Private Convo with Beatrice, Saturday, approximately 12-PM

[caineraisingproject]

Keenan slept like a log. That was terrifying in and of itself.

And two of the people he had spoken to mentioned surviving a world with games like this one - one of them actually admitting to being the mastermind of a murder mystery.

He's not sure why he's reaching out to that self-described Witch. Maybe it was her standing offer of listening to her story and believing it, although that wasn't too hard to find. Maybe it was wanting to trade his story for hers. And maybe...

Probably it was wanting to survive, and wanting pointers from someone who had experience. Keenan was willing to admit he was that cynical.

Which is why he slipped an invitation to the lunch and poker game under her door, adding "If you want to hear my story, come early."

If she comes - when she comes - he's in the kitchen, slicing a whole bunch of tomatoes.

Comments

[awitchdidit]

Beatrice isn't so rude as to turn down an invitation, although she has to wonder if Keenan's calmed down at all from the shock at her implications the previous day. In between her supply-runs, she heads to the kitchen for lunch...previously-purloined steak knife secured in her dress at the small of her back just in case he intends to be proactive and judges her a likely culprit. Not that she'd blame him.

"I must say, I'm glad someone is being thoughtful about cooking," she says as a means of announcing herself entering the kitchen. "I'm not sure we can entirely rely on the 'personnel' for food needs."

[caineraisingproject]

"It's a way of making my life seem a little more normal," Keenan says. "Keeps me calm, keeps everyone else calm, and if you wanna be cynical, keeps me popular and looking like the standup guy I am."

He sounds a little bitter, still. But it doesn't seem directed at Beatrice.

"Course, it was a risk for you to come here alone after getting a sketchy-ass note from someone. You tell anyone? Probably would have been smart to, even though I'm not gonna try anything stupid."

He sighs. "Thinking this way is EXHAUSTING, Beatrice."

[awitchdidit]

"Is there any reason for me to answer that question with something other than 'yes'?" she counters lightly, striding into the room. "Whether I did or not, there's no benefit to me saying otherwise."

She glances at her nails. "Personally, I find this kind of game invigorating. But I get the sense you prefer more physical activities to mental gymnastics."

[caineraisingproject]

"You would say that." He doesn't choose to elaborate on if he means her finding the game invigorating or the implied insult to his intelligence. "And... there are very few people back home who would call me stupid. The exception is wrong and just mad that I had a fling with a friend of hers. But when I'm smart, it's about fighting an enemy I can see in open war. Not... this paranoia mongering. Not figuring out whodunnit or being whodunnit."

He's finished with the tomatoes. He's getting oven mitts.

"But this. You just pretty much said it was your bread and butter, back then at the announcement and then now. I'd be an idiot to trust you. And here we are."

[awitchdidit]

"None of us know the other or, frankly, have any reason to trust anyone," Beatrice says seriously. "I didn't call you stupid, and won't as long as you keep that in mind."

"That said...I have no motivation to hurt you, and I doubt our captor will conjure one. Frankly, I'd rather focus on the greater culprit anyway - who brought us here and how," she admits. "Regardless of my past, I've never killed without a reason."

[caineraisingproject]

"Oh, sure. No reason at all, either way; one way or another Doctor Feelbad needs to get hers. Though I would really, really like to hear about that past right about now, Beatrice."

Keenan takes a tray of toast out of the oven. Then he puts it down, turns, and smiles.

It's not his usual wide grin. It's tight-lipped. But it still reaches his eyes.

"But you asked for mine first. So. I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

[awitchdidit]

Beatrice purses her lips, thinking. "I take it that you'd mainly consider the time I spent running one of these scenarios to be relevant, rather than my full thousand years, so I suppose I'll start from the end, yes?"

She hefts herself up to sit on a counter, eyeing the toast. She did come here for lunch, after all, and that looks like the beginnings of a nice bruschetta.

"To begin with, there's an island off the coast of Japan called Rokkenjima. There was but one family who lived there, in a tiny part of the island. The rest, the wilds, was mine."

"Once upon a time, I made a bargain with their patriarch, Kinzo Ushiromiya. Fabulous wealth that he would pay back to me at the end of his life," she continues. "When he neared the end of his life, his greedy children came to claim this wealth, and, well...I gave them a sporting chance, but they wound up serving as interest. Humans will do anything for money. I'll do anything to hold up a bargain."

[caineraisingproject]

Keenan had stations with bacon, lettuce, tomato and now toast set up. It didn't take a genius to see what plans he had for mass-produced lunch.

"When I'm done with them you can have a couple, or maybe some of the quesadillas I'm making," he says. "Making iced tea, punch, and lemonade too. No booze yet, though. Hey, I invited you for lunch and poker, too. That offer stands."

