[original] city of wonder
Oh! most beautiful darling.
trying to drabble my own storyline in an attempt to shape characters out a little more. ♥
Hernandez's voice was muffled from behind the locked bathroom door. She sounded like she was crying, which annoyed Ismene. Leaning her face against the wooden door, which was cool against her cheek.
"What the hell is your problem now?"
The toilet seat slammed down. The door was suddenly moved away from Ismene's face, and she looked down at the sliver of face revealed by the only-slightly-ajar door. Her eye was redraw. "You watched that with me! How could you not find Sicko depressing?"
"Probably because I don't have cancer," Ismene responded dryly.
Hernandez wasn't amused, and the door slammed shut once more. "How can you joke about this?" the muffled voice continued, growing to desperate heights. "You don't have health insurance!"
Ismene let herself slide down the wall, stretching her legs out in front of her. She felt the dull pressure in her navel, a signal that she should get this conversation over with soon before she peed her pants. But when Hernandez got it into her head to have a Serious Discussion, there was no dissuading her. Even if one nodded amicably and said nothing, she could go on for hours. Ismene had learned early on that if it didn't make a difference, she might as well be honest with Hernandez.
"No, I don't. If I get into a car crash or get into a bar fight with some Russian mail-order bride, then I guess I'll be screwed. I haven't yet, though. Or would Michael Moore prefer that I go out and dig bodies out of the ashes of--"
The door opened again and Hernandez shot her a nasty look. "Don't even. Don't you make fun of what happened in New York--!"
Ismene sighed and let her eyes roll up to the ceiling.
"They're trying to use that as a symbol of our failing economic empire. Were, whatever. And they fell, and people die. I sound like a bitch when I say it like that, and when I say that worse things have happened, but they have."
Hernandez's mouth moved to interrupt, but Ismene moved forward sharply and slapped her hand across it, and the surprise of the sharp action cut off the impromptu comment. The position Ismene found herself in was slightly awkward and oddly-bent, but goddam if she didn't have something to say.
"Shut up and listen for a second. I can't see them as people that died. The people who died there are as far from me as people who died in Pompeii or, I don't know, under the Khmer Rouge. The numbers represent their countries. Greeks. Cambodians. Americans. And, fuck, maybe we deserved it. So this whole complex painting of these...these heroes, I mean, I don't think I believe in heroes anymore at this point. It's ridiculous to think that these sort of great beings exist, or ever did."
Her train of thought paused, and it was enough time for Hernandez to gain footing in the discussion once again. She pulled her mouth away from Ismene's hand and said, "Rome."
Ismene's head snapped to the right to look at Hernandez. "What?"
Hernandez frowned. "Pompeii was in Rome. And you're being anti-social and misogynistic again, and it's completely unappealing and doesn't sound at all intelligent. I'm sure you think it does. You are not some deep intellectual who will one day enlighten the world with your new perspective on the world. You're just full of your own theories and nonsense, a reflection of your own cynicism and rage." She said most of this quickly and with few breathes in between, half expecting the hand to slam back down, cutting off the flow of angry words. The hand never came, and Ismene's gaze didn't move. This flustered her, the cool gaze.
"Shucks. I sure am sorry, Miss Priss. I can't be helpin' dat I ain't as learned an' full'a smarts as your pretty little head is."
Hernandez shut the door again. She sat down hard on the toilet seat, and sighed in annoyance. "I never said you weren't intelligent!"
"But what I think isn't. Okay. Got it."
A growl. "You're not getting this at all."
"Must be my lack of intelligence. I hear that's a barrier."
Sometimes Hernandez had to sit down and wonder what she was doing here. Arguing through a door with some self-deprecating, pessimistic, cold-hearted lesbian about...just about everything she placed importance into. She let her face be buried in her hands, her clammy, brown hands, the toilet seat cold where it touched her bare thighs.
Was she really ready for this on repeat forever? Had she left school for this?
It was coming to the point where she couldn't stand it.
Ismene opened the door and leaned against the door frame, her spine straightening to match it. Her face looked down at Hernandez, who was sort of irritated with herself for not thinking to relock the bathroom door. She looked down at her hands.
"I'm dumb."
Hernandez didn't believe that, but for the first time she wondered if Ismene did. Her eyebrows raised, she looked up at the blonde, her face wiped clean of exasperation.
"You're beautiful, and this is dumb. I'm honest to a fault, and I'm going for a walk now." Ismene turned away, began padding down the hall. Hernandez ran through the options in her mind quickly. She could A) follow her and go on a walk with her, B) follow her and drag her into a nook where she could thank her properly, with words being optional but preferred, C) call out and see if Ismene would return or D) let her go.
Let's see what's behind door D.
Hernandez shut the bathroom door again, not allowing Ismene's rare and awkwardly-put compliment to fizzle out quite yet.
