pennysheets | Eldritch PSL: Ellever

"We've just been busy. Lots of business on the security side," she notes. Sanjay doesn't have much to do with the other side. "But you're right. We'll probably get rusty with the trivia and start losing again if we don't keep it up."

At first, Ellever hadn't cared if she'd won or lost. Simply going out and having fun in such a setting had been enough. But she and Sanjay had woken up something competitive, before long. Something they hadn't known existed, in either of them.

"I'd rather be out here, though."

She looks out at the desert sky, starting to darken.

"Going somewhere."

Going somewhere doesn't feel like anything that great, but then, every time he can remember going somewhere, it had either been alone, or with handlers aiming to drop him somewhere to kill. There'd always been fear and the buzz of knowing death was coming.

This is maybe a little different.

Different for Ellever, too, since she usually doesn't have company for these trips. So he has to ask, "Even if you're going there alone?"

"Sure."

There's a wistful gleam to Ellever's soft brown eyes as she glances over at him, briefly, and smiles. Ordinarily, she'd be putting on some music or a podcast and letting her mind mostly bliss out while driving through the sparse traffic at the edge of the California border. It isn't the end of a week; the dutiful masses aren't making Las Vegas trips just yet.

"I don't mind being alone. I usually am," she replies frankly. "It's just... sort of how things are. How they have to be."

A second later and she realizes what, exactly, spilled out of her without context. And the context is the worst part. So she shakes her head, trying to brighten.

"Besides, I get to play whatever music I want, and eat whatever snacks I want. Win-win, right?"

"Uh-huh." He eyes her sidelong for a beat, trying to work out just what that slip even means. He doesn't know what her powers are, besides being older than she looks, and being able to sense something off about him. She clearly doesn't have his actual problem, she spends time with dying humans all the time.

He doesn't think she wants to be alone, in no small part because he can't imagine ever wanting to be alone. But you don't say things like that without there being a reason, and she doesn't seem the type to just be melodramatic about having trouble making friends.

So after a moment, he asks, "Then why'd you invite me? If being alone is just the way it has to be."

It's a legitimate question, she thinks, as it spills out of him. And it would be easy enough to just shrug it off. But he deserves an answer. He'd agreed to come back to Zier with her, and he'd agreed to stay within its walls. Even if he can leave at any time, that's a measure of trust. He deserves to know.

Maybe not the whole thing, Ellever mentally concedes, as she looks out over the dry desert landscape. That could be considered an unkindness. To know about the Nine and their Children... If she wasn't embroiled into it by virtue of existing, she might prefer not to know. Even with her thirst for knowledge.

"I like your company," she says, her face withdrawn and thoughtful. "But... uh... you're different. Like me. Not exactly, but close enough. And it's nice to be around someone else who isn't..."

She pauses, trying to remember his word for it. It fits just as well in her case.

"Dying."

He frowns out the window, at that. It's not like he doesn't understand. She's literally all he's got that can talk back to him, that doesn't make him want to punch her face in or run far, far away. Which is a shitty reason to be someone's friend-- so he's not going there yet.

"Yeah, I get that." And he could leave it there. For a minute, he almost does. "So does that mean I'm exempt from whatever consequences you have for being around normal people?" Clearly they're different consequences than his, but no to supernatural monsters are the same (unless they're the Lights, anyway), so that makes sense.

"I don't know if I'd say exempt." Ellever's lips quirk up briefly as she mulls his question over. That's one thing she doesn't want to consider. Her true self and whatever horrible nonsense the research group had visited on him. "It's just nice to hang out with someone who isn't... ...normal's not the right word, but..."

She shrugs, frustrated. They supposedly have a research team to come up with categories like this, but Ellever is so far out of that box that there isn't one for her yet.

"...you know what I mean?"

"No, it's the right word," he says wearily. "I'm not normal." He wouldn't mind hanging out with someone normal, but he doesn't have that option anymore. And he does like her company well enough. She's kinder to him than anybody he can remember, and thought to drag him along on their weird little road trip, which is more than he'd have expected.

So he bucks up a little. He's not alone, either. Not completely. "Well. I'm glad you've got that, then. Guess there's not a lot of us out there who's not dying, in the end. And hey, I'm capable of actual communication." Unlike, say, Fuzz.

Her thoughts float to the other residents of the warehouse and her smile finally persists, a soft expression as she keeps her eyes on the road. Unexpected. That's a pretty good word for how this whole situation has wrangled itself out. When Ellever had tracked the Dude down, she hadn't had even a slight idea that things would pan out like this.

"And you're lucid. The Lights are horrible on road trips," she notes. "They'd just get me lost over and over again and insist I was following their directions wrong. If I listened, that is."

Which is, she thinks, one of the many things unfortunate about having to haul them back to the warehouse when they're found: ignoring all their well-intentioned babbling.

When she goes on, Ellever's voice has lowered a little in thought.

"People like to say that the weird stuff is out there, and it is, but it's never as close as they think. Finding someone who breaks the mold is nice."

