sixthiterationlogs | closed-ish | it means 'remember me' in the language of flowers

Entry tags:

closed-ish | it means 'remember me' in the language of flowers

WHO: Elektra Natchios
WHERE: Forest --- > Village ---> House 3
WHEN: Nov. 20
OPEN TO: Matt Murdock, Zevran | anyone she might reasonably stumble into along the path above - PM for closed starters
WARNINGS: warnings associated with Zevran, memory loss, references to brainwashing and death

Closed to Matthew Murdock |

It starts off as a joke. She's absolutely disgusting from deep cleaning up their home so she may as well go for a run in the woods. It wouldn't take longer than a half hour. Maybe he could run her a hot bath as payment for doing all the hard work to keep them healthy while everyone around them seemed to be succumbing to illness. A half hour comes and goes. Elektra doesn't manage to find her way back through sheer luck and muscle memory until a full two hours later.

If that isn't enough of a tip off that something is wrong, her walk would do it. She's loud as she stumbles through the front door and makes her way to the kitchen. There's an air of panic about her that doesn't suit Elektra. She only seems to calm down a little when the water from the sink hits her face and some of the fine powder comes off. Give it time though. She doesn't remember a man lives here with her.

Closed to Zevran |

Before Elektra shows up to her house largely by accident, she's running in the woods. She doesn't consider dangers like dust moths robbing her of her memories. She doesn't even consider the man with pointy ears a threat. He does look curious, unique in a way she's never seen before. She pretends to stop for a stretch if only to have an excuse to talk to him. "You don't look the type who worries about getting his steps in." Elektra quips as she looks him over. He really is one of a kind from her point of view.

[ooc; PM for closed starters! Let me know if you want Elektra with or without memories.]

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He wasn't sure how long she'd be going for and while Matthew was still in his clingy phase, he starts to get anxious past the twenty-minute mark. He has little sense of how time passes in a slower-paced environment outside of New York City, so the minutes feel longer than they really are.

Matt has been mindful of not driving her away with his dependency, so he tries to keep himself occupied while she's gone. He's been reluctant to leave the house so the time he's spent indoors he's put to use by making the place a little more blind-friendly. He made labels by poking holes through scrap paper. Where a handrail would be useful he's tried to fashion something out of old bits of rope and anything else he can find. He can count his steps around the house and avoid furniture by now, but the simplest tasks like telling his clothes apart and pouring out a drink without overflowing is still a challenge that shatters his confidence every time he burns himself or knocks something over.

After an hour that felt like three had passed, Matt thinks to page her on her device. He paces a little nervously and rubs his device, deliberating on whether he should or shouldn't. After a few minutes he decides against it, fighting off the nerves and the voice in his head that tells him she's gone again, for good this time. She's just busy or running errands or catching up with Frank, or something. It's no cause for concern.

He's in his room getting changed ready to go out looking for her when he hears the door open and her footsteps rumbling through the floorboards. Relief washes over him and he stumbles out a moment later, approaching the kitchen slowly, tilting his head as his face comes into the light.

"...hey. Elektra?"

The last two hours have been a blur of confusion for her as she made her way back home. Bit by bit memories disappeared on her. It was as simple as which way she was taking home, long or short? By the end it was as terrible as not recognizing her hands as she looked down. Elektra can be forgiven if the first thing she does is grab a pair of kitchen scissors and point them at the man entering the room.

The fact that he doesn't seem to react to it at all is as confusing as everything else. She swallows her fear and asks the only relevant question that comes to mind. "Who the Hell is Elektra?"

He can't hear the scissors so he takes a small step forward, and then another. He gives her his signature confused headtilt as his eyebrows rise. He only stops because he's not yet confident enough to take his hand away from the wall. It sounds like her, so why is she asking him that?

"...you are?" It sounds like a question when his voice curls upwards like that. Uncertainty glimmers in his eyes as he stares straight through her torso. What the Hand had done to her came to mind almost immediately, and he's not at all equipped to handle her if she's going to go on a murderous rampage.

"What happened?"

It occurs to her slowly that he isn't looking at her. Elektra lowers the scissors as she stares at him in open confusion. He doesn't seem anymore convinced who she is than she is. That cannot be a good sign. She dutifully explains what she does know rather than dwell on it. When she does recover, she'll have to wonder why she was so eager to listen to the first person she ran into.

"I got lost in the woods." Elektra laughs hollowly and pushes back some stray hair with her free hand. "I don't... I think I knew why I was there, but I lost it. I kept losing things. Is that normal?"

Taking in a deep breath, Matt leaves the safety of the wall by his side and reaches out towards her, raising a hand with his palm upturned expecting her to take it.

"...it's normal for us, yes," Matt can't help but say with a small laugh. "You went out for a run. You were gone for a long time." Well, it wasn't that long, but it felt long to him.

"Did you bump into someone, or something? Are you hurt?"

She takes the hand outstretched into hers as if it's the most natural thing in the world. Elektra quietly returns the scissors back to its rightful place. She doesn't think she needs them now when the very contact of his skin to hers makes it easier to breathe. He isn't going to hurt her.

His questions help connect some doubts for her. She leans forward as she realizes what really brought her here. "I ran into something. That's why I wanted water. I wanted to wash it off." She glances at the sink. The dust is largely safely down the drain at this point, but there's just enough to confirm her suspicions. She knew whatever did this to her must be linked to it. She came her to try to help herself.

Speaking of suspicions, Elektra glances back at him and voices another. "You can't see me, can you?"

He hears the scissors but can't tell them apart from any other piece of cutlery, mug or crockery so he doesn't act any different. She hasn't unleashed her murderous rampage on him just yet so while he's a little apprehensive, he isn't that uncomfortable that he wouldn't put both his hands on her.