He shakes his head. "But man. Here we are back at faerie tales. You never, ever make a bargain with those glamorous guys who 'live in the wild.' Ever. And if you do, you keep a receipt, and you check the exact words. Still. That's cold."

Keenan is seeming to take Beato's claims of being a witch at face value. And he's alone with her. That might prove interesting later.

"And now here you are, being given a 'sporting chance,' along with me. Anything else you feel like adding before I start my long and tragic story?"

[awitchdidit]

She smirks. "I could write a novel about what happened there. Have, really. The details are less important to note than the general idea. People don't make scenarios like this unwinnable. You may be unwilling or unable to satisfy their conditions, but the game has a solution."

Beatrice studies her nails again. She really wants her pipe back. It gives her something to do with her hands. "And I do consider this a game, rather than an experiment. I'm not convinced the beautiful doctor is more than a front as it is, and the scientist in our group has done nothing but critique the experimental method here. Thinking of it as a battle of wits is better than considering ourselves test subjects, at any rate."

[caineraisingproject]

Keenan nods. It's a sensible way of putting it. Even if they think of themselves as a scientist, it's one who's playing a game wrapped up in the skin of a science experiment.

"Sounds like interesting reading. Wouldn't know if I'd file it with Grimm or Christie. Or hell, Butcher. But... Yuuki would definitely want it for the Archives."

Keenan starts spreading mayo thin on the toast for his assembly line.

"I know what genre my story is in. Postapocalyptic YA fiction bullshit. It starts off with all the adults in the world falling asleep with this... blissed out expression, then throws in Nightmares striding in, from our dreams through the ocean to the Wake, for a turning point."

He goes quiet for a second. There, mayo is done; half the toast is coated. On to the lettuce.

"Even I don't know how I survived until I could fight back, but it was like that for 5 years before we could do anything about it."

[awitchdidit]

Beatrice crosses her legs and bounces one foot, listening attentively, like she's sitting on a chair instead of a stainless steel countertop.

"Your story isn't far off from a fairy tale either," she says. "All the men and women of the kingdom asleep, with only the youths to save them. How do you fight back against Nightmares, exactly?"

[caineraisingproject]

"With love as my weapon and trust as my armor," he says, immediately, without hesitation.

Then he clarifies. "There's a - a device, a weapon, that we stole from the aliens. Huge enough that we needed to put it in it's own Creche, with it's own generator, and it needs two people to work it. One is the Pilot, who crawls into one of its Cradles and falls asleep, dreaming of victory, calling on the spirit of those they care for as weapons and armor. One's the Anchor, who keeps us from drifting off. Keeps us grounded. Wakes us up, and shrinks our head."

His smile gets painful. "You don't have to be involved with your Anchor, but it helps. Last thing I remember before getting here was Yuuki breaking up with me. And..."

He shakes his head. "And frankly I deserved it, but that's not important right now."

[awitchdidit]

"Hm. So rather than drift forever in a dream, you're brought back to reality by love, is that it?" she wonders. "I can see it..."

She doesn't really care about your relationship problems, KC, any more than you care about hers. And she's got a lot more.

"It's amazing what humans can do with the right tools, though. Assaulted by the otherworldly, you take their abilities and make them your own. It's the same reason humans started summoning and binding demons..."

[caineraisingproject]

He didn't think she would care about his relationship drama, to be frank. That's not why he wanted to talk.

"Not only brought back to reality, but made us able to mess with the Dream. Anchors do most of direct messing with the landscape, but Pilots make the weapons. Without the ANIMa, I can't do it. With it..."

He shakes his head. "What's left of humanity does what it does best: take fire from the gods and run."

Lettuce is layered. On to tomato. "You've been the one in charge of a game like this, For whatever reasons. You wanna call it protecting your own interests, enforcing a deal, I won't argue. That means you're the one here most likely to know what the mastermind is thinking. Am I wrong?"

[awitchdidit]

"I can certainly make more educated guesses," she says, shrugging, "and I'm always willing to consider the game from my opponent's perspective. What they want, though, and even who they are..."

She's still not sure the doctor isn't just a pretty face or a patsy, after all.

"Like I said, educated guesses. I can say what I would do, but I make no guarantees."

[caineraisingproject]

"Still one of the only ones with a flashlight while we're groping in the dark," Keenan says.

And now he's layering on the bacon.

"I'm not saying I trust you. I'm saying that until you earn that trust, I'm gonna give you the benefit of the doubt. It's... worked so far, and my world's got a bad case of paranoia. Not sure what that's worth from some punk teenager, but there you go."