asgardeventide | 03 [Accidental Video/Text]

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03 [Accidental Video/Text]

[The feed starts with an image of a man dressed in a black suit sitting in a chair, unaware that he is being filmed. While the post is under Mary Clarissa Christie's name, the only one that can be seen in it is that man as he's shifting uncomfortably, occasionally mumbling something to himself. After a minute or two, he finally came to a decision and turned to the bracelet to seemingly send a message, before realizing that it had filmed him this whole time. About to say something in response, he stopped before the voice came out, choosing to close it silently instead.

Finally, about an hour after the feed is cut, there's a text message sent as a follow-up.]

Would anyone happen to know of a way to end a curse as soon as possible?

(ooc: Mary and Charlotte got hit with the curse that swap their face with someone else! Tags will be coming from both of them)

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Not yet, but if you find one, I'd like to know.

Yes, of course. I will contact the network right away if there's any change here.

In the meantime, I guess all that's left is to ask if you need anything.

I appreciate that offer, thank you. But I should be all right if I just stay in my room until it passes.

I hope that works!

I hope so as well.

But regardless of my situation, it has been a while since we last talked. Have you been doing well, Conan?

It has! Things have been busy but I'm okay. I talked to someone from your world, Christie-san.

Well, I suppose that's natural considering your work, but I'm glad to hear that. 

Oh? Who did you talk to?

Colonel Moran.

I see. She can be a bit difficult at times, but she's actually a good person, really.

How do you know her?

She was one of the people who helped me back when I was in London. I owe a lot to her.

It must be a relief to know she's here then!

Yes, it really is.

What about you though? Is there anyone from back home with you right now?

He's not someone I knew before Asgard, but Kiato-niichan is from the same world as I am.

... Mary?

[She starts, tone hesitant -- that man wasn't anyone she'd ever expected to see again, and definitely not with (in the same room as? using the bracelet of?) her best friend, though his own hesitance does strike her as odd. Regardless, she calls out to Mary -- and then stops, when she realizes the voice is not her own.

So she shuts the feed off and after a moment, sends a text as well:]

Mary, are you there?

[For a moment, Mary forgot whose body she's currently having and almost answered back as well. That voice, that face, yes, she misses them all. So much that she wishes she could see them again alongside with that man and Moran. Still reeling from the shock of seeing her second mother figure again, Mary can't really think straight and didn't bother to check the name of the sender of the text until she is about to answer it. If this place has chose to give her his appearance, then her friend could have been subjected to the same thing as well. Still wanting to believe that Jane is safe and sound, merely with her friend right now, however, Mary chooses to cling to that possibly for now.]

Yes, I am. Are you with someone right now, Charlie?

No... there's no one here.

[She thinks for a moment to ask what exactly's going on, because this isn't her voice or her body at all, but...

There are much more pressing matters at hand, here.]

Are you with someone, Mary?

[Yes, that's... what she should have expected. It is really too good to be true. Still, she can't help but be disappointed to accept it. Despite her feelings, however, she can't let her friend hanging like that and immediately replies after a pause.]

No, I'm not. It's... a bit complicated right now though.

...Mas...ter?

[It's him. The emotion circuit nearly grinds to a halt, like the skipped beat of a heart, when she sees that familiar face flicker over the feed. The next moment, it's grinding harsher than ever, gears overworking and her mind races, studying the man. All thoughts of imposters, or fakes vanish from her thoughts: this time, it must be him. It can only be him.

She recognizes everything about him. From the dark, polished leather of his glove, to the silk lining of his coat, the rich timbre of his voice: it's far too good to be a costume or a duplicate. He's finally come. Her patience has succeeded, she has finally been rewarded for all her troubles.

James Moriarty, her master, has at last returned to her.]

[Electricity sears through her circuits, threatening to override common sense and basic speaking abilities, but she must remain calm. For her master's sake, she must remain collected. Her gloved hands are trembling, as she tucks them tightly into her pockets. He must tired, he must be disoriented, irritated, annoyed—he must be looking for her.

