Jun 15 21:37:50 106 PA - Ema Can't catch a break!
From Chronicles
Jun 15 21:37:50 106 PA - Ema Can't catch a break!
Night has gripped Kingsdale, and the library is fairly empty, only a few die hards wander through the many stacks of books or pour through selections at the table. Ema is in the latter group, a few books piled at her side as she reads from a small hard covered book, a finger moving quickly over the page as she keeps her spot. She seems comfortable, and blissfully unaware of what is to come.
Rasputin is at a large table, surrounded by stacks of books. He is currently taking notes, by hand, with a ink well of some kind. He is cross referencing several open books at the moment.
Thud. A book lands heavily beside her, labeled DSM VI. Updated, expanded, dusty. A thick-built man climbs into the next chair over, his broad chest swelling beneath a padded grey shirt. It looks like part of armor, though the rest is likely stored elsewhere. Who'd need it, at the library? Little metal bands hold here and there, mating cuffs for the gauntlets and the like that are missing. He stares down at the book, scarred face curled into a faint frown, and pale blue eyes look up at the lighting before he turns it open. The writing is small, densely-packed, words long and often latin. Those blues flicker aside at what the small Asian woman's reading, curiously, as Sebastien flips his page.
"Orations of Demosthenes" is her book de jour this evening, though her finger stops moving as her head turns slowly, eyes narrowng at the interruption. Her un-parted lips move as her tongue slides across her teeth, and she seems to be on the verge of saying something. She opts not too, seeming to remember where she is, and her large black eyes fall back to page, finger resuming its movement.
Rasputin continues his work, as if he didn't have any clue anyone else was in the area. Every now and then he mutters to himself softly in Russian. Then, he pushes a book aside and then pulls over another and adds it to those he is reading. Sebastien flips nearly to the back, where the link between psychosis and paranormal abilities is discussed. He keeps turning pages, reading a bit here, skimming a bit there, until he utters, as if he'd read it, "Emayn?" He blinks, staring at his book, a frown on his features. His voice is laced with a soft accent, the kind that softens consonants and turns vowels funny. The kind heard in the North, outside of Quebec. "Just 'Emayn?' Nothing else? Like ... Milkbone, from the cartoon?" He looks aside at the woman, blue eyes meeting hers.
A furrowed brow accompanies narrowed eyes this time as her head turns, her free hand coming up towards her face, index finger almost pressing against her lips as she "Shhhhhhhh's" the man next to her. She considers him more seriously this time, eyes moving quickly as she appears to appraise him. Her lips twitch, almost a smirk as she seem to peg him, but it lasts only an instant before she goes back to her book.
A soft spew of harsh Russian curse words flies forth from Rasputin's bearded lips. He swears to himself and pushes all of the books away from him. Closes all of them. Then, resets the entire table over the course of a few minutes. With another set of about 100 books. He then sits down, breaths in a few times, and begins again.
"No? Well. You don't need to talk," Sebastien continues, in a quiet conversational tone unlikely to draw the ire of the librarians, "but you do need to listen. Honestly, I don't care if you beat up Leonard, and Vixen has been a thorn in my ass since she rolled into this town. Now, what you *have* done, Mademoiselle Emayn, you have somehow convinced Monsieur Leonard that what the two of you did was consensual, that it was only boxing, and that he should want to come back." Sebastien lets that hang a moment, frowning down at his book. "I hear you are a powerful psychic of some sort, and I will give Monsieur Leonard the benefit of the doubt; he is not a retarded lemming. When you do this, you endanger all of us who have these powers. You threaten public opinion of us. You threaten our jobs. You threaten our homes. There are more of us than you, Mademoiselle Emayn." He looks up, a deadly serious look on his face. "And no matter how good you are, some of us will be better. So stop. You can beat him up, but cut the mind tricks."
Ema looks over then, "Oh, get over yourself, Sir Whinesalot," her book closes and is added to her pile, which she scoots over in front of her, "Is this Chi-Town? I may or may not have an ability, so lets all just assume I'm using them for nefarious reasons?" she grabs her books and stands, "Leonard is an idiot, and thats all. Not that I need to explain myself, but I'd never fuck with his mind, like he did to mine with his magic," she almost spits the words, her voice has also started to rise as does her level of annoyance, "What happened with us, was no doubt out of guilt for what an ass he is." she waves a hand, books held to her chest as she goes to find another, less crowded, area to sit at.
Rasputin mutters to himself, "Da, da, daaa." He continues to write down notes, dipping his pen every so often. His hands are flying now, taking mad notes based on the two or three books he has infront of him at the moment.
Sebastien quirks an eyebrow as he's so addressed, a faint smirk slipping across his lips before it fades, with everything else, into a blend of amusement and contempt. His left hand snaps out like a cobra, wrapping about her upper arm like a vice. His hand easily wraps about her upper arm as he stares up, blues flashing, "This is not Chi-town, mademoiselle. This is Kingsdale. This is my town, so can it. I can't take you to the authorities for what you do. They would begin to wonder about all psychics. But what I *can* do is cut every pretty look of your cute little face. I am faster, and stronger, and more determined than you. So stop it, or you'll spend the rest of your days looking like me."
