Lauri-Ell (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kree_soldieress) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
revivalproject2022-05-09 12:38 am
kree_soldieress) wrote in revivalproject2022-05-09 12:38 am
[Open] Calibrating To Earth Life
WHO: Lauri-Ell, Open
WHERE: Calibrations Room
WHAT: Calibrations Room
WHEN: Calibrations
WARNINGS: CW: Grief about a mother Lauri never knew
Calibrations Waiting Room
Here
Calibrations
The space is clearly an apartment of some sort. Comfortable and comfortably appointed. Some of the walls are bare bricks, or plastered walls painted in a similar color. One portion is clearly set up as a living room, with a green love seat oriented toward a flat screen television, and with a coffee table. On that table was a pile of pizza boxes, cans of sosa, bags of chips, and a remote control. It's perfectly set up for some television binging. Wonder what's on the tube.
Lauri-Ell herself is stretched out on one side of this loveseat, slouching and with one leg draped over the arm of the loveseat, an orange tabby cat sitting in her lap and purring as she pets it. Her attention is fully on the screen, as if she expects something of it, but she hasn't reached to turn it on.
Nearby is a bookshelf, atop which are two framed pictures. One displays a blonde woman who looks a bit like Lauri-Ell, smiling radiantly in the arms of a black man. Next to that is a photo of a younger version of the same blond woman, held in the arms of an older woman. There again is the familial resemblance, and there is more to Lauri-Ell and the older woman than there is to the blonde girl, especially since Lauri-Ell clearly has the woman's hair.
The room transitions into a kitchenette with only a bit of wall to mime at separation. There's no door, just an open space that is too wide for a door, too narrow for 'open plan' living. Near the far window, looking out on the streets of New York, is a kitchen table with a few chairs. Leaning against it rests Lauri-Ell's Hammer, begging for attention. Could it possibly be safely touched in this space, even if it can't in real life?
Finally the kitchen has pantries one can look in, which are mostly empty, and a fridge covered in photos. The place is rather empty, like the apartment exists for someone to live in, but that person isn't around as much as they could be. Perhaps that's exactly what it's like. But given nothing in here is of a scale suitable for Lauri-Ell, it's no doubt that this place isn't properly hers.
WHERE: Calibrations Room
WHAT: Calibrations Room
WHEN: Calibrations
WARNINGS: CW: Grief about a mother Lauri never knew
Calibrations Waiting Room
Here
Calibrations
The space is clearly an apartment of some sort. Comfortable and comfortably appointed. Some of the walls are bare bricks, or plastered walls painted in a similar color. One portion is clearly set up as a living room, with a green love seat oriented toward a flat screen television, and with a coffee table. On that table was a pile of pizza boxes, cans of sosa, bags of chips, and a remote control. It's perfectly set up for some television binging. Wonder what's on the tube.
Lauri-Ell herself is stretched out on one side of this loveseat, slouching and with one leg draped over the arm of the loveseat, an orange tabby cat sitting in her lap and purring as she pets it. Her attention is fully on the screen, as if she expects something of it, but she hasn't reached to turn it on.
Nearby is a bookshelf, atop which are two framed pictures. One displays a blonde woman who looks a bit like Lauri-Ell, smiling radiantly in the arms of a black man. Next to that is a photo of a younger version of the same blond woman, held in the arms of an older woman. There again is the familial resemblance, and there is more to Lauri-Ell and the older woman than there is to the blonde girl, especially since Lauri-Ell clearly has the woman's hair.
The room transitions into a kitchenette with only a bit of wall to mime at separation. There's no door, just an open space that is too wide for a door, too narrow for 'open plan' living. Near the far window, looking out on the streets of New York, is a kitchen table with a few chairs. Leaning against it rests Lauri-Ell's Hammer, begging for attention. Could it possibly be safely touched in this space, even if it can't in real life?
Finally the kitchen has pantries one can look in, which are mostly empty, and a fridge covered in photos. The place is rather empty, like the apartment exists for someone to live in, but that person isn't around as much as they could be. Perhaps that's exactly what it's like. But given nothing in here is of a scale suitable for Lauri-Ell, it's no doubt that this place isn't properly hers.
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She rises to her feet. "Do you not like those who are not human? Or do you just judge me for I have less experience? I do not understand you. I remember the first time I saw you. You were a hero, you helped save your world and all worlds from the schedules of the dowager Empress. You are a hero. Are heroes not supposed to be kind?"
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"What would that change?" he challenged instead, eyebrows raised before clicking his tongue with a shrug. "As long as they do their job, makes no difference if they say 'you're welcome'." She hadn't exactly put him in a place where he could claim to know much about kindness.
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It doesn't make sense to her at all. It's so frustrating.
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"It would be better for your frown lines if you stopped trying. You're not going to get anything out of it, so it's not a worthwhile expense," he advised. She could hate him for not living up to her expectations, Tony had plenty of experience handling that one. She didn't have to like him for Tony to get her home, back to the real heroes.
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Why is he so difficult?
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Waving the foundation he had laid, he continued, "You keep doing that--everything is right or wrong. I said it wasn't worth it. I'm not worth this headache you're working up."
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"And yet you keep giving it to me. This is a headache you inflict," she counters, shaking her head.
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"I'm going to figure it out," he declared. "I'm not trying to keep you here. I am--I am trying." That was worse to admit, he realized. It was probably less humiliating for him if he wasn't trying so hard.
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She sighs and the door manifests. There is no answers here, no acceptance. Just the strange form of pain and frustration that it seemed only Tony could inflict on her.
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He made for the door then, feeling like he was slinking away with his tail between his legs and doing his best to appear otherwise, pushing his shoulders back and his restless hand into his pocket.
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"You are the one who doesn't seem to try," she answered as a parting comment while he left. And there seemed to be no way to make him.