He makes an amused noise. "I won't promise I won't get you lost. But I'm pretty sure I know my way around a map or a GPS app."

He props a booted foot up on the dashboard, leaning back harder against the chair. "You're the first person I ever met who wasn't dying. And I'm pretty sure I've been around a long time. So... definitely not as close as they think." After a moment of consideration, he asks, "Are there other not-dying people out there? Besides the animals in your compound."

Her eyes — somewhere between amber and hazel, gleaming close to gold in certain lights and angles — become distant as she considers the question, nodding.

"Even putting aside that there are absolutely more animals out there in the world, there's... at least eight other people," she says, slowly. "My cousins. And probably more. It's hard to say."

The truth is out there, she thinks, with no small amount of amusement, trying to dislodge the sudden uncertainty in her gut.

"The world is... full of surprises. That's been my takeaway from working for my father."

He doesn't care so much about animals. Even regular animals don't really bother him, so much. It's the company of actual people he craves.

But she's mentioned a cousin before, he's sure. "So are your cousins anything like you? Should I expect an introduction someday?" He rolls his head her way a little with half a smile. "Or are they assholes?" He's also sure he can't be the only strange non-relative of hers out there... he just wishes he knew how he got the way he did. All he knows is he didn't start out this way.

Ellever lets out a little snort, sounding almost startled by the sudden flash of amusement she feels. Talking about her cousins isn't a common affair, at the warehouse; most of the people who know of their existence — Circe, her father, for a start — prefer not to think about them at all. And neither of those people would joke about them.

"I haven't met some of them," she says, cautiously. Part of her would like to say that some of them aren't assholes — wouldn't that be great — but she lacks the information for such a claim.

"Well. Most of them. Ambarish is the one I have the most contact with, and he has... a difficult time with his own existence." Ellever frowns. "Mine's slightly easier to handle on a day to day basis, I guess. But yeah. Some of them are assholes. Like any family, we've just got—"

Voice halting as she tries to come up with the right words, she remembers the chill of the Sammelband, a facility deep under the mountains where things straight out of children's nightmares are contained. Ellever shakes her head and shoulders slightly, as if that will displace the memory.

"—bigger problems," she finishes.

"Why haven't you met?" he asks, a little surprised. "Is that part of the consequences thing too?" Hell, if he had actual family, even if some of them were assholes, he'd still want to meet them all.

Well. Maybe they're all abusive or racists or something? Though even then, just for the sake of novelty and someone to talk to, he might put up with it. Or educate them, or something. Beat them up only a little bit instead of to the death, like he normally beat people up these days.

Ellever shrugs, tilting her head to one side as she thinks about her answer. It isn't an easy topic, but it's not one she's going to shy away from. Some things should be turned over in her mind and put out into the air, instead of simply stewing in her heart all of her life.

"I don't know all of them," she says, thoughtful. "Or how to contact them. Even if I did... I dunno."

Ambarish — in theory — knows of the existence of all of the Nine's children. Whether he would part with the information is anyone's guess. More importantly, would any of her cousins want to meet her? The ones she's come into contact with weren't exactly happy to see her. Not even Ambarish, though at least he's just as stiff with her as he is with his staff. Probably just the way he is.

"It's complicated," Ellever adds, as if that isn't plainly obvious. "They're just as weird as I am, so having us all together in one place... maybe it's not a good idea."

Maybe it would start events that shouldn't unfold. Maybe it wouldn't. She can't say, either way.

"You're not that weird, Ellie," he says, laying his head back against the headrest again. "Maybe whatever makes you not-dying is weird, but that's not really what makes you you. And you seem like a pretty okay person, to me."

He kind of wants to ask what does make her not-dying. It's not the same thing as him, he knows. There was a time for him before all this, even if he doesn't remember it, he knows. But she's always been undying. Something else. And it's something in the blood, like her mysterious cousins.

He's not sure if she'd tell him if he asked.

For a second — just a second — she thinks about giving him the information he doesn't have. Ellever blinks down at the steering wheel, quiet, gripping it just a bit tighter. But then the urge passes. How would she even put it into words that wouldn't sound ridiculous? Everyone else who she's told has scoffed at her — and then, much later, looked at her differently.

He doesn't look at her like she's some sort of bomb that might go off at any moment. He thinks she's pretty okay, and that's downright extraordinary. Maybe it's selfish, she thinks, for her to keep her ancestry to herself; maybe she'll tell him in the future.

But not now, she decides, gold-brown eyes flicking back up at the road.

"Thanks," she says, glancing over at him a moment later and offering a wry smile. She means it. "I mean, I try to be an okay person. Like a lot of people. ...what would you do, if you found out you had a ton of cousins?"

He hadn't really expected her to turn it around on him, even if he'd been thinking about it. "I. Guess it depends. Do I want to kill them? Are they awful people? Are they good people that shoving me into their lives would just ruin things for them?"

Most truthful answer? "I'd probably spy on them a while first, get some intel. Then decide." He huffs out a little sigh. "I'd want them, though. The idea is-- it's nice. Having a big family." Having any family. But he's not her, and he knows she's happy enough without a lot of people in her life.