"So not a Knight at all? Just a bully?" she sneers at you, "Picking on a girl who's done nothing wrong. We fought, meat against meat, he agreed. I offered unrestricted combat, he refused. I didn't do anything else, so unless you have some proof," she pulls her arm away from you, her strength more than up to the task, "Though if your looking for a fight, I'd be happy to oblige." she grins wickedly, something feral flashing across her features as she stares at you, "What the fuck is wrong with everyone in this city? I didn't -DO- anything!"
Rasputin's ears flick ever so lightly, as the hushed words of violence flow over their them. He sets down his ink pen, with the utmost of care. Then, turns his head slightly and looks to the two individuals talking in such heated vocabulary. He slides his chair slightly to face the two of you, and lifts a single finger, "Shhh." He hisses softly.
"A bully does something because he likes it," Sebastien replies with a pleasant smile, letting go as soon as he feels the sharp tug of her arm. "A knight is impartial. He lets people decide their fate." He looks up to the struck finger, his eyes narrowing, and he continues, "just as you now may decide yours. You have one strike against you. Do not collect another." Sebastien's eyes widen, shaking his head at Raputin, and he pushes his chair back. Rising slowly, he towers over little Emayn, and just as ponderously does he turn his shoulders, walking back towards the entrance. The DSM VI he leaves behind, open to psychoses induced by the possession of psychic talent.
The look on Ema's face in undeniable, barely contained rage seething just below the surface. Muscles in her arms and neck clench and unclench, and she seems like she might just attack this man here in the library. The Shhhh from the familiar dwarf seems to bring her back down to reality though as she frowns, "Just tell me how to get a few more strikes, Jackass, and I promise you, i'll have them wracked up by tonight." she turns, looking over at rasputin as she offers him an apologetic shrug, "Sorry!"
Rasputin shakes his head, tugs on his beard and sighs softly saying, "Net, net." He turns back to his work, ignoring the quarreling muscle headed lovers. He breaths a few times, returning to his calm. and goes back to his research. He mutters a bit more under his breath, but quickly enough returns to his books.
"Follow me," Sebastien utters simply, raising a hand to waggle some fingers in the air as he continues for the door. Should she stay, that's the last she'll see of him tonight. If she follows, she'd find him near the exit to the museum, smiling pleasantly at the woman at the front, strapping on the remains of his platemail.
Ema plays by no one's rules, especially not some uppity, clueless cyberknight. She'll take her seat once more, once his depature is certain, and slide open a book again. A few calming breaths has her once more focused as she flips pages, attempting to find where she left off.
Rasputin's head turns up from his research, as he hears the, "Follow me," He looks back and again, raises his finger and says, "Shhh," to Sebastien and tugs his beard again. Then turns back, looks Emayn up and down, twice, then back to his work again. Again with the Russian muttering, and then with the deep breaths.
Ema seems to relax as her place is found, finger sliding over the page at a steady pace once more. Her shoulders relax, and her jaw stops clenching shortly after that, and once more she's found that calmness that reading seems to instill in her.
Rasputin flips a few more pages, then a soft spew of Russian can be heard again. He shoves these books away and pulls a few more down. He looks up to you, and then down to the booksn. He very softly says in his deep voice, "Usink magiks or psis, on other withink out permissions is net goodink. Da, woulds be brakink laws."
Ema throws her hands up, book slapping closed as she leans back, "You too?" she takes a deep breath, clearing her throat as she exhales slowly, "I didn't do anything except have a bit of a spar, no different than what we did. And because the guy is a little bit crazy and confused, It just haaaaaas to be my fault."
Ema looks over and shrugs, "The same guy that person was just talking about, yeah, got into my head, tried to prove some sort of point." she sniffs somewhat loudly, and clears her throat, "I had considered us even, but now.." she trails off, another shrug offered as her head gives the slightest tilt.
Rasputin frowns and shakes his head, "Net goodink. Net." His voice noticably agitated, "Magiks on unwillink, net good. Was it durink spar?" Rasputin tugs his beard again, kind of hard, then he looks at his work, then to you.
"No, was before that. A couple of days, I'd guess. Our spar was the same rules I always use, Meat against meat. Bringing powers into it makes it less of a challange unless both are using them, n which case, its much too dangerous for inside."
"No, he just sorta did what he thought was best, what he felt like." she shurgs a third time, "Despite the laws, I guess I never really thought it was anyone's buisness but ours, me and his, and it was dealt with, or so I thought.'
Rasputin tugs his beard, "You were thinkink settled?" He shakes his head, "Please be understandink, I am nottink on yours sides, net Knights side. I am just wonderink. Da?" He tugs his beard and there is a small smirk, "Buttink, I am lookink forwards to sparink with mores. Da?"
