[Drabble]
Player: banerry
Subject: Azula
Table: A
Prompt: 012- Fantasy
She came to the cafe every day, and everyone knew she was a little crazy.
For one thing, we were pretty sure she was homeless. She always wore the same clothes, she never looked that clean, and she usually didn't have enough money for more than a coffee and maybe a small cup of soup. We let her sit for hours, even when we were really busy and were kicking most people off their tables as soon as they were done eating. We felt sorry for her, really, and it wasn't like she ever made trouble. She even didn't talk much. This is a social place, where people sit down and discussed their day with strangers just as often as they do with friends. But this chick? She always chose a seat by herself, away from crowds and noise. It was pretty easy to sense that she wanted to be left alone, too-- no one ever sat at her table.
Well, no, that's not completely true. She'd get a straggler every once in a while. Sometimes they'd even get her to say stuff, and that's how we found out how out to lunch she really was.
"I have a royal title, you know," she told one guy. "You wouldn't recognize it. No one here would. But it's real." He found it pretty funny and told the rest of us up at cash; we had a laugh about it, and then forgot. Until the next time, that is.
Mrs. Kawalski took me aside one day, her two little kids in tow. "Listen, I've kept quiet for a while now, but can you please do something about her?" she asked me, gesturing to our silent friend in the corner. "I don't want to make trouble, but she's creeping me out. She told my Daniel she's from another world. Another planet. She obviously has mental problems. Do you know anything about her? Do you think she could snap and hurt someone?" I had to spend about ten minutes reassuring the lady that she kept to herself, that she'd never threatened anyone, and that we'd make sure she'd leave her kids alone in the future. She still said that she was sorry, but she couldn't in good conscious bring children to a place that let people like that hang around all day. Her business would be taken elsewhere in the future.
It always sucks losing regular customers, especially at a close-knit place like this, but I figured it was just a one-time thing. No reason to go overboard about someone whose only crime was being quiet and occasionally talking about weird stuff, you know? But it was only two days later when we had to break up a group of teenagers hooting and hollering at the table next to hers.
"So why don't you just do it?" one called out, about three times louder than he needed to. "Just set me on fire, man! Come on! You can't back down after a threat like that; I want to see this pyromania shit!" His friends laughed raucously, leaning forward to get in her face. She clenched her fists at her sides, and while she definitely looked like she wanted to do something, she didn't. Yet. Remembering Mrs. Kawalski's words (I really didn't know enough about her to be sure that she wouldn't hurt someone, especially these punks), I shooed the kids out the door and pulled up a seat next to her.
"Hey," I said, trying to catch her eye. "Dunno if you know me, but I'm the manager of this place. I'm just wondering how you're doing."
"I'm fine." Her voice was flat.
"Those guys come back in and we'll make sure they don't bother you again, okay?"
She hesitated. "... I'm fine."
It was a little creepy, the way she talked. Definitely not normal. "Glad to hear it. Just wanted to double-check." I was standing up to leave when she spoke again.
"I'm used to it. People like that-- jerks. They're everywhere."
That made me laugh a little. "You got that right. Work in food service long enough and you see 'em all."
"I never worked in food service. I was a soldier first, a long time ago. Then I was a leader, then a soldier again. Not that I gave up my title; it was just taken from me. I never got a chance to reclaim it, but it's still mine."
That bit there threw me for a loop a little-- she was at least lucid enough to repeat and reuse the same delusions, which I hadn't really expected. So it wasn't just surface-level crazy. How far did this stuff go?
"Yeah?" I asked, sitting down again. "Tell me about it."
She raised her gaze, just a little, and for the first time I saw her eyes. They were golden. Colored contact lenses probably, but it still freaked me out a little. Where did a homeless woman get her hands on those things, anyway? I didn't have much time to think about it before she started talking again.
"I was on the community for years. Five years. Jerks came and went, but there were always some there. There were good people too, but the jerks were always the most noticeable. They're the one thing I don't miss." She'd completely lost me, and I think she knew it-- she paused for a second before going on. "The community. It connected us to every single world in existence, and we never thought it'd go away. Oh, it left some people, and took some others-- but it was always there for the rest of us. Until the day we got the message."
She stopped talking, so I had to give her a little prodding. "The message?"
"It was automated. Sent by whatever ran the place; no one ever did figure out what it was. It told us we had just twenty-four hours. Then it'd all shut down-- worldhopping included." Another long pause. I was about to urge her on (this story was weird, but kind of interesting) when she started up again.
