AIM rp continuation, to bravetinsoldier
Setting: The time period which is shown in C.C.'s flashbacks. Here, we're assuming that it's a time similar to WWI.
C.C.: It had been a while since C.C. came to France. Sure, half a year was nothing on her entire life, but during these times... She tunes out the radio playing loudly, reporting what was going on with the War, and sips her tea. She slowly looks around the small café, full of idiots. Boring idiots, at that.
Ether: Most of the cafe would probably take offense at that description. Not the furthest corner from the door, however, where the table is occupied by someone different from the rest of the crowd. Sitting there, is a young man. He is dressed in a rather good-looking suit, with a black sleeveless jacket tossed over his white shirt, and a rather masterfully bound tie. His presentable appearance presents a striking contrast to what seems to be his coat - it is hanging off the chair next to him, and probably presents the greasiest and dustiest piece of clothing to ever exist, like it just spent many hours in the back of a crowded train. His messy black hair falls freely onto his half-lidded eyes, making it hard to distinguish his features. His attention seems to not so much be focused on the cup in front of him as on the dusty streets outside, as evidenced by his forehead leaning onto the warm glass of the window.
He looks like one of those people who like being brushed off as boring idiots. If only because they don't like answering intelligent questions.
C.C.: C.C. looks at his coat in seeming distaste, her own ensemble perfectly clean. The skirt, which reaches her knees, is the same murky brown as her coat and vest. It seems like people have a certain need to have everything look as depressive as possible, but she has to wear this in order to fit in somehow.
She takes her hat off the counter, though, as she looks at the man by the window. How...interesting. Her boots sound heavy on the wooden floor as she makes her way to him, and sits down in the seat across of him.
Ether: The man doesn't seem to be one to react loudly, strange, considering the time and situation of their meeting. His eyes slowly look away from the window and toward her, revealing their eerie light-brown, almost red, color. It takes several seconds for him to look over her in what seems to be a lazzy attempt at curiosity, before he finally pushes away from the window and takes a more proper position in the chair.
When he speaks, his voice is quiet and calm. "Is there anything I can help you with, ma'am?"
C.C.: "You're not human," she says, her voice light. Her green hair shimmers in the light filtering through the clouds and the window. These days, it seems like the clouds never go away. "It's interesting. You're the only interesting thing I have seen in months."
Ether: He doesn't respond immediately. Instead, he takes a nice, long pause to look over her, his eyes filled with suspicion, but not the kind one would expect from being looked at like a madman.
"Interesting," he finally echoes in response to her. His hands rise and take place on the edge of the table, his fingers intertwining and revealing strange skin-tight gloves of black and blue. "And why would you think I'm not human?"
C.C.: She raises her hand and points at his eyes. "Your eyes aren't normal, for one. They're broken." It's more obvious here in the light, but she could see it from her seat at the bar. Feel it.
Ether: "Broken." His right eyebrow raises a bit in surprise, revealing - probably on accident - a barely visible pattern of golden circuitry bound into his pupil. "That is a strange word to use for someone's eyes. I don't wear glasses, do I?"
C.C.: There. That's even better! She scowls at him, though. "Don't play stupid. Especially up this close, I can see that your eyes aren't human."
Ether: "So you say..." His expressiion, previously so reserved, slowly turns into a smile as he leans back on the chair behind him. It is a familiar smile, wry and a little mocking, almost like looking in the mirror. "You are right, however," he continues in a most unshaken manner. There is a dramatic pause, upon which he adds a line that would be out of place in any time but this one. "My eyes are no longer human. I am fresh from the front lines, you see."
Bastard.
C.C.: She smiles at him, nearly the same as Ether's smile, and leans her chin on one hand, her elbow no the rickety table. "Those two may well be true. But they don't have anything to do with each other, do they?"
Ether: "Maybe yes, maybe no." His head cants to one side, then to the other as he answers. His smile remains. "There are few people out there whose eyes look human at this point. How are mine any different?"
C.C.: She waves her free hand around a bit. "Their eyes are dead, not in this world anymore. Yours, however, are almost too focused on this world, as if you're afraid you'll lose yourself if you stop paying attention for too long." Her own eyes sparkle with silent amusement. "Besides, golden rings in otherwise red eyes? I'm not buying it."