"I thought so, normally i would have killed him, but I settled for this. And now, apprently, he's gone off acusing me of who knows what," she stacks her books again, seemingly done trying to read for now, "And I have stragers tracking me down and threatening me. I fucking hate city."
"I thought so, normally i would have killed him, but I settled for this. And now, apprently, he's gone off acusing me of who knows what," she stacks her books again, seemingly done trying to read for now, "And I have stragers tracking me down and threatening me. I fucking hate city."
Rasputin sighs a bit, "Are you beink goodink with handink situations? Mine would not wantink hotted heads to be causink issues with new customers of Deli." He grins a bit, but his soft deep voice seems very sincere.
"I'm apprently pretty awful at handling stuff like this, It seems." she leans back heavily in her chair, rockign it up on its back two legs, "I guess I'm the one at fault, could all these people be wrong?"
Rasputin shrugs, "Net knowink. You could be lyink, they could net understandink. I net know. Buttink, just sayink, if you wants impartials. I would be wilink to be askink abouts it. I net likink magiks or psi beink used on peoples unwillinks, even if helps net like."
Ema seems to have a bit of trouble parsing what you say, her body scoots her chair a bit so she can watch you, hoping to use body language cues, "Lovely. Guilty until proven innocent, huh?" she frowns, "I never thought i'd want to go back to the burbs, but at least their everyone is honest and open about their intentions towards people like me. Here is all bullshit pleasanties whispered into your ear while they stab you from behind."
Rasputin shakes his head, "Net, I am sayink I not knowink. I know emotions can be causink logicks to be, da, muddy." He tugs his beard, his body language more neutral, "I have been seeink magiks used on others. Net goodink, net." His body language has a momentary change to one saddness, just a touch of tear build up in his eyes, but then it is gone, "Da, whyink I am askink."
"I've never done anything like he did to me, make me act against my will." she says flatly, "And my transgression have been benign, a telepathic phrase to punctuate a point i was making, or maybe an aura read to see what I was dealing with.." she clears her throat again, and shrugs, "Nothing like what he did, and nothing like what is being suggested."
Rasputin tugs his beard, wrinkling his eye brows a bit, "Da." He frowns a little, "Aura readink," Rasputin shrugs, "Net, whatevers. Telepathy, cans be, uh," He says something in Russian, "disturbink. Buts, some types talk only dat way. Truink, mind control bads. Da?" He shakes his head and sighs, "Da." He tugs his beard, a bit more, "You net doink more dan dat, da?"
Ema waves her hand, "Nothing covert, no, or shady." she hmms softly to herself, "I healed him once, without asking, does that count? He was out cold, so he didn't give me an ok..." she shrugs, "But nothing else bad...though I use psi for everything, telekinesis is like my 3rd arm, so I don't count my using that as "against someone""
Rasputin shrugs, "I would not wantink someones to use magiks to heals me, unless I had spokens with. In life and deathink situation." He tugs his beard, "Hardink to say, da?" He closes the rest of his books, and puts his notes into a small brief case. He starts to clean his ink pen and put away the ink, "TK?" Rasputin shrugs, "I am not knowink. Ones should be carefuls though, da? Even in Kingsdale, manys don't likink magics and psi. So beink careful, da?"
"I am what I am, and I shouldn't have to hide it. And if I do have too, then how is here any different than the Coalition?" she looks at you, considering, "I didn't heal you, because I didn't know you, but him, I assumed it was ok. There are limits to what I will and won't do, but I won't hide who I am."
Rasputin shakes his head, "Net, net." He mutters in Russian, "Net hide. Careful, da. Magiks and Psis, likink load gun. Da? Waving around frightens and distrubs, net good idea. Dis all I am sayink. Da?" His face fairly serious, "And Coalistion, would be havink me up in stocks to be shot, and nexting to me. Da?" He chuckles. Rasputin remembers where he is, and looks around feeling embarressed about laughing out loud.
"Ha, is that any different than what that cybernight wanted from me? To put me in stocks because of what I might be able to do?" she grins a bit, the first hint of a curl in her lips in a while, "Ah well, I guess I see your point though. Human nature, and all that, to be afraid."
Rasputin grins, "Net just Humans, but da." He smiles, and then slides his ink pen into the brief case, "Offerink still on tables. You net decide now, comink to Deli, have meal. Be thinkink it over, da?" He tugs his beard, "Needink to be goink, be safes? Da?"
"Yeah, have a good night. I'll stop by a bit later, and we can talk, maybe i'll trade you some pointers in the ring for some pointers on not getting shot in this town." she laughs, her comment meant as a joke, but more than a little seriousness rolled in.
Rasputin nods, "Da, da." He tugs his beard, "Perhapink, I teach you Russian." He chuckles soflty, "Soink you can be understandink me." He grins, and tugs his beard, then with that, he wanders out of the Library.
