Post by Helena Sawyer on Nov 28, 2016 8:04:56 GMT
Michelle sat in the corner of the bed, knees pulled up to her chest. Grace had already packed her things, and she looked over as she slung her purse over her shoulder. "Hey. Stop beating yourself up. It's a few matches."
"I know it was." Michelle replied quietly. "And I'm not happy I'm taking it this hard. I slipped, Grace. My performance slipped. That wasn't Helena last week, that was Michelle wearing Helena's paint. I'm better than this."
Grace walked over, sitting down next to Michelle, and reached over, taking her hand. "I know you are, baby. And I know you're tired and worried. Maybe...maybe you need to stop worrying about wins and losses. That's not why you're here. Maybe...maybe Helena's journey for purpose isn't just about winning."
Michelle sighed, nodding. "I know. Loss and setbacks give a better arc for us to go through, but...I was doing so well. I was on a roll, it was like I couldn't lose, and then...it was so nice to be successful like that, you know?"
Grace nodded back, running a hand through Michelle's hair. "Hey. Pretty girl. Look at me." Michelle looked over, meeting Grace's eyes, and Grace leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on her lips. "We fall for a reason. Why do we fall?"
"I swear to Christ, if you think you can just quote Michael Caine at me—" Grace reached up and placed her finger on Michelle's lips, smiling. Michelle huffed to herself, nodding, and Grace pulled her finger back. "...we fall so we can learn to pick ourselves up."
Grace nodded, a pleased smile spreading across her face. "Right. So, what I'm seeing...is that you need to learn how to pick yourself back up. You know how to do it. You just...need to apply that to your new job. I wish I could stay, but..."
"You have work, I know. I'm not the only one with a life here." Michelle smiled up at Grace, sighing. "Thank you. I think I'm taking things better than I would have if you hadn't been here for me." She leaned over, kissing Grace on the cheek again. "Now get going. You've got a plane to catch."
Grace sighed, nodding, and looked at the door forlornly. "I'll call when I get home, I promise."
"You better." Michelle grinned. "Now go on. I hate to see you go..."
"...but you love to watch me leave." Grace finished the sentence, rolling her eyes. "Pervert. Why do I date you?"
"Because I'm pretty." Michelle fluttered her eyelashes, grinning. "And because you love me. And I love you."
"I love you too." Grace leaned over, stealing another kiss from Michelle. "Okay, I really do need to go. Bye!" Grace darted out the door, Michelle leaning over to watch her run.
"Bye!" she called after her, sighing as she stood and closed the door. Michelle leaned against the closed door, flipping the latch shut, and closed her eyes, murmuring to herself. "Jesus...what do I do?"
A familiar voice responded to the question, glee in its voice. "You listen to her," As the words echoed in the confined space, Michelle's eyes snapped open, full of fear.
"Oh no."
"Ohh yes." the voice replied, Michelle dimly aware that it had come from her own mouth. "You may act like you don't hear me, Michelle...but we both know better. Now, sit down on the bed again. Look in the mirror."
Michelle complied, nodding slowly as she sat down. The image in the mirror was eerily familiar: instead of what she should be seeing, before her she saw her reflection, fully painted and wearing Helena's gear. No. Not her reflection...Michelle found her voice again. "What do you want?"
The reflection moved independently of Michelle, rocking back into a kneeling position and steepling her fingers. Helena grinned back at Michelle, flashing a quick wave at her. "What do I want? Not much, really. A pony. Enlightenment. Oh...and we need to talk." She smiled broadly, tilting her head to the side as Michelle fell back, hand reaching up to her mouth in shock...
Our scene opens on Helena sitting atop a marble sarcophagus in the middle of a graveyard, mist hanging in the air as the dreary day seems to settle over things like a shroud. Gone is the mourner's dress, gone is all the extravagant ornamentation. Indeed, in just her patient's gown and facepaint, Helena seems oddly bare. Her voice echoes in the emptiness of the graveyard, fading into the mist with every sentence.
"Sometimes I forget. Sometimes, I forget who I am. I let all those other voices tell me what to do, and...it hurts me. And not in a good way. They've been getting louder lately. And sometimes, I just...want to...shut them up!"
As if to punctuate the statement, Helena hammers the side of her head with a closed fist. Her head rocks, but she shakes herself clear of the cobwebs again, looking up and into the camera.
"But I'm stronger than they are. They can complain and whine about me all they like. But they're not who's important. I am. And as long as I learn...as long as I listen to the one voice that matters, she will never guide me awry. Of course...that doesn't mean I can't listen to anyone else, right?"
Helena chuckles, slipping off the tomb. She wriggles her bare feet in the grass, smiling and closing her eyes as she enjoys herself. She begins walking through the graveyard, eyes still closed, weaving among the tombstones with an unconscious ease.
"I want to listen to the voices that tell me to trust you, Pandora. I do. I tried. But then there are the other ones...the ones that remind me that you were all too happy to take advantage of my misfortune. I learned from that. Do you know what I learned? It's a lesson I've been taught so many times: people will always seize the moment for themselves, no matter the cost. I don't know why I believe differently still. Maybe it's because I'm a good person?"
Helena pauses, opening her eyes, and snorts before bursting into a paroxysm of laughter. She holds her stomach, leaning up against a tombstone, as her delighted peals of laughter cut through the mist and fog. After a few seconds, Helena manages to straighten up again.
"No...that's not it. I'm not a good person. I've never been a good person. That's what everyone's always told me. And...I think you're realizing that you're not a good person either, Pan. Can I call you Pan? You call me Hel, I think it's only fair. You're not a good person. You're a free person. The clue was right there in your name. Freeman. You don't care about good and evil. You just care about what you want. What you feel. And...that's not a bad thing."
Helena shakes her head, walking forward with a serene smile on her face as she casually vaults over another headstone.
"It's good. You need this. So did I. Stop worrying about what everyone thinks. Just...do what feels right. Don't obsess over the Shieldmaiden. I fell into that trap, and...well, you saw the me that you got. It wasn't me. It was a shell of me. And really, it wasn't fair to you. So how about this week I make it up to you, Pan?"
She tilts her head, smiling brightly into the camera, and reaches down, scooping a bunch of roses off of the nearest grave as she walks along, almost seeming to skip. She comes to a halt, though, and pauses, sinking to one knee before looking up into the camera.
"Pandora Eris Freeman, I promise you from the bottom of my heart, deep in the pit where it lies, that I will not allow anything to come between us and a perfect night. You will get me. The real me. All of my sorrow, all of my hurt, all of my rage, unfiltered and pure. Because you deserve it. And you? Listen to the voice. The one that tells you to cut loose and never look back. Trust me...you'll be so much happier with yourself when you do."
Helena reaches another sarcophagus, this one with a life-size statue of a rearing horse upon it. She hops up, grabbing the horse's neck, and swings up into the saddle, resting comfortably on its back. Helena pulls a rose from the bunch with her teeth, grinning as the thorns prod her mouth, and pulls it out with her other hand, letting the others drop to the ground below. She offers it to the camera with a mischievous grin.
"So, I suppose the only thing left to do is say...may I have this dance? I sure hope so. I haven't danced with anyone quite like you in a long time. I just hope you're as good as I think you will be. We both could use a good dance. I'll see you soon. And may the fittest survive."
Helena blows a kiss to the camera, giggling, and grabs the statue's reins, striking a pose as the sun briefly filters through the mist, haloing her on the horse as we fade to white.
"I know it was." Michelle replied quietly. "And I'm not happy I'm taking it this hard. I slipped, Grace. My performance slipped. That wasn't Helena last week, that was Michelle wearing Helena's paint. I'm better than this."
Grace walked over, sitting down next to Michelle, and reached over, taking her hand. "I know you are, baby. And I know you're tired and worried. Maybe...maybe you need to stop worrying about wins and losses. That's not why you're here. Maybe...maybe Helena's journey for purpose isn't just about winning."
Michelle sighed, nodding. "I know. Loss and setbacks give a better arc for us to go through, but...I was doing so well. I was on a roll, it was like I couldn't lose, and then...it was so nice to be successful like that, you know?"
Grace nodded back, running a hand through Michelle's hair. "Hey. Pretty girl. Look at me." Michelle looked over, meeting Grace's eyes, and Grace leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on her lips. "We fall for a reason. Why do we fall?"
"I swear to Christ, if you think you can just quote Michael Caine at me—" Grace reached up and placed her finger on Michelle's lips, smiling. Michelle huffed to herself, nodding, and Grace pulled her finger back. "...we fall so we can learn to pick ourselves up."
Grace nodded, a pleased smile spreading across her face. "Right. So, what I'm seeing...is that you need to learn how to pick yourself back up. You know how to do it. You just...need to apply that to your new job. I wish I could stay, but..."
"You have work, I know. I'm not the only one with a life here." Michelle smiled up at Grace, sighing. "Thank you. I think I'm taking things better than I would have if you hadn't been here for me." She leaned over, kissing Grace on the cheek again. "Now get going. You've got a plane to catch."
Grace sighed, nodding, and looked at the door forlornly. "I'll call when I get home, I promise."
"You better." Michelle grinned. "Now go on. I hate to see you go..."
"...but you love to watch me leave." Grace finished the sentence, rolling her eyes. "Pervert. Why do I date you?"
"Because I'm pretty." Michelle fluttered her eyelashes, grinning. "And because you love me. And I love you."
"I love you too." Grace leaned over, stealing another kiss from Michelle. "Okay, I really do need to go. Bye!" Grace darted out the door, Michelle leaning over to watch her run.
"Bye!" she called after her, sighing as she stood and closed the door. Michelle leaned against the closed door, flipping the latch shut, and closed her eyes, murmuring to herself. "Jesus...what do I do?"
A familiar voice responded to the question, glee in its voice. "You listen to her," As the words echoed in the confined space, Michelle's eyes snapped open, full of fear.
"Oh no."
"Ohh yes." the voice replied, Michelle dimly aware that it had come from her own mouth. "You may act like you don't hear me, Michelle...but we both know better. Now, sit down on the bed again. Look in the mirror."
Michelle complied, nodding slowly as she sat down. The image in the mirror was eerily familiar: instead of what she should be seeing, before her she saw her reflection, fully painted and wearing Helena's gear. No. Not her reflection...Michelle found her voice again. "What do you want?"
The reflection moved independently of Michelle, rocking back into a kneeling position and steepling her fingers. Helena grinned back at Michelle, flashing a quick wave at her. "What do I want? Not much, really. A pony. Enlightenment. Oh...and we need to talk." She smiled broadly, tilting her head to the side as Michelle fell back, hand reaching up to her mouth in shock...
Our scene opens on Helena sitting atop a marble sarcophagus in the middle of a graveyard, mist hanging in the air as the dreary day seems to settle over things like a shroud. Gone is the mourner's dress, gone is all the extravagant ornamentation. Indeed, in just her patient's gown and facepaint, Helena seems oddly bare. Her voice echoes in the emptiness of the graveyard, fading into the mist with every sentence.
"Sometimes I forget. Sometimes, I forget who I am. I let all those other voices tell me what to do, and...it hurts me. And not in a good way. They've been getting louder lately. And sometimes, I just...want to...shut them up!"
As if to punctuate the statement, Helena hammers the side of her head with a closed fist. Her head rocks, but she shakes herself clear of the cobwebs again, looking up and into the camera.
"But I'm stronger than they are. They can complain and whine about me all they like. But they're not who's important. I am. And as long as I learn...as long as I listen to the one voice that matters, she will never guide me awry. Of course...that doesn't mean I can't listen to anyone else, right?"
Helena chuckles, slipping off the tomb. She wriggles her bare feet in the grass, smiling and closing her eyes as she enjoys herself. She begins walking through the graveyard, eyes still closed, weaving among the tombstones with an unconscious ease.
"I want to listen to the voices that tell me to trust you, Pandora. I do. I tried. But then there are the other ones...the ones that remind me that you were all too happy to take advantage of my misfortune. I learned from that. Do you know what I learned? It's a lesson I've been taught so many times: people will always seize the moment for themselves, no matter the cost. I don't know why I believe differently still. Maybe it's because I'm a good person?"
Helena pauses, opening her eyes, and snorts before bursting into a paroxysm of laughter. She holds her stomach, leaning up against a tombstone, as her delighted peals of laughter cut through the mist and fog. After a few seconds, Helena manages to straighten up again.
"No...that's not it. I'm not a good person. I've never been a good person. That's what everyone's always told me. And...I think you're realizing that you're not a good person either, Pan. Can I call you Pan? You call me Hel, I think it's only fair. You're not a good person. You're a free person. The clue was right there in your name. Freeman. You don't care about good and evil. You just care about what you want. What you feel. And...that's not a bad thing."
Helena shakes her head, walking forward with a serene smile on her face as she casually vaults over another headstone.
"It's good. You need this. So did I. Stop worrying about what everyone thinks. Just...do what feels right. Don't obsess over the Shieldmaiden. I fell into that trap, and...well, you saw the me that you got. It wasn't me. It was a shell of me. And really, it wasn't fair to you. So how about this week I make it up to you, Pan?"
She tilts her head, smiling brightly into the camera, and reaches down, scooping a bunch of roses off of the nearest grave as she walks along, almost seeming to skip. She comes to a halt, though, and pauses, sinking to one knee before looking up into the camera.
"Pandora Eris Freeman, I promise you from the bottom of my heart, deep in the pit where it lies, that I will not allow anything to come between us and a perfect night. You will get me. The real me. All of my sorrow, all of my hurt, all of my rage, unfiltered and pure. Because you deserve it. And you? Listen to the voice. The one that tells you to cut loose and never look back. Trust me...you'll be so much happier with yourself when you do."
Helena reaches another sarcophagus, this one with a life-size statue of a rearing horse upon it. She hops up, grabbing the horse's neck, and swings up into the saddle, resting comfortably on its back. Helena pulls a rose from the bunch with her teeth, grinning as the thorns prod her mouth, and pulls it out with her other hand, letting the others drop to the ground below. She offers it to the camera with a mischievous grin.
"So, I suppose the only thing left to do is say...may I have this dance? I sure hope so. I haven't danced with anyone quite like you in a long time. I just hope you're as good as I think you will be. We both could use a good dance. I'll see you soon. And may the fittest survive."
Helena blows a kiss to the camera, giggling, and grabs the statue's reins, striking a pose as the sun briefly filters through the mist, haloing her on the horse as we fade to white.
Well howdy there pardner.