Or perhaps, like the golden-eyed girl, he is from a different time. Perhaps she is already broken and non-functioning in his era. Perhaps he is still enamored with that detestable witch. That woman, who forces her emotions to run rampant, her wires to burn, to misbehave, to break.

Perhaps he doesn't miss her at all.]

[It takes a moment to switch to video, but she can't speak. Her tongue feels limp and she can hardly get anything out other than his title. She's still too surprised to be coherent, but at last, her muscles remember for her and she raises one arm in a stiff salute.

Firstly, he will want an explanation.]

I request the coordinates to your location, my master.

Edited (leaving it video for now, so Charlie can jump in ) 2012-06-20 16:12 (UTC)

[In a sense, this is probably what she has been afraid of the most. To have the face of the one Mary wants to meet for so long is already this discontenting to her already. But to give false hope to Moran, the one who loves him so desperately and passionately that she would give up her tomorrow for him, that's something much more painful than what Mary's experiencing. Pondering on how to break this new, Mary finally sends a private message to the other woman after ten minutes or so. Moran might get angry-- She might not even believe her, but it's better to be honest rather than keep her in the dark.

And while she's uncomfortable with the idea of meeting others with his face, if it really does come to it, she'll tell Moran straight in person.]

He's not here, Moran. This is just another cruel trick done by this place.

[Except Moran never receives that text. After five minutes of waiting, she has to wonder what is delaying her master's reply to her. Tucking her bracelet into her trousers pocket, she heads down the stairs, rushing in hurried steps towards the nearest neighboring district. Rarely is she impatient, but M takes priority above all else. This cannot wait.

When Hel district yields nothing, she heads towards Mary's district, with the nest of cables and wires where her heart had been feeling heavier and heavier. He would go there before searching for his own weapon? ...No, it was to be expected. The golden-eyed girl is who interests him the most. Little by little, he's changed somehow.

She doesn't like it.

At last, she glimpses the edge of that familiar coat, which normally smells of cigar smoke and blood, or occasionally the perfume of other women. His expression is the same as usual, stern and stiff.]

...My master.

Edited 2012-06-21 22:47 (UTC)

[Still waiting for Moran's reply and contemplating on what to reply next, Mary continues to rest in the chair in her room. That is, until she sees someone approaching.]

--Moran!? I...

[Again, the voice that comes out, while familiar, is still not her own and Standing up, Mary can't help but stumble on her words as she tries to think what she can say to the other woman. Averting her eyes from Moran as she does so]

[This confirmed it: M had gone to Mary's district, and Mary's room, before having even inquired about her. ...Is that a note of surprise in his voice?

No, just her imagination. Master wouldn't be surprised to see her. He wouldn't forget her.]

Yes, master. ...James.

[While she keeps a distance between the two of them, Mary takes a step forward, doing her best to be accustomed to this body as she tries to maintain eye contact with Moran. It's... uncomfortable--even painful to see the other woman like this. As if Mary was intruding on something private even if that wasn't her intention.]

I... I am sorry, Moran. I'm... not him.

[Silence.

She looks closer, examining him. It's too good, it's better than perfect, it's better than any imitation or imposter. It can't be anyone else but him.

But M never jokes. He certainly never apologizes to her. Which means—]

...It's alright, Mary Clarissa Christie.

[And she turns on heel, back straight, hands stiff at her sides, intending to take her leave as quickly as possible, and perhaps later gather the broken remnants of her dignity. What a fool she is, making such a basic mistake.]

Wait, please, I...

[Truth to be told, Mary honestly doesn't know why she suddenly moves forward, grabbing Moran's arm before she could leave. She knows that the longer Moran sees her with this face, hear her with this voice, would only cause the other woman more pain. Still, she can't let Moran go alone like that. Not after everything they've been through.]

...Regardless of this place's... tricks, sooner or later, he'll come here. And if he doesn't, then we'll find him together, I promise.

[Comical doll, pathetic toy, such a blind little girl she is, thinking the impossible to be true. How could she be so insane, so delusional that her wires can still spark white-hot at the feeling of gloved hands roughly taking her by the arm, even though it's not him; right now, his voice and his words are only controlled by Mary like a puppet. They ought to bring her no comfort, no pleasure to hear him again and see him again.