Ellever's quiet for a moment, eyes on the road. She's starting to feel vaguely fatigued, the endless stretch of desert burning into her eyes. But it's oddly satisfying — the mark of a long journey, and this is only the first leg of it. The sun overhead is as bright as it's going to be all day, making the dirt and rocks of Nevada blinding.

There's life there, hiding; waiting for night to come.

"I wouldn't know," she says, tapping the wheel idly with her fingertips. "There's only ever just been me and dad. And Circe, I guess. Most of the employees were pretty nice to me, growing up, but... most of the time, it felt like it was just me and dad."

Looking out onto the cityscape of Los Angeles, being told that she could only go out at certain times. Wondering and imagining what it was like to know a bunch of kids had been her only reprieve from the loneliness. And technically, it hadn't been a reprieve at all — just something to tide her over whenever her father was out on a trip.

"But," she says slowly, "it does sound nice."

"I mean, I wouldn't know, either." He brings a hand up to tap at his temple and his general dearth of memories. If at one point he had a family, knowledge of them is long gone. "But I'm also not the one with a bunch of cousins who I can't ever meet."

He's thought about it some, since Elle picked him up, but even if there was-- he couldn't meet them, either. "Now that I've thoroughly depressed us both. Maybe we should talk about something else."

Ellever barks out a little laugh — a good, genuine laugh, something she doesn't get to do a lot of. Not at her companion's situation, of course, but of the situation broadly. They were both stuck in such strange circumstances. If they ever tried to smalltalk, the smalltalk would just shatter into a thousand pieces; it wouldn't know what hit it.

"It's okay," she assures him, rather brightly, "I'm used to being a little down in the dumps."

Sometimes she just liked to curl up on her couch in the office with a book. Sometimes she went out onto the shooting range. Sometimes she fell asleep at her computer. Ellever should have long adapted to her situation, perhaps, but she still sometimes wished for something that was different. A little daydream before reality hit her like a truck full of bricks.

"You gonna be okay at a motel, or should I just pull off and we can sleep in the van? It's decently cozy, back there."

She shouldn't have to feel down in the dumps. She's not a bad person, she's smart and friendly-- she's not a goddamn murder machine. But he's not sure how to say that without making himself more upset.

Thankfully, she has their change of subject all ready. He... seriously considers it for a minute. "Let's give a motel a shot, if we can find one that's pretty empty. If it doesn't work, I can always come out and sleep in the car myself, and then we'll know for tomorrow night." And it gives them the option of a shower and tv for a little while, before he hits any kind of limit on bugging out and killing everyone in the building.

She nods, sitting up a bit straighter in her seat to keep an eye out. Ellever's been on enough road trips to be able to eyeball a decent motel from the outside. There are certain things it's okay for them to skimp on — and certain things it's not — and being able to survey what they're spending money on tells her what they aren't. Not that she's foolproof.

But a place that looks like a serial killer den probably is, out here.

"Cool," she says, smiling. Given the choice, a shower is nice. But she would have been happy to curl up in her seat, too. It's not like she needs much sleep. "I'll look for one that doesn't have that many cars. If it's emptyish, there's one coming up here called the Red Door Inn that has decent mattresses. And no bed bugs. A good combo."

As it turns out, when it passes on the right, there's only one or two cars in the tiny lot and the windows are all dark. There's nothing notable about the Red Door Inn, it looks precisely like every other single-story motel on the side of a highway. The planters in front of the room windows are all bare dirt, and the room numbers have nearly faded away. But the desert around them is expansive, scenic, and empty, and the stars give a lovely and bright show above them. She pulls up into a spot somewhat away from the others, more to do with driving a large van than anything else. Ellever glances over.

"What do you think? I'll go grab us a room?"

"It looks terrible," he says, only about half-seriously. "Let's go for it.." He peers around, from one end of the motel building to the other. He doesn't, yet, have any urges to kill anything. "Hell, even if they try to put up next to somebody, I can just break into an empty one the furthest from any people."

He unbuckles but doesn't get up. "I'm gonna stay here while you go in, though. Seems safer."

Ellever lets out a mildly gleeful, agreeing ha! in response to his first words, grinning. It doesn't look great. None of these places do. And yet, there's a certain serial-killer-esque charm to it. She has yet to meet any serial killers on any of these jaunts to study cryptids, and part of her is mildly disappointed by that fact — if she's honest.

"Sounds good," she agrees, opening the door and swinging a leg out. "I'll go see if it's the same lady."

It is, as a matter of fact. Ellever tries her best not to think about how she must have fallen asleep on a tanning bed in order to get the particular texture her skin is. She simply pays for the room in advance, accepts a key, and then walks back to the van again.

"I got us room 30. On the end," she notes. "If that works for you? She didn't seem surprised. I guess I struck her as odd the last time, too."

Eldritch PSL: Ellever

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

I promise I have not forgotten about this!

I'm glacial, don't even worry!

hey not sure if you wanna come back to this, so sorry it took me 2.5 months...

it's all good. c:

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject