ѕarιѕѕa "noт тoday, ѕaтan" тнeron (
magnitudes) wrote in
maskormenace2017-03-01 06:14 am
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00? ( video. ) not sarissa, tho.
( There is a woman on screen who looks remarkably unconcerned.
She also looks familiar, possibly, given that the family resemblance between Sarissa and her grandmother is staggering. Notable differences – this woman is obviously wearing something a little more era appropriate for this place, but still not quite right, in faded green and brown cut to match World War II era demands, all practicality. A scar, or an injury in the process of becoming a scar, cuts down from her left cheekbone towards her jaw, and it creases into something like a dimple when she speaks.
Between the knuckles of her fore and index fingers rests a cigar, white smoke curling upwards and blooming outwards like a drop of ink twisting through water. Her accent, when she speaks, is markedly Greek. )
I have always heard America called the “Land of Opportunity.” Opportunity— ( A small gesture with her free hand, palm flat and facing down - so-so. )
Maybe. Feet draggers, I think, more likely. And poor filing, ah? That is definite.
( There is a little smile, though it’s not a very mirthful thing, as she picks up a file. ) I was giving the paperwork for a Sarissa Theron. They insist it’s mine, but— no. If anyone knows this woman, I think it better these papers get back to safe hands.
( Her smile widens, sharpens. )
My name is Eunike. For the record? This is— cock and balls. Bullshit. Dragging us from our own wars, to fight theirs? That is convenient, no? Cowardice, I think.
( Note: this is related to the Dial Straits plot. Sarissa ported out on the 1st March and this is set on the 3rd – for those two days Sarissa’s device would have been disconnected. Now is back in action, but in the wrong hands. )
She also looks familiar, possibly, given that the family resemblance between Sarissa and her grandmother is staggering. Notable differences – this woman is obviously wearing something a little more era appropriate for this place, but still not quite right, in faded green and brown cut to match World War II era demands, all practicality. A scar, or an injury in the process of becoming a scar, cuts down from her left cheekbone towards her jaw, and it creases into something like a dimple when she speaks.
Between the knuckles of her fore and index fingers rests a cigar, white smoke curling upwards and blooming outwards like a drop of ink twisting through water. Her accent, when she speaks, is markedly Greek. )
I have always heard America called the “Land of Opportunity.” Opportunity— ( A small gesture with her free hand, palm flat and facing down - so-so. )
Maybe. Feet draggers, I think, more likely. And poor filing, ah? That is definite.
( There is a little smile, though it’s not a very mirthful thing, as she picks up a file. ) I was giving the paperwork for a Sarissa Theron. They insist it’s mine, but— no. If anyone knows this woman, I think it better these papers get back to safe hands.
( Her smile widens, sharpens. )
My name is Eunike. For the record? This is— cock and balls. Bullshit. Dragging us from our own wars, to fight theirs? That is convenient, no? Cowardice, I think.
( Note: this is related to the Dial Straits plot. Sarissa ported out on the 1st March and this is set on the 3rd – for those two days Sarissa’s device would have been disconnected. Now is back in action, but in the wrong hands. )
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That shit'll kill you, you know.
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If go outside or stay inside, take action or do nothing, those are all ways I can die. Cigars are are welcome to try.
( She knocks away the ash, and takes a drag, before holding out a cup of coffee to Sarah. )
I think we need to speak, you and I. It's good.
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Alright, so let's talk.
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I had a little look. This doesn't mention England. She was born in Australia. In, ( and she scoffs, here, ) nineteen eighty-five. Your accents though, it isn't sounding Australian to me.
( Eunike keeps holding onto the file. ) What is your name?
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[ She's not trying to grab the file, but her fingers are itching to. ]
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( Still, the file stays in her hand. )
Was it the war? Or a war, I suppose, that separated you.
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[ She sips at her coffee to avoid elaborating, then asks, ] So you're Greek?
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( There's a slowness to how she says that, but she doesn't get into incredulous specifics. )
Yes. The Nazis, they are trying to take our country, but we are still Greek. Still fighting. Stubborn and proud.
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Sorry, did you say Nazis?
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[ She's not even sure which she'd prefer, at this point. Either way, all signs are pointing toward this woman not being a clone. ]
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Germany, Italy and Bulgaria invaded my home. I have seen good people die, and my unit is now without it's second in command. Do not make it a joke.
( She takes another drag of her cigar. ) Nineteen forty-three.
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It means, little girl, that your family is more complicated than you thought.
( And she holds out the file to Sarah. )
You are worried about her. From what I hear, I shouldn't have her file. That is a new occurrence.
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[ She takes the file and uses it to wave some of the smoke away, an absent gesture. Eunike is from the 1940s. There's no reason she should look anything like Sarah, unless, like Sarissa, she's some sort of... random fluke of the multiverse. Except what are the odds she'd end up here at the same time Sarissa ports out, and why would they give her Sarissa's file?
She doesn't say any of this out loud to Eunike, just goes silent, frowning and clearly thinking hard about something. ]
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( She sips her coffee, and her gaze drops to look at Sarah's hands, assessing, looking for signs of work and wear, where the callouses are, if they are pale or tanned, soft or rough and raw. )
At least we are all good looking, eh?
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[ Sarah can't help but roll her eyes. That shit sounds like something Sarissa would say. And—suddenly there's a flash of something, not quite a memory. She leans forward. ]
What did you say your name is again?
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Eunike Karahalios. It mean "good victory."
( Dryly, that last part, and she tips back the rest of her coffee. ) Another?
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[ Suddenly the pieces are starting to fit together. The time period and the name and the accent and the scar. Oh, fuck. ]
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What is wrong?
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I know exactly who I am. Thank you for your insights.
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[ And stop giving her that smarmy look, Yia Yia. ]
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