Anya Lehnsherr | Earth 97400 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fridgetothefire) wrote2014-08-27 11:27 pm
fridgetothefire) wrote2014-08-27 11:27 pm
051 ☣ the Victorious Return
[Public, Video, forward-dated slightly to after the flood]
[Anya's hair is braided, a bit awkwardly given that she was unable to hold her own head up at the time, and a bit mussed, although she's changed into an unwrinkled shirt.]
It seems like there haven't been any major disasters while I was unconscious.
Were the comms all broken? Did I miss the signs or something?
[She sounds bemused, half-joking, half not at all. Seriously, is the admiral punking her, did the boat actually not crash.]
[General friends filter; if you think you're on it, etc.]
I'll need to catch up on the minor disasters, though. Let me know how you're doing, all of you.
[Private to Morgana]
You want to come over for tea? It looks like maybe you've got a lot on your mind.
[Which is Anya-speak for yes, I reviewed all your public glitch conversations. There's something even warmer than usual in her voice, in her eyes, approval, as well as affection. She said she had hope. She's come so far.]
[Private to Harvey]
How'd you like Death Knighthood?
[Private to Dean]
Still think it's some new hell?
[Mild, faded-soft but not weary any more. There's no challenge in it at all. It's a checking-in, pretending to be casual rather than perennially concerned, but it's not pretending that it's not pretending. The answer she expects is yes, in some fashion or another, as though Dean's bleakness is one of those comforting constants she can rely upon no matter how long she was out, a well-worn groove, like asking if the Arthas still wears skulls.]
[Private to Stephen]
Thank you.
[Private to Stiles]
So you and Dean.
[Spam for Connor]
[She found his post right after his and Cass's pairing, and she takes him at his word, knocking at his door with a foil-covered tray of meringues as - not a peace offering, but a gesture of good faith.]
[Private to Cass]
[In her window seat, with her guitar in her lap]
I was wondering if you wanted to learn some more chords.
[Spam for Ben]
[She wakes up with the sort of drowsiness that makes her think of broken fevers, of exhaustion bled away, a lingering quietude and a faint surprise at her own awareness, small but clear like a mountain spring. She feels warm and safe but odd, wonders why she's laid out on her back when she usually wakes curled on one side. She blinks her eyes open, sees Ben there.]
Did I...did something happen?
[She's not tolling, she doesn't feel hurt or drugged or even hungover. But she also doesn't know why he's keeping vigil, or what time it is, and usually she wakes sharp and early.]
[Anya's hair is braided, a bit awkwardly given that she was unable to hold her own head up at the time, and a bit mussed, although she's changed into an unwrinkled shirt.]
It seems like there haven't been any major disasters while I was unconscious.
Were the comms all broken? Did I miss the signs or something?
[She sounds bemused, half-joking, half not at all. Seriously, is the admiral punking her, did the boat actually not crash.]
[General friends filter; if you think you're on it, etc.]
I'll need to catch up on the minor disasters, though. Let me know how you're doing, all of you.
[Private to Morgana]
You want to come over for tea? It looks like maybe you've got a lot on your mind.
[Which is Anya-speak for yes, I reviewed all your public glitch conversations. There's something even warmer than usual in her voice, in her eyes, approval, as well as affection. She said she had hope. She's come so far.]
[Private to Harvey]
How'd you like Death Knighthood?
[Private to Dean]
Still think it's some new hell?
[Mild, faded-soft but not weary any more. There's no challenge in it at all. It's a checking-in, pretending to be casual rather than perennially concerned, but it's not pretending that it's not pretending. The answer she expects is yes, in some fashion or another, as though Dean's bleakness is one of those comforting constants she can rely upon no matter how long she was out, a well-worn groove, like asking if the Arthas still wears skulls.]
[Private to Stephen]
Thank you.
[Private to Stiles]
So you and Dean.
[Spam for Connor]
[She found his post right after his and Cass's pairing, and she takes him at his word, knocking at his door with a foil-covered tray of meringues as - not a peace offering, but a gesture of good faith.]
[Private to Cass]
[In her window seat, with her guitar in her lap]
I was wondering if you wanted to learn some more chords.
[Spam for Ben]
[She wakes up with the sort of drowsiness that makes her think of broken fevers, of exhaustion bled away, a lingering quietude and a faint surprise at her own awareness, small but clear like a mountain spring. She feels warm and safe but odd, wonders why she's laid out on her back when she usually wakes curled on one side. She blinks her eyes open, sees Ben there.]
Did I...did something happen?
[She's not tolling, she doesn't feel hurt or drugged or even hungover. But she also doesn't know why he's keeping vigil, or what time it is, and usually she wakes sharp and early.]
private
[ Which, Stephen personally thinks he'd've been a better choice, the way Peter's been. ]
Is he your boyfriend?
private
It's - it's not complicated, but that doesn't mean I have words for it, you know?
I've never had a boyfriend. I don't know what counts. I love him and I'd do anything for him, but he's a former child soldier who was grown in a lab and doesn't - touch. I kissed his cheek once and he didn't understand it.
He's not a child, there's just - a disconnect, for him, with a lot of things that come naturally to most people. And that's not one of the places I want to push him. I'm not pining. It's - it works. Whatever we are.
Which is not boyfriend.
[Congratulations, Stephen, as the first person not to take 'Ben and Anya are an adorable and inevitable matched set' for granted, you get all the catbag things she has been trying to figure out about them for the last year.]
private
Might not be pining, but don't you want more than that?
private
[She tilts her head a little, smile slanted and blunt and honest.]
But I don't feel like I have to get everything I want from him.
private
[ And it's not really his business. ]
private
[Yeah, she read it. She sounds - curious, more than anything, certainly not angry and not even especially perplexed. She sort of knows, she's smart and perceptive. And she sort of doesn't have the paradigm, at least not in reference to herself, to think it.]
private
private
private
private
It's okay.