Ether: "Such keen observational skills." He pauses, his lower lip twitching slightly until his smile has an almost pouting quality to it. "Now I regret asking for clarifications."
C.C.: "How cute," she remarks, not moving from her position. "So what are you? A robot?"
Ether: "Mm... Yes and no. I am neither machine nor man, neither legend nor reality." He leans a little forward and peers at her in a mixture of mockery and suspicion. "And like a Sphynx, I give nothing but riddles to nosy women who do not introduce themselves. Even if they are beautiful, mysterious women."
C.C.: "You can call me C.C., Mr Soldier," she replies, looking at him closely.
Ether: "C.C." It sounds almost like he's tasting the name, trying to figure if it's real or not. "Ether, then. Call me Ether."
C.C.: "Ether, then. Aren't you going to buy me a drink? After all, I'm a beautiful, mysterious woman."
Ether: His smile grows a bit. "If that is what you wished for, you could take a much shorter route." His hand rises and two fingers snap loudly, before he mouthes off a short - and rather polite - call for a waitress.
C.C.: "It's not, but a free drink is always good," she smiles, then leans back. The drink is ordered quickly and efficiently, though the waitress looks drained.
C.C.: "So," she says as soon as the waitress has given her her drink (light tea; rations are scarce at the moment), "did you really just come from the front lines?"
Ether:
"Please," he answers, his calm voice sounding almost offended. "I may not speak the whole truth, but I am no liar. I have arrived on a train this early morning." His eyes shift to look at his old cloak for a moment, as if indicating it as proof. "I haven't even had a chance to find a hotel room."
C.C.: She sips her tea (black, if you wanted to know), and looks up at him as she sets her cup down. "I haven an offer for you. Accompany me. In return, I will take care that you have good accomodation, and, if needed, nutrition. I'll pay you, if you want."
Ether: Now that was unexpected. Ether blinks once in what seems to be a faint surprise, then narrows his eyes a bit and speaks.
"Accompany you." Pause. "Accompany you where? Food and shelter are nothing but precious in this age, but I am not quite sure I'm ready to sacrifice caution and morals for them."
C.C.: "I don't know yet. I'll know when we get there." She folds her arms and crosses her legs, tilting her head to look at him from a different angle. "I don't care about your morals, you can have whichever morals you want to have as long as you don't talk about them non-stop."
Ether: "...Hm. That is a rather loose offer, don't you think?" His eyebrow rises a bit... Once again, the right one. "Not that I'm not willing, but I, too, have obligations. How long do you expect it to take?"
C.C.: "I have no expectations of the duration. As soon as you have more pressing obligations, you're free to leave." She looks at his eyes closely.
Ether: "I see..." There is a moment of silence as he plants his elbows on the table, folds his hands in front of himself and thinks. Finally, there is a surrendering sigh. "You drive a hard bargain, woman. You offer little guarantee, but the curiosity is far too tempting."
C.C.: "No one can resist a good mystery, after all," she smiles, taking another sip of tea.
Ether: "You'd think they would know better." He shakes his head with a sigh. "Alright. I'm in."
C.C.: She smiles brightly and holds out her hand. "Very well, then. Welcome aboard, Ether."
Ether: His hands slowly part in response, fingers on both twirling a bit as he attempts to remove the stiffness from them, and then his hand reaches forward and carefully takes hers. It takes a moment before he finally decides to gently shake it. "And the vessel is called..?"
C.C.: She has a firm grip, hands surprisingly calloused compared to the rest of her skin. "S.S. C.C.," she says after a moment's hesitation.
Ether: Such devotion to the dual consonants. He cannot help but grin, his expression nicely hiding anything he might be observing from their first contact. "Alright. And when does she leave the port, captain?"
C.C.: She lets go of his hand and quickly throws on her coat. It matches the rest of her clothes, of course. "Immediately. I have lost enough time already."
Ether: And such hurry, too.
"Alright then." He rises from the chair right after her, one hand sweeping up his cup of now-cold tea to finish it in a single gulp, while the other casually reaches into his pocket and drops a couple coins on the table. They hit with a loud ring and soon stop, forming the exact price he owes to the establishment by now. That done, he picks up the coat. It may look more like a chunk of greasy cloth at this point, but that only helps him blend in outside. "Lead the way."
