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Post by MEGAN ALICE BUTLER on Jul 7, 2012 20:53:21 GMT -5
Meg pushed a strand of hair back from her face and tilted her head. This visit to the Metropolitan was proving to actually be fruitful, for once. She had found a painting that she knew her father had loved while he was still alive.
The painting that she was observing was a Caravaggio, a piece known as "The Musicians". Art reminded her of the few memories she had left of her father, especially this piece. Her father had been an avid fan of the artist, and "The Musicians" was his favorite. A bit of a smile slid onto her face. Caravaggio was, indeed, a master of his work. In many paintings that used the color black, it just took up the canvas and made the work claustrophobic, but the painting in front of her showed no signs of this. The black just added definition and detail to the painting. It didn't take over, it was just there. The image of the musicians in their classical wear (togas, she assumed, judging from the white cloth half-draped over the bodies) sent a little jagged pain through her heart. No matter how long it had been, no matter how much training the CIA had put her through, Meg still missed her parents.
She took in a breath and turned away from the painting, heels clicking against the floor. It sent a jolt of panic through her, and dark eyes scanned her surrounding quickly before Meg remembered that she had dressed up. The heels were making the noise, it wasn't anything potentially violent. Although, in retrospect, heels could be quite dangerous, she thought to herself wryly.
There was a reason why Meg didn't wear high-heeled shoes too often, there were a multitude of reasons. The first few had to do with practicality, that even if they looked pretty, heels broke easily and one couldn't run in them, and the next had to do with the fact that Meg always managed to stumble while wearing them. She would really prefer to not break her neck falling down stairs and die like that.
Her skirt swishing around her knees, Meg walked down a flight of stairs and exited out into the medieval wing. A small smile broke out onto her face again; she loved the banners and suits of armor in the wing. It reminded her of one of her favorite Shakespeare plays, "Henry V". She noticed a blonde girl, not more than fifteen, standing a few feet away. That definitely intrigued Meg, as not most kids that she knew would actively spend time in a museum. The way she was standing, as well, quiet and unobtrusive, sent alarm bells up her spine. She brushed off the thoughts, choosing to surreptitiously look at the girl.
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words; 463
muse; This was sort of word vomit, sorry. : D
outfit; simple black dress and heels
credits; zie @ CAUTION!
lyrics by Marianas Trench!
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Post by SUNSHINE COLE IRIS on Jul 7, 2012 21:41:40 GMT -5
She snorted faintly to herself, under her breath, but the sound echoed a bit in the large room. She wasn't the type of kid who believed in fairies. She hadn't even believed in the tooth fairy when she was younger. No, this was her life and she was stuck with it. Whatever made her so different from her own kin, whether it was a quirk in her DNA or some other defect in her creation, it made no matter. Her parents were long gone now. They didn't count for anything anymore.
Cole wasn't at all sure why she was still here at the museum. She knew why she'd come here -- following someone without being noticed as part of her training. But she'd looked away for a moment and lost track of them in the Near Eastern wing. A school group had been passing by. It wasn't her fault. A small boy had pulled a girl's pigtail and she'd shrieked. Anyone would have looked. It wasn't her fault. But she supposed she was still here because she wasn't yet ready to go back and tell them she'd managed to screw up already.
She hadn't been with Fordham long. She still felt lost more often than not. She wasn't in a rush to go back, even quite besides not wanting to report in. At least here in the museum, she felt free, if only temporarily. It wasn't fair, being a kid, how your life never belonged to you. She was going to enjoy this bit of breathing room before she went back and the adults started telling her what to do again. Where to go. Who to be.
Without a real destination in mind, Cole had wandered the museum, and her feet had brought her here to the medieval wing. She liked the suits of armour. They looked safe. Strong. The men who had worn them must have felt like no one could ever hurt them. And then they'd gone out and beaten each other with sticks and swords. The thought made Cole snort quietly to herself again.
Shaking her head slightly to dismiss the thoughts, she turned away from the encased display, and then tensed up as she caught a familiar sight. The man that she'd lost... Fate must have been playing a hand, since she'd found him again without even trying. She went still and quiet, mentally willing herself to blend in with the background, and watched as he moved through the wing.
She didn't stare at him directly but kept track of him in her peripheral vision, trying to use all her senses to feel where he was in the room without needing to look right at him. As he moved down a little ways, she drifted to the next display and bowed her head over the information displayed in front of it, letting her white-blonde hair curtain off her face so that she could take another, better look at him.