"I didn't know what to do. None of us did. Half of them didn't even think it was true, or they thought it was just a virus. Given all I'd been through there I don't know why I believed it, but I did. I spent the whole time panicking. I had the Vatican. I had New Jersey. I had the Fire Nation. I had people in the first two places and a country to run in the third. I didn't know which one to go to. I didn't sleep, or eat, or rest-- I just hopped from one to the other, hugging Lisa and Lilith and fighting Zuko and trying to do my best to keep all three for as long as I could. And then when my time was up I came here. To this Earth; to the New Jersey there. I didn't even think about it. I just did it."
She sat in silence for a full minute, staring at the tabletop.
"I had to pick a world. And this was the one I chose."
What could I even say to that? "That's, uh..."
"It was all right at first," she interrupted. "Well, it wasn't really, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Lisa was there. She took care of me while I pined for what I'd lost, and I took care of her while she did the same. And eventually I stopped being sad all the time. She helped make me happy again, and Rachel did too. So yes, it was all right at first.
"They're gone now, though. Both of them. Dead. At the same time. I don't want to talk about how, but I wasn't there, and I should have been. It was sudden."
... Geez. I had to admit, this was starting to make me uncomfortable. She'd left behind the fluffy other-world fantasy and was getting into some heavy shit. She clearly needed help of some kind. "Listen, you're on your own, right? That's not good. A woman alone on the streets of the city... you know there are places that can help you out, right? Shelters? People who could take care of you." Really I was thinking more along the lines of institutions, but I didn't think saying that out loud would go over so well.
"No," she said, abruptly standing. "No one else. Not ever. First it was two and then it was one and then it was two again, and then... no. I'm through; I'm not doing it again." She was getting agitated; I reached out to grab her arm, but she ducked away and headed for the door. Against my better judgement, I didn't go after her.
Just before leaving, she turned back to look at me. Pleadingly, almost. She wanted something from me, but I didn't know how to give it to her, or even what it was. "I had three to choose from. Did I pick the right one?"
Then she walked out the door. Just like that.
She hasn't been back since.
Every day I think about it, but I still have no fucking idea how I could have answered her question.
Subject: Azula
Table: A
Prompt: 012- Fantasy
She came to the cafe every day, and everyone knew she was a little crazy.
For one thing, we were pretty sure she was homeless. She always wore the same clothes, she never looked that clean, and she usually didn't have enough money for more than a coffee and maybe a small cup of soup. We let her sit for hours, even when we were really busy and were kicking most people off their tables as soon as they were done eating. We felt sorry for her, really, and it wasn't like she ever made trouble. She even didn't talk much. This is a social place, where people sit down and discussed their day with strangers just as often as they do with friends. But this chick? She always chose a seat by herself, away from crowds and noise. It was pretty easy to sense that she wanted to be left alone, too-- no one ever sat at her table.
Well, no, that's not completely true. She'd get a straggler every once in a while. Sometimes they'd even get her to say stuff, and that's how we found out how out to lunch she really was.
"I have a royal title, you know," she told one guy. "You wouldn't recognize it. No one here would. But it's real." He found it pretty funny and told the rest of us up at cash; we had a laugh about it, and then forgot. Until the next time, that is.
Mrs. Kawalski took me aside one day, her two little kids in tow. "Listen, I've kept quiet for a while now, but can you please do something about her?" she asked me, gesturing to our silent friend in the corner. "I don't want to make trouble, but she's creeping me out. She told my Daniel she's from another world. Another planet. She obviously has mental problems. Do you know anything about her? Do you think she could snap and hurt someone?" I had to spend about ten minutes reassuring the lady that she kept to herself, that she'd never threatened anyone, and that we'd make sure she'd leave her kids alone in the future. She still said that she was sorry, but she couldn't in good conscious bring children to a place that let people like that hang around all day. Her business would be taken elsewhere in the future.
It always sucks losing regular customers, especially at a close-knit place like this, but I figured it was just a one-time thing. No reason to go overboard about someone whose only crime was being quiet and occasionally talking about weird stuff, you know? But it was only two days later when we had to break up a group of teenagers hooting and hollering at the table next to hers.