Her muscles go rigid when she is grabbed, still refusing to look at her master's face, to see another in his eyes. No, Mary's eyes, her eyes. Her hand lays atop those familiar fingers, prying them loose with firm strength.

Together, she had said. She wanted to find him as well, and as always, James would choose Objective A over his weapon.

Like always.]

My master will decide when he would like to be located. You are important to him...

['You are important to him, and that is the only reason you are still important to me.']

So avoid unnecessary action, Mary Clarissa Christie.

[Letting go of her arm, Mary tries to give her gaze steady toward Moran as she gives her reply. Being forced to hear M's voice like this, to be touched by his hands, all the while knowing they weren't really his, was probably nothing but torture for Moran. It might have been better for her to just comply to Moran's wish and stay silent as she lets the other woman go.

But, even if that might please Moran for now, Mary can't do that. She won't lie anymore. To herself and to everyone she cares for. After all, while she might have been just a tool to him before, if there's something she can do for the people important to her, then she won't hesitate to do it.

Even if they weren't welcomed in the first place.]

I am sorry, but I... can't do that.

[Of course. Refusal, refusal, refusal. She will always sacrifice common sense for blind heroism. She will always keep trying, rather than giving up.

But she isn't in the mood to deal with her stubborness today, not while such syrupy words are spewed in M's voice, from M's lips. She turns stiffly towards the door, holding her arm away as if scorching.]

...Don't forget. You made a contract with my master. If you choose to break it, that is your choice.

[Yeah, he's only going on his counterpart's response here, but he doesn't quite believe it is her Moriarty. Just a hunch, you know. The name and all. He's terribly amused, though, and he's trying very hard not to laugh.]

Oh, do tell me that's not what he looks like. [HE HAS AN EYE-PATCH COME ON.]

It is not your place to speak that way of my master.

Isn't it? Why for? It's become my place to speak to you that way, so why not him? If it truly is your Moriarty, of course. What makes you so certain it is him to begin with?

[...He's hit a sore spot. She isn't sure, one hundred percent, that it's him. But she so badly wants to believe it's him, that she refuses to contemplate any other option.

If the man before her is that imposter again, she would know. The voice would be different, the clothing would be off, there would be some kind of hint.]

You may speak to me that way. However, my master is different.

If you have a similar relationship with your Moriarty, you should understand.

Edited 2012-06-20 16:44 (UTC)

I believe you'll agree that most times I've spoken of the Professor, it hasn't been with utmost respect.

[His relationship with Professor Moriarty is a bit more complicated than he lets on. He admires and respects the man, but still finds him to be the most hateable creature to ever slither through the streets of London. Poking fun at him behind his back has practically become a past-time.

...Still, she'd probably be right if he ever did showed up.]

You would not speak to him that way personally.

[If he valued his life, he would watch his tongue carefully around her master. Unlike his employer—nothing but an ill-tempered old man, with far too much idle time—M is more than competent, and unforgiving of those who brand themselves his enemy.

She herself knows how terrifying he can be, even if she had never been the object of his wrath.]

[Yeah, she's right there. He'd be dead and Moriarty would still find a way to make him suffer in the afterlife. Brilliant way to go.]

Damn good thing I haven't been speaking to him that way personally, eh?

[Well, she did just see another Moriaty before. It shouldn't be a surprise to see another Moran here. Still, she has to do a double take before registering his display name before answering. Especially after she saw his conversation with the Moran she knew.]

Perhaps. It doesn't concern you though.

Edited 2012-06-21 14:26 (UTC)

[And that's not even the Moriarty from his world...which may or may not be a good thing, given how Sebastian's been speaking about him. Maybe he should be making these messages private.]

I think you'll find it is.

What's become of his eye, then? Indoorsman like Moriarty, trip and take a fall on his telescope, did he?

Edited 2012-06-21 16:50 (UTC)

[...Well, since he is a Moran, she can't actually deny it. She doesn't want to concede like that though.]

While this is indeed James' appearance, he's still not the same person as the one you knew, is he? And even if you share a name with her, the same goes for you, too. 

But, no, I don't think so. He's not that type, anyway.

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