[Unfortunately for Anathema's nerves, this next reply is slow in coming. What's that strange question mark for, she wonders immediately, right behind—oh. An obvious realization at the nearly-last moment. What a dipshit. Like dodging a sudden explosion by the skin of her teeth, she takes a breath and wonders just when and where this conversation started heading in that direction.
Did you really think it wouldn't come up?
It's become such a deliberate knee-jerk reaction to avoid that, to protect Anathema somehow, but she looks down at that tiny question and, strangely, doesn't feel any worry or panic. So many months she's been questioning who she is here and who she wants to be. How to protect those few people she cares about, if not from other kinds of danger than certainly her past.
It's the freedom of this place, that ability to choose all of those things, that's been more frightening than anything else. Sal stands on the edge of the rooftop, looking down at the people passing below like some thoughtful bird of prey. Realizing that several minutes have passed, she starts to type again.]
It's only a date if you wear something cute. Promise I'll be there, 6:00.
[She smiles at herself, pleased. It's a joke, of course. Anathema looks great in anything, if she's being fucking honest about it. But that's the last message she types, and instead of furthering the conversation, she flies back up into the comfort of the open sky.
Sal spends the rest of her time at home cleaning up, taking a long, hot shower, and finding a nice set of clothes that she hasn't fought, frayed, or bled in. The gun and the sword, and even her nice red scarf, stay at home; along with the needy cat too, who she somehow remembers to feed before leaving. With everything in its place (probably?) she makes her way to that familiar residence over in Jeopardy.
When it comes to meeting Anathema, someone with a perfect sense of time, there's no real way to be early. So Sal just settles for arriving vaguely on time instead, landing down on the lawn and making her way over to the door. She might not be nervous or worried as she approaches, but there's a sudden jolt of energy as she gets closer, the kind she gets right before a fight.
Sal's got a key, she remembers, and she takes it out to unlock the door. She knocks a few times anyway, just so some strange roommate doesn't leap out to attack her, before slowly opening the door and peering inside.]
no subject
Did you really think it wouldn't come up?
It's become such a deliberate knee-jerk reaction to avoid that, to protect Anathema somehow, but she looks down at that tiny question and, strangely, doesn't feel any worry or panic. So many months she's been questioning who she is here and who she wants to be. How to protect those few people she cares about, if not from other kinds of danger than certainly her past.
It's the freedom of this place, that ability to choose all of those things, that's been more frightening than anything else. Sal stands on the edge of the rooftop, looking down at the people passing below like some thoughtful bird of prey. Realizing that several minutes have passed, she starts to type again.]
It's only a date if you wear something cute. Promise I'll be there, 6:00.
[She smiles at herself, pleased. It's a joke, of course. Anathema looks great in anything, if she's being fucking honest about it. But that's the last message she types, and instead of furthering the conversation, she flies back up into the comfort of the open sky.
Sal spends the rest of her time at home cleaning up, taking a long, hot shower, and finding a nice set of clothes that she hasn't fought, frayed, or bled in. The gun and the sword, and even her nice red scarf, stay at home; along with the needy cat too, who she somehow remembers to feed before leaving. With everything in its place (probably?) she makes her way to that familiar residence over in Jeopardy.
When it comes to meeting Anathema, someone with a perfect sense of time, there's no real way to be early. So Sal just settles for arriving vaguely on time instead, landing down on the lawn and making her way over to the door. She might not be nervous or worried as she approaches, but there's a sudden jolt of energy as she gets closer, the kind she gets right before a fight.
Sal's got a key, she remembers, and she takes it out to unlock the door. She knocks a few times anyway, just so some strange roommate doesn't leap out to attack her, before slowly opening the door and peering inside.]