounds fun about shopping, being silly, doing normal things. "Do you even have any American cash on you?" Bras would be good. Ellie is tired of only have one bra. But, actually: "it's gonna be difficult to get anything that fits my proper body, too."

With an amused huff, she shakes her head. "Is it corny that I want to go sightseeing a bit, too? Is there anything to sightsee, here? I've heard about Baltimore in movies, but I don't know anything about it."

"I've got like fifty bucks," She always carries emergencies cash, and she'd looked through what she had when she first arrived, figuring that about half of it is from the right time, even if it's not the right universe, "It shouldn't be too hard to get some more, if we find a bar I can hustle a little pool to get us some extra money."

Steph is not the best crime fighter, but her other thought was to find some drug dealers and steal their money, and she's not sure if that's better or worse.

"We can make a guess at what'll fit you, and if anything needs to be tailored I can manage that," This is partly a Bat thing, and partly the fact that she's been sewing since she was old enough to actually use one.

Her smile softens a little at that admission, "There's a pretty big aquarium, I think, that might be cool to visit," Apparently they're turning this mission into a tourist excursion.

"You're practically rolling in it." Such sarcasm, but so fondly meant. "I can be a graceful, elegant distraction while you fleece some poor buggers of their cash. Too bad it's not the seventeen hundreds, we'd have been the best highwaymen." On some level she is sure she should feel bad for joking about robbing people when she is in the body of one of the most polite, idealistic people she's sure exists. On the other hand, exactly that is what makes it funny.

She raises her eyebrows a little. "Really? Careful, Steph, or I'll decide you're the perfect woman," she replies, grinning a little as she elbows Steph's side. "Throwing people across rooms and sewing buttons. I'm glad my mum only ever got the second half, I bet there were times I would've gotten tossed about for being a pain in the backside otherwise." For once she's talking about her parents and it isn't painful. It's good. Nice, to be able to indulge.

"Yeah? Fish are pretty all right. They're delicious with chips, too."

Ellie is the literal worst person.

"Maybe we'll get a chance to be highwaymen, who knows where we'll end up next," Steph is also having trouble imagining someone who looks like Snow being a highwayman, but she can see her and Ellie doing it. Robin Hood, like they said before. (Oddly, though, she's looking forward to being partners in pseudo-crime).

In response to the elbow in the side, she punches Ellie's shoulder - lightly, because she doesn't want to bruise someone else's body - and makes a face at her, "What, are you thinking of marrying me off?" It's nice to hear Ellie talk about her parents, and she manages to keep the wince from her expression at the joke.

As for the fish and chips, she just shakes her head, "You're terrible."

"I hope I get to have a mask and a cape. I reckon I could make it work." Is that her teasing the Batgirl? ... Surely not.

Silly Steph, her expression says. Silly, silly Steph. "If I marry you off then you can't fix my clothes. I'll just keep you for myself." Ellie rubs her (temporary) arm, pouting in a way that probably looks completely off on Snow's face. "Fair go. Serves me right for giving you a compliment."

She can't help herself. "Yeah. It took you this long to figure it out?"

Her eyebrows go up, a hint of a smirk on her lips, "Careful what you say, I might be tempted to make you my sidekick," Not that she hasn't already considered at least investing in some body armour for Ellie, although they can't buy that on this particular trip.

"Only if that means you're the bread-winner," In this apparent future where they're a not-quite-married couple. She's not even going to touch on the compliment part, just rolling her eyes instead.

"I've known since I met you, sometimes it jsut bears repeating."

"Yeah? But I'd need a name, or... whatever it is. Codename? Nomme de vigilante?" She chuckles a bit, shaking her head. "The accent might give me away."

Hah. "Okay, sounds fair. Never pegged you for a housewife, though. Can you make a good roast?" Serious issues, serious questions.

What was that about gentle punching? It's flimsy even by friendly standards, and she winds up more just leaning against Steph. "You're pretty terrible, too."

"Codename is generally what we call it, and I'm sure we could come up with something," A grin and a shrug, "And I could teach you to speak without the accent."

That last part would be the more difficult one, mostly because Steph is fine at teaching physical skills, but the other stuff is a little more difficult.

She makes sure to look mock indignant, "I'd make a great housewife," No, she probably wouldn't, and she can't keep up the look before she laughs, "And sure, I can do a decent roast dinner."

This conversation is strange, and she lets Ellie lean against her for a moment before jostling her gently, "It's why we make a good pair."

Ellie grins. "Possumgirl? The Platypus?" These are amazing suggestions. "Mmm. That'd be fun, actually. It could even be helpful for other missions the Initiative sends us on." Not that she's committed to helping them, not yet. Not ever, could be. "I'm a good learner."

Unfortunately, she is not terribly good at containing her laughter. "I bet. You'd just love cooking and cleaning all day. It;d suit you."

Hmph. Don't jostle, she's comfortable. "You're really cheesy."

"I'm a shit teacher, though," Not for the first time, she wishes Babs were here, "But I'll give it a shot, and I am gonna get you some body armor." Just informing Ellie of that small fact.

Ellie's laughter just makes Steph laugh more, "As long as I can still go out at night," It seems a fair compromise.

"And you aren't?" Really, Ellie, Steph's heard you talk, "And hey, don't get comfy, you've got a body to find and then we've got sightseeing to do."

Excuse her, Steph, she's just bumping shoulders gently. "Oh, sweetheart. Careful, people might think you care." And, a moment: "You're not shit. Now I know how to punch people properly." And the world will thank you, Stephanie.

"Only with my permission. And no reading, that sorta stuff does things to a woman's mind. Perversion, and that." Sad thing was there were still a few people in Wirrawee who were really pretty backwards.

"Nu uh." What was that incoherent sound of protest? "I'm tired." Even so, she straightens up rubbing her (Snow's? This was still weird, it felt wrong under her fingers) face. "Al right."

"That's different," Punching people and faking accents are entirely, though there's something like pride in her tone over the fact that Ellie can punch people properly now. It'd be alarming, when Steph had realized how often Ellie relied on luck to get her out of scrapes, "And of course I care."

She just laughs, shaking her head at that, because she can imagine it all too well. Not from Ellie, of course, but still.

"That's just in your head," She imagines it is, too, since she'd put good money on Snow's body getting more rest than Ellie's body does. Which is why Steph stands, offering a hand to Ellie to help her up.

She likes when Steph's voice has that proudness to it. It sounds better than when she sounds tired or sad or self-deprecating. Steph's like a wild cat, and wild cats were never meant to be sad. (Sometimes, Ellie wondered if her thoughts would make more sense if she wasn't so tired. Others, she rather liked their strange turns.) "You're getting sentimental on me." She liked it. Sentimental was good.

"Mental fatigue is as real as real as muscle fatigue," she drones in the manner of someone who has been lectured repeatedly. Did therapy count as lecturing? No, mostly it was listening, but there were some things Andrea really loved to hard on about. And never mind that she just admitted to her general state of fatigue, probably not helped by all the energy she burned wrestling with things in her mind. "Hey, you don't think-- no, that'd make no sense," she adds in a quiet mutter. It'd make zero sense for Snow to get caught up with her nightmares, but she worries at her lip with her teeth. "Christ. It's a worry." She's grateful for the hand helping her up, even if she'd have liked to just tug Steph back down to the ground with her.

"I'm always sentimental," That's something of an exaggeration, said with amusement, though there's some truth in it, too. For all that she's generally kept herself distant from people here, once someone gets under her skin she does get sentimental. She might not show it all the time, but she cares deeply about Ellie.

"Even if it's not even your brain?" It's meant to be a bit of a joke, but comes out more like speculation. She's never been particularly religious, but she comes from a world where gods and resurrection are common things, she's not sure how she feels about things like souls. Did the transporter switch peple's souls, or change the imprint, the impulses in the brain that make up a person. Or was it something else entirely? It's hard to think about.

Which is why, once Ellie is up, Steph takes the distraction in the form asking, "What's a worry?"

"Yeah, yeah." Please. If she's really honest, she enjoys the sentimentality, and being able to indulge her own around Steph. If she were being honest... which is is, most of the time, but not when she's enjoying being contrary.

"Just, uh. I mean, obviously my mind is over here, but you know there's always that stuff about muscle memory and reflexes and stuff like that." There's certain things she doesn't talk about, much; none of them do. She's not sure she even really has a word for them. She just tries to ignore they happen. "The terrors. If she smells plastic burning, or something." On a bad day, that can be enough to send her into shut down. "Nevermind. That wouldn't make any sense."

Perhaps not that far from the things Steph had found hard to think about, after all.

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MISSION: GRAB THE EYEBALLTAUR

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