That's what she was doing here. Her. Hernandez smiled against the water she splashed onto her face.
trying to drabble my own storyline in an attempt to shape characters out a little more. ♥
Hernandez's voice was muffled from behind the locked bathroom door. She sounded like she was crying, which annoyed Ismene. Leaning her face against the wooden door, which was cool against her cheek.
"What the hell is your problem now?"
The toilet seat slammed down. The door was suddenly moved away from Ismene's face, and she looked down at the sliver of face revealed by the only-slightly-ajar door. Her eye was redraw. "You watched that with me! How could you not find Sicko depressing?"
"Probably because I don't have cancer," Ismene responded dryly.
Hernandez wasn't amused, and the door slammed shut once more. "How can you joke about this?" the muffled voice continued, growing to desperate heights. "You don't have health insurance!"
Ismene let herself slide down the wall, stretching her legs out in front of her. She felt the dull pressure in her navel, a signal that she should get this conversation over with soon before she peed her pants. But when Hernandez got it into her head to have a Serious Discussion, there was no dissuading her. Even if one nodded amicably and said nothing, she could go on for hours. Ismene had learned early on that if it didn't make a difference, she might as well be honest with Hernandez.
"No, I don't. If I get into a car crash or get into a bar fight with some Russian mail-order bride, then I guess I'll be screwed. I haven't yet, though. Or would Michael Moore prefer that I go out and dig bodies out of the ashes of--"
The door opened again and Hernandez shot her a nasty look. "Don't even. Don't you make fun of what happened in New York--!"
Ismene sighed and let her eyes roll up to the ceiling.
"They're trying to use that as a symbol of our failing economic empire. Were, whatever. And they fell, and people die. I sound like a bitch when I say it like that, and when I say that worse things have happened, but they have."
Hernandez's mouth moved to interrupt, but Ismene moved forward sharply and slapped her hand across it, and the surprise of the sharp action cut off the impromptu comment. The position Ismene found herself in was slightly awkward and oddly-bent, but goddam if she didn't have something to say.
"Shut up and listen for a second. I can't see them as people that died. The people who died there are as far from me as people who died in Pompeii or, I don't know, under the Khmer Rouge. The numbers represent their countries. Greeks. Cambodians. Americans. And, fuck, maybe we deserved it. So this whole complex painting of these...these heroes, I mean, I don't think I believe in heroes anymore at this point. It's ridiculous to think that these sort of great beings exist, or ever did."
Her train of thought paused, and it was enough time for Hernandez to gain footing in the discussion once again. She pulled her mouth away from Ismene's hand and said, "Rome."
Ismene's head snapped to the right to look at Hernandez. "What?"
Hernandez frowned. "Pompeii was in Rome. And you're being anti-social and misogynistic again, and it's completely unappealing and doesn't sound at all intelligent. I'm sure you think it does. You are not some deep intellectual who will one day enlighten the world with your new perspective on the world. You're just full of your own theories and nonsense, a reflection of your own cynicism and rage." She said most of this quickly and with few breathes in between, half expecting the hand to slam back down, cutting off the flow of angry words. The hand never came, and Ismene's gaze didn't move. This flustered her, the cool gaze.
"Shucks. I sure am sorry, Miss Priss. I can't be helpin' dat I ain't as learned an' full'a smarts as your pretty little head is."
Hernandez shut the door again. She sat down hard on the toilet seat, and sighed in annoyance. "I never said you weren't intelligent!"
"But what I think isn't. Okay. Got it."
A growl. "You're not getting this at all."
"Must be my lack of intelligence. I hear that's a barrier."
Sometimes Hernandez had to sit down and wonder what she was doing here. Arguing through a door with some self-deprecating, pessimistic, cold-hearted lesbian about...just about everything she placed importance into. She let her face be buried in her hands, her clammy, brown hands, the toilet seat cold where it touched her bare thighs.
Was she really ready for this on repeat forever? Had she left school for this?
It was coming to the point where she couldn't stand it.
Ismene opened the door and leaned against the door frame, her spine straightening to match it. Her face looked down at Hernandez, who was sort of irritated with herself for not thinking to relock the bathroom door. She looked down at her hands.
"I'm dumb."
Hernandez didn't believe that, but for the first time she wondered if Ismene did. Her eyebrows raised, she looked up at the blonde, her face wiped clean of exasperation.
"You're beautiful, and this is dumb. I'm honest to a fault, and I'm going for a walk now." Ismene turned away, began padding down the hall. Hernandez ran through the options in her mind quickly. She could A) follow her and go on a walk with her, B) follow her and drag her into a nook where she could thank her properly, with words being optional but preferred, C) call out and see if Ismene would return or D) let her go.
Let's see what's behind door D.
Hernandez shut the bathroom door again, not allowing Ismene's rare and awkwardly-put compliment to fizzle out quite yet.
That's what she was doing here. Her. Hernandez smiled against the water she splashed onto her face.