C.C.: "We're getting you a new coat as soon as possible," she comments casually, walking to the door and out onto the street in a good pace. "We will take the next train out of the city. After that, we will make our way up to several other cities. For now, Belgium is the location we are trying to get to, but things might very well happen on our way."
Ether: "We'd better give this one a warrior's burial, then," he counters almost instantly. Belgium... Of course. He should've expected that. There is no way a sane woman would travel somewhere like that in this political climate. He tosses the coat over his shoulder as he walks, his other hand finding a place in his pocket. "Back to the front lines, huh? You find business in dangerous places."
C.C.: "One person's despair is another's bread, isn't it, Ether?" She moves to fold her hair underneath her hat, making her look much stricter, then she folds her arms again, looking straight ahead. "Flaunders isn't a nice place to be, right now, but we will find strong people there." Sure, you'll also find a lot of weak people, but sometimes..
Ether: "Is that what you're looking for? Strong people?" He questions with what feels like zero expectation for an answer.
C.C.: "Hm. Yes." She's not elaborating on what kind of strength, though, obviously.
Ether: "...Hm." He doesn't elaborate further. If that's her poison, she can have it... For now, at least. "Works for me. Now only one thing left to clarify... How are we going to spend the day until the train arrives?"
C.C.: "I know a good place to get cheap coats. That, and I'm hungry." The wind is unexpectedly strong for a moment, causing her to shiver and look up at the sky. "I hope you don't mind a bit of cold. It feels like there's a storm coming."
Ether: "I spend a lot of time in the rain lately." He looks up along with her, his eyes narrowing into slits. His expression turns worried. "Another storm is nothing." As long as it's not another storm of bullets.
C.C.: "Then you should be fine," she says, tearing her gaze away from the sky and continuing her brisk walk. "Ether, can I ask you something?" She doesn't wait for an answer and goes right ahead. "Which impression has the front line left on you? There have been reports of soldiers withdrawing into themselves. Allies shooting each other. A more brutal war than any other before it."
Ether: "...A good question." Not because he cannot answer it... Because he is afraid that the answer he can give is far more than anyone in this era is prepared for. Ether frowns a little and continues. "It is true. A human mind is not prepared for this kind of war. People are growing suspicious of each other. Some of them turn insane. In the end, in this day and age, all people can do is try to adapt. Few of them manage to." Pause. "It feels like the threads of history will go in a different direction from now on."
He doesn't mention that he knows at least one form of that direction.
C.C.: She shakes her head, moving so that her hands are in her coat pockets. "History is never set in stone, and you know as well as I do that people will never accept life under these conditions. There will always be one person who feels the need for change."
Ether: "Yes... I know." He goes silent for a few moment as his eyes focus on her face, trying to pull as much information from her as possible. Finally, he asks. "Is that the strong person you're looking for? That one?"
C.C.: "Hm. That's part of it, yes." She stops in her tracks and looks up at the building before stepping inside. It's an old, cramped shop, made of mostly wood, and it's full of 2nd hand coats. "If you require something better, I know another place. But I don't believe soldiers are given the pay people are told they get."
Ether: Part of it. Interesting answer. Somehow, Ether cannot help but feel that the mystery is getting deeper and deeper.
"It's not about money," He answers as he leans toward the hangers and begins examining the coats. "It's about..." His fingers reach toward one of them, pinch a bit of it and try it out with touch. "Durability, comfort and appearance. You wouldn't know, but new stores have problems pinning down all three at once without a game of chance." His expression suddenly turns to a smile. "This one. This one is perfect."
C.C.: "Hm. Very well, then. Let's buy it and get out of this dump."
Ether: Ether responds by elegantly removing the coat from its hanger and hanging it over his hand. He then proceeds to the counter, where he pays to the cashier... The process which takes about five-ten minutes of masterful haggling for the price of both his new coat and the sell of his old one. Finally, he approaches C.C. once again, now carrying only one coat and obviously victorious.
"Done."
C.C.: "You managed to sell that piece of junk?" She snorts softly and walks out again. "Now. Food. Is there anything in particular you like?"