"So why don't you just do it?" one called out, about three times louder than he needed to. "Just set me on fire, man! Come on! You can't back down after a threat like that; I want to see this pyromania shit!" His friends laughed raucously, leaning forward to get in her face. She clenched her fists at her sides, and while she definitely looked like she wanted to do something, she didn't. Yet. Remembering Mrs. Kawalski's words (I really didn't know enough about her to be sure that she wouldn't hurt someone, especially these punks), I shooed the kids out the door and pulled up a seat next to her.
"Hey," I said, trying to catch her eye. "Dunno if you know me, but I'm the manager of this place. I'm just wondering how you're doing."
"I'm fine." Her voice was flat.
"Those guys come back in and we'll make sure they don't bother you again, okay?"
She hesitated. "... I'm fine."
It was a little creepy, the way she talked. Definitely not normal. "Glad to hear it. Just wanted to double-check." I was standing up to leave when she spoke again.
"I'm used to it. People like that-- jerks. They're everywhere."
That made me laugh a little. "You got that right. Work in food service long enough and you see 'em all."
"I never worked in food service. I was a soldier first, a long time ago. Then I was a leader, then a soldier again. Not that I gave up my title; it was just taken from me. I never got a chance to reclaim it, but it's still mine."
That bit there threw me for a loop a little-- she was at least lucid enough to repeat and reuse the same delusions, which I hadn't really expected. So it wasn't just surface-level crazy. How far did this stuff go?
"Yeah?" I asked, sitting down again. "Tell me about it."
She raised her gaze, just a little, and for the first time I saw her eyes. They were golden. Colored contact lenses probably, but it still freaked me out a little. Where did a homeless woman get her hands on those things, anyway? I didn't have much time to think about it before she started talking again.
"I was on the community for years. Five years. Jerks came and went, but there were always some there. There were good people too, but the jerks were always the most noticeable. They're the one thing I don't miss." She'd completely lost me, and I think she knew it-- she paused for a second before going on. "The community. It connected us to every single world in existence, and we never thought it'd go away. Oh, it left some people, and took some others-- but it was always there for the rest of us. Until the day we got the message."
She stopped talking, so I had to give her a little prodding. "The message?"
"It was automated. Sent by whatever ran the place; no one ever did figure out what it was. It told us we had just twenty-four hours. Then it'd all shut down-- worldhopping included." Another long pause. I was about to urge her on (this story was weird, but kind of interesting) when she started up again.
"I didn't know what to do. None of us did. Half of them didn't even think it was true, or they thought it was just a virus. Given all I'd been through there I don't know why I believed it, but I did. I spent the whole time panicking. I had the Vatican. I had New Jersey. I had the Fire Nation. I had people in the first two places and a country to run in the third. I didn't know which one to go to. I didn't sleep, or eat, or rest-- I just hopped from one to the other, hugging Lisa and Lilith and fighting Zuko and trying to do my best to keep all three for as long as I could. And then when my time was up I came here. To this Earth; to the New Jersey there. I didn't even think about it. I just did it."
She sat in silence for a full minute, staring at the tabletop.
"I had to pick a world. And this was the one I chose."
What could I even say to that? "That's, uh..."
"It was all right at first," she interrupted. "Well, it wasn't really, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Lisa was there. She took care of me while I pined for what I'd lost, and I took care of her while she did the same. And eventually I stopped being sad all the time. She helped make me happy again, and Rachel did too. So yes, it was all right at first.
"They're gone now, though. Both of them. Dead. At the same time. I don't want to talk about how, but I wasn't there, and I should have been. It was sudden."
... Geez. I had to admit, this was starting to make me uncomfortable. She'd left behind the fluffy other-world fantasy and was getting into some heavy shit. She clearly needed help of some kind. "Listen, you're on your own, right? That's not good. A woman alone on the streets of the city... you know there are places that can help you out, right? Shelters? People who could take care of you." Really I was thinking more along the lines of institutions, but I didn't think saying that out loud would go over so well.
"No," she said, abruptly standing. "No one else. Not ever. First it was two and then it was one and then it was two again, and then... no. I'm through; I'm not doing it again." She was getting agitated; I reached out to grab her arm, but she ducked away and headed for the door. Against my better judgement, I didn't go after her.
Just before leaving, she turned back to look at me. Pleadingly, almost. She wanted something from me, but I didn't know how to give it to her, or even what it was. "I had three to choose from. Did I pick the right one?"
Then she walked out the door. Just like that.
She hasn't been back since.
Every day I think about it, but I still have no fucking idea how I could have answered her question.