"Ran into something? What, Jessica Jones?" Don't laugh, it's a bad, borderline judgemental joke at an alcoholic's expense.

"No. But I'm sure it's you." He reaches up to touch her cheek and if she doesn't pull back or get hostile at him, he will tuck some of her hair behind her ear. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"I don't know who that is." She points out frankly. It's a joke that needs context! All that said, Elektra stiffens some, but allows the contact. It makes her feel even better. Elektra leans into the contact after a second in order to absorb that comfort further. She does draw away when he tries to touch her hair. She can't be sure she got off the remaining dust there too. For some reason she wants to protect him from whatever has harmed her.

"I was running. I saw something strange on the trees. Something flew at me." She chews on the bottom of her lip as she tries to focus. "I did fall." She recalls suddenly. Elektra tries not to let that distract her. "I need to be sure it's off. Where's the bathroom?"

The context will come to her at some stage. He's not going to try and introduce too much new information to her while she's still finding her bearings.

"Okay." Well, that's not some mystical ninja stuff so that's something even though he has no idea what happened to her. He turns and starts to walk, hoping she will follow.

"Just make sure you're not bleeding," he says over his shoulder before he takes her through the doorway, makes a sharp right, counts his steps and reaches out for the door to the bathroom on the left.

Elektra follows after him like a stray puppy. Some obvious questions spring to mind as she does. Why does she trust him so completely? Who is this even? Why does his concern for her well-being cause her to feel so good? That second one is at least safe territory. She touches on it as she crosses the threshold into the bathroom. She goes to sit on the floor and gets to work taking off her boots.

"How do I know you?"

He turns his hand, holding onto the doorframe, and leans against it once he's comfortable that they're in the right place. He'd offer to help but so far he's only made things worse by 'helping', tripping over furniture or breaking things, so he's staying firmly out of this.

"We met a long time ago. We used to be an item." Now they are sort of two items. Or one and a half items. Or a Schrodinger half-dead half-alive item. Matt's making it complicated again. He's debating between telling her the whole truth and nothing but the truth, or dressing it up nicely. He doesn't know how long this is going to last after all. Unfortunately, for a lawyer he's a real shitty liar, so he's keeping it vague for now.

"Do you remember anything before you went for your run?"

Her brow furrows as she processes the information. A relationship would explain why she trusts him and thinks nothing of stripping in front of him. It doesn't explain why he's here. He's asking a question so that thought has to be put on hold for the time being. She shakes her with a soft huff. "Nothing." It's frustrating. She knows things clearly. She has no issues speaking or taking off her shoes. Memories of people and places continue to elude her.

"Is this my house?" She asks suddenly. "What are you doing here if we're no longer an item?"

"Okay." That's fine. Everything is fine. She hasn't taken a sharp object and tried to stick it in him so he won't panic about her going Hand assassin on him just yet. He wouldn't last three seconds in his current state.

"Sort of. It was vacant when we moved in." 'We', so clearly they're not no longer an item. Or at least, he doesn't think of her as his ex anymore even though he's not sure what the correct term is anymore.

"We're. Fucking." Shifty eyes. "...not sure. If we're. Back to dating. You and I we... we never quite did things the way everyone else does." Matt breathes a sigh. He feels uncomfortable telling her that she should love him because that's not how love works. But he doesn't want to leave her alone when she's in this state either.

"I can leave if you need some time, and space."

He is a confusing man to follow. They seem to do whatever they want. That's... appealing? She thinks? Elektra sheds the rest of her clothing and heads over the to tub. "I don't think that's what I want. I want..." She turns on the water and goes to rinse whatever is left of the dust out of her hair. Good riddance. "I don't want this to happen to you. I don't want you gone." If it sounds like a process of elimination for her, well, nice observation skills. She didn't even have what she wanted fully pinned down with her memories.

"Alright. I'm here." For whatever that's worth. He flashes her a tight-lipped smile and stays by the doorway. He can hear the tap going and he misses the way he used to be able to 'see' everything through water.

"You should stay in this house, regardless of what happens." At least until she starts to remember things... or makes new memories if it comes down to that.

"...Beg pardon?" Normally he has a better line on hand when approached by a beautiful woman but- it may have well been Qunlat. All the same interest is interest and he knows the look of someone looking someone else over- and knows what it is to be seen so keenly and, well. Apparently he is a unique sight for most people in the village, which is strange enough. "Ah, you mean I am fit! Yes, I am. You seem to be as well. Quite fit."

"How nice of you to notice." Elektra replies sweetly as she stretches out her leg against a tree and switches to the other. "Are you new here?"

"I have only just arrived, Mia Bella-" hen in doubt- not that there is much doubt here, oh no- flirt. "And I must say if all the women in this place are as lovely as you? I may never wish to leave."

"I don't know about that." She grins widely. Elektra as always is the humblest women. There's nothing wrong with knowing you're incredibly beautiful because tons of strange men and women tell you so. "I will say I haven't seen an ugly woman in this village. The men can be a bit hit or miss." Francis definitely isn't pretty for example!

"Is that not the way of men? Too many assume to be a hulking brute is considered beauty when a strong jawline or trim waist would suffice, but women? Oh, women are all lovely." In their poise, in their softness, in their quick determination. it might be merely the women of Antiva but something tells him the ladies of this place? Are not so far off.

She grins in genuine amusement. It's actually not too often people agree with her. He actually seems to mean it too. "I really do love the way you think. We might have to be friends."

"Mia Bella? I may very well have to insist. Someone as lovely and quick witted as yourself truly deserves only the best of companions." And he would argue, quite a bit, in favor of being the best possible companion.

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closed-ish | it means 'remember me' in the language of flowers

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