Ether: "That 'piece of junk' only looked like one because I have no time to do laundry," he protests in a rather stubborn manner as he follows her. "Now, food. To be honest..." There is a dramatic pause and a sigh. "...These days, my only issue with food is my developing phobia of military rations."
C.C.: "I agree that no woman could be paid to wash that," she smirks, then purses her lips. "I don't think I could find a place for you where they serve military rations, even if I wanted to. I could find you a bad restaurant, but I have no desire to eat in such places. Italian?"
Ether: "And I don't trust any women to do my laundry." He smirks right back. "Italian, then."
C.C.: They quickly find a place, and C.C. is obviously familiar with the restaurants in the city. She orders the largest pizza they have as soon as the waitress gets there, then looks at Ether again. "So where are you from? It's probably good to know more about a travel companion before you embark on said travel." Didn't stop her from asking him to join her, though.
Ether: ...That is one large pizza. Thankfully for their wallets, Ether orders a smaller and healthier course. He eats rather slowly, but not so much out of laziness as it is out of care for the process.
"I..." He stops for a second, thinks and then continues. "I lived in far too many places to have a home. The closest I have to one are the back seat of a train wagon and a tent somewhere in the wild. Those are the only kinds of places where I can sleep in peace." Pause. "I was born in London, if that is what you wish to know."
C.C.: "London? Hm. The British Empire...I don't much care for it." She cuts the pizza in neat slices and starts eating it with gusto. She seems to soften as the first bits of cheese touch her tongue ;o;
Ether: "Neither do I," he answers in an absent voice. "I was born there, but that isn't the place where I grew up."
C.C.: "No place but train wagons and tents in the wild warms your heart?"
Ether: "Hmmmm..." He pauses for a second as he raises his empty fork and makes a graceful circle in the air with it. "...There is France, of course... And there is Ireland. I have quite a few fond memories of Ireland. I also lived in Japan, but that was so long ago..." He turns silent for a second, then shrugs with a smile and digs the fork back into the plate. "...But they are only temporary homes. I never truly stayed in any place for more than a couple months."
C.C.: "Such a lonely traveller. Then, you're a mercenary of sorts? A hired arm?" Nomnomnom goes C.C., like she doesn't really care for the answers. Of course, pizza always takes priority.
Ether: "Lonely? Far from it." He looks up at her, his eyes almost shining when supported by that grin. "No matter where I go, there are always people... And each year, there are new ones." He places the fork in his mouth and, after chewing for a second, leans with his elbow on the table and uses his hand to support his chin. "A hired arm? Do I truly look like the sort?"
C.C.: "Hm." She looks vaguely bored. "You have a purpose, and you have to travel to reach your goal. You just came out of a war, supposedly, and you're not harmed. You can't have been injured, in that case, and let out of the army. The logical conclusion is that you didn't want to fight there anymore. If you had deserted, you wouldn't be so calm."
Ether: "You are correct." He seems perfectly calm, like he would be surprised if she wouldn't figure that one out by now. "I told you I have obligations, did I not? Even though I fought my share of battles, they are not for the military. I am looking for something."
C.C.: "One does not simply wáltz into the military. Not yet, in any case." She pops a piece of pizza into her mouth, and wipes her hand on the napkin. "What are you looking for, Ether?"
Ether: "Something...", he already begins, but then silently stops mid-sentence. His eyes blink twice, his smile falters for a brief moment and... "No. Someone. I am looking for someone very important. Everything I ever strived for, depends on me finding that one person."
C.C.: "How long have you been looking for them?" She seems very curious, but all the information she can get is good information.
Ether: "It hasn't been long since I started..." He goes silent for a second as he considers. "...A couple months, perhaps. Before that, I traveled because that's the only kind of life I know how to lead."
C.C.: "...hm. You were satisfied to wander, without a goal, then."
Ether: "Mm... You could say that." Ether shrugs. "Having a goal is fine, but sometimes, it is worth wandering about for a while. That way, you can find yourself."
C.C.: She snorts and shoves another bit of pizza into her mouth. Sadly, it is nearly gone by now. When she's swallowed the food, she shrugs. "I found myself a long time ago. It's not always a good thing to be confronted with who you are."