It never got less strange, showing anyone just a bare face

[millay]

Who: Maeve and YOU
What: Contemplation, a minor injury, stuff
When: Post camping June times
Where: Topy, the deck, wherever
Warnings: Injury, Westworld as a whole, will update as needed



I. Topy | OPEN

Maeve's decided to celebrate - rather tamely, but still a celebration - her return from the ship with a drink and some crafts. She's gotten quite a few art supplies from the craft place at camp. She wasn't sure what crafting supplies existed on the ship outside of potentially paper. So now she didn't have to worry.

She knew, somewhat, that the Captain knew a lot about them, but now she's seen it first hand. It wasn't a lot, but she gets the feeling he was just throwing a touch in to show her that he did know. She's uncomfortable with the power held over her. So she's sipping at her whiskey, trying to enjoy the fact that she is not dead while also trying to figure out how to address the truth of home.

But tonight she's focusing on something a little less troubling and trying to have fun with it. Even if her art is, well, quite unfortunate.

She's working hard to try to sketch a picture of Hector's hat. A little something of his she could hang up or at least keep in her room. She looks up as someone enters. "Care to join me? I figure we're all due for a drink and some art." Even if they did just do a week's worth of arts and crafts already.

II. Deck | OPEN

Maeve wants some sunlight without the blinding sun of the pools. So she's taken to the deck. She walks for a little while before pausing in a spot of sunlight. She feels much like a cat, just taking it in, hands on the railings.

She's quietly humming a song from the Mariposa. She doesn't quite know the name, but she remembers the tune of it and it reminds her of a time before everything seemed to go sideways. She misses not knowing in a way that she can't quite explain, but that doesn't mean she'd go back to being an unknowing puppet. It's just easier to not know. Ignorance really is bliss.

III. Wildcard - If you have another idea, hit me up or surprise me. You can really just go for it. She's going to be out and about all over. You can find her in Tauva overthinking or in the hottub or the pool with fruity drinks. You can message me on discord at kingdonkey#6187 if you have something particular you wanna run with.

Comments

[millay]

"That they do," she says with a hint of sadness in her voice, a sad but fond smile forming. "He would have sacrificed everything for me. Had once." But they could come back to life and she wasn't the type to let someone die for nothing. She is, in her own way, a woman of action. For the right cause. For the right people. For more than she's probably ever admitted to.

"Hector," she replies. "Hector Escaton." She nods at his second question. "We were...wrapped up in each other's storyline. Once we were aware of ourselves, our love didn't end, which...they didn't expect." Apparently they weren't supposed to fall in love. Not truly. "He played an Outlaw. Stole an empty safe from the Mariposa so many times, I wonder how he never realized it was empty, but that is part of the game, I suppose." She frowns for a moment, her mind bringing forth the look in his eyes as he died. For good this time. "Anyway. I feel I've likely traumatized you enough with my stories."

[latersgators]

"I think that's love," Steven points out quietly with a small smile, giving Maeve a little shrug. "I'd steal an empty safe everyday if it meant I could spend five minutes being with you." If he was her loverboy, of course, which he isn't. Sounds like something dumb Marc would do too, honestly. It's romantic in that bizarre, peculiar way men who communicate in a series of noncommittal grunts do romantic things. Steven would've just send a text like, 'hey, how's it going, I think you're pretty cool, you wanna hang out?' and save on all the damages.

But that's probably why Steven is still single. He's not scratching enough hardwood floors with empty safes.

"I'm always happy to hear more. I like stories. If you'd ever like to tell me another one sometime, I'm in room 135. I'll listen, about Hector or anyone else you want to talk about," he offers.

[millay]

Maeve smiles at him a little fondly. He is a sweet, innocent thing. "That is kind of you to say. I think he did it because they programmed him to, but when we were awake, he still sacrificed himself for me..." She sighs.

"I will try to think of the less murderous stories. Unless you like murder stories." She reaches over to touch his arm. "The same goes for you, you know. If you want to talk rocks or anything else, I'll be in 104."

[latersgators]

"Is he a-- 'Host'? You can't. Bring him back?" Steven ventures softly. Maybe he won't come back the same? He's not sure how it works. He doesn't want to cheapen the sacrifice, but. Maybe there's a universe out there where love really triumphs everything. You never know.

Steven's rueful little smile widens as she touches his arm. He chews on his lip and nods. "I'm alright with murder stories." Although he probably also likes stories that are sweet and innocent. "I'll come by. I promise." Maybe he'll even bring Marc, although. Marc's slightly less sweet and innocent. But if she likes men of action then she should be fine with Marc, surely.

[millay]

"He is," she says. "But a version of Dolores destroyed his pearl. I'm afraid there is no coming back from that." At least...not one that she knows. It's possible that there may be a way, but she doesn't know it. She wonders if Delos does. She's not sure she trusts them either way, but she knows she might give just about anything to have him back. Except her freedom.

"All right, darling. I'll make sure I have a selection for you, then. I can tell you about Shogunworld."

[latersgators]

"His 'pearl'?" Steven repeats back. "Is that like-- his soul? Good heavens, that's awful..." he laments. He has no idea who Dolores is, but she sounds mean. He's about to comment as much, but 'Shogunworld' distracts him. It sounds a bit like the theme park she's talking about. You know if she hummed Paint It Black at him sometime he could just end up giving her all the lyrics to Ramin Djawadi's entire discography.

"Love to hear about it," he affirms with a nod and a tight-lipped smile. "I could tell you more about Egypt. Although I wasn't there very long. Maybe London, if you're interested. Although it's a wee bit boring, I guess." At least the offer to trade stories is there, even if she's got all sorts of exciting ones and he... doesn't.

[millay]

"It is like...the mind. But it has all the knowledge of what occurred before." She considers it for a moment. "So I suppose, in a way, it is a soul. You cannot recreate it, I don't think." She understands that Delores wouldn't want people to be able to rise up together against her, but the loss of Hector felt so great. Perhaps, in another life, she'll find a way to stop it.

"Akane and Musashi are worth the story." She grins at that. "I'd love to hear about both. I have so little real memories of England, but that is...the fault of the writers, I believe. Not interesting enough for a properly fleshed out situation." She waves it off. "But I'm sure it will be interesting to know what has changed."

[latersgators]

"'Never was there a time when I did not exist, nor you, nor all these kings, nor in the future shall any of us cease to be,'" Steven murmurs softly. He could have rambled on about a soul isn't a thing that gets created or destroyed, or at least that's what they tell good little Jewish boys, but he goes the Bhagavad Gita route instead. That way he hopes those words bring her some comfort without coming across too preachy.

"Pearl or no pearl, we're all connected. And we'll all endure. I'm sure of it." Maybe she won't see Hector again, the way he was, the way she remembered him. Maybe Hector is all just-- code. She's so much more to Steven than just code though. He'd like to think there's a happily ever after, even for code.

"It's England. As rubbish as it's always been. Somehow feels a bit-- worse than usual, these days. But I'll tell you everything you'd like to know," he promises.

[millay]

She's not sure it necessarily helps, but she supposes that all any of them do is exist in the memories of others. If she remembers him, he still exists. But it's hard to remember people you might never see again.

"Of course, darling." Because she's not sure what else to say. She recognizes it for what it is all the same: someone trying to make her feel better about things that have already happened.

"Well, At least I don't have to feel like I missed anything." Her tone is amused. "I'll think of something, I'm sure." She hopes she didn't miss it the way she did Paris. "I'll see you soon." She needs time to process her feelings.