It was then she noticed the hair on the back of her own neck standing up, giving her the unmistakable sensation of being watched herself. Her head snapped up, smoothly but quickly, and her cool blue eyes scanned the area, trying to figure out who was paying attention to her instead of the exhibit. |
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Post by MEGAN ALICE BUTLER on Jul 8, 2012 16:17:49 GMT -5
The danger bells in the back of Meg's mind intensified, but she brushed them off irritatedly. She doubted that she was being targeted, and even then, a busy museum would hardly be the best place to start a fight. Too many witnesses, too many cameras, it would be sloppy and Meg was actually a little offended by the idea. She had been in the CIA as a teenage spy for a little over ten years, and if people were only choosing to attack her now, after all of the intensive training and conditioning before she was unceremoniously dropped out of the agency, it meant that something else was up. Again, the chances of this being an issue were fairly low, so Meg wouldn't lose too much time thinking about it. The dark-haired woman still made sure to move herself into a nearby crowd of noisy tourists, a force of habit, and took her eyes off of the blonde girl temporarily.
The way the teenager's head snapped up milliseconds after Meg looked at her a bit too long didn't escape her. It was really only something that she would notice because of her former affiliations to the CIA. Judging from this, the girl probably wasn't just a simple civilian. Meg really didn't have anything against her, though, nothing personal. Her dislike (she'd go as far as hatred, but that sounded just a little bit too melodramatic for Meg's tastes) for her former position and the organization that allowed it to occur was broad and more based towards the administration.
Meg felt a sudden rush of what could only be described as bitter nostalgia for the figuratively simple days she had as an official spy. The life was glorified by all of the novels and movies, nothing really fit into place as easily as she would have liked, but the ten years spent as a spy, training and everything, were still memories she would enjoy to keep. She resisted the urge to smile a little, because who was she kidding? It was awful. She may have been a good spy, she might have done well in that life,but every second was awful. A flash of pity for the girl flashed over Meg before that was tamped down. Pity wasn't the best emotion to be feeling right now.
Heels clicking sharply (and adrenaline racing through her system before she reminded herself again that it was only her current footwear), Meg approached the girl. Eyes flashed quickly over her as a habit before she relaxed her stance and eased up on her footing, making the steps slower. The role she was playing today was civilian. No swearing, she thought to herself wryly.
"Enjoying the exhibit?" she asked, coming to a stop next to the blonde. "I hate the lines to get in, but this is one of my favorite parts." Meg tilted her head and looked at what the girl was looking at before Meg's staring caught her attention. She was being exceedingly careful to keep her tone courteous and just on the edge of nearly condescending, just like she remembered other adults doing to her when she was young. It had a chance of keeping her from being called out on her staring.
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words; 548
muse;
outfit; simple black dress and heels
credits; zie @ CAUTION!
lyrics by Marianas Trench!
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Post by SUNSHINE COLE IRIS on Jul 8, 2012 20:33:05 GMT -5
Cole wasn't looking for trouble. She seldom was. But trouble had a knack of finding her, and she supposed this new line of work was only going to make it that much more attentive. Still, today's training mission had been a simple one and she'd already come close to blowing it. ' Come on, Cole. Get it together,' she chided herself mentally as she resolved to keep her focus better this time. To let nothing dissuade her from this task. But then she'd had that feeling of being watched. Was this part of the test? No one had said this even was a test -- just training -- but Cole knew better. She'd only been with the organization a short time, but she'd already picked up on the fact that everything was a test, from the time she got up in the morning until she went to bed at night. Hell, they might even have some way to monitor her dreams, for all she knew, but she couldn't worry about that. What she could worry about, however, was not screwing this up. If it was a test, then she needed to pass. If it wasn't a test, then she needed to pass that much more. Realizing she'd already given away too much with her sharp snap of the head, she tried to fix her expression to something more casual as she turned on her heel, scanning the room, trying to look like she was just deciding what to look at next or trying to track down her parent or teacher. And then suddenly, there was a woman standing beside her. A grown up. Cole looked up at her without lifting her head, or even turning to face her fully, so that she was looking at her on an upwards angle, her expression still neutral but now tinged with suspicion. She was always suspicious of adults, but now more than ever. Was this who had been staring at her? Cole was silent for a long moment as she tried to puzzle that out. She didn't look familiar, but that didn't mean much. Even as the woman spoke to her, Cole didn't rush to respond. it was a trick she'd learned way back as a foster kid, keeping her mouth shut until she was sure of the situation, sure of what she wanted to say, and sure it wasn't likely to end her up in more trouble. The woman's words seemed benign enough, but Cole had no idea what she could have done to attract her interest, if she was just a simple tourist. " I suppose," she finally replied, figuring silence was more of a red flag than speaking at this point. But she didn't want to sound too enthusiastic about it either. " It's better than being in class." That was true, she imagined. If she was just another of those kids on another field trip, she'd much rather be in the museum than stuck behind a desk. But her old schools weren't really the kind to do expensive field trips like this. Still, the woman didn't have to know that. " So, which part do you like best?" she asked. She didn't really care, but it gave her an excuse to look around the room again, making sure her target was still in sight. Luckily for her, he seemed to be engrossed in chatting up some young college coed, so she figured she had a little time to deal with this new situation. Was this woman just nosey or was there more to it? |
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Post by MEGAN ALICE BUTLER on Jul 10, 2012 14:01:29 GMT -5
The girl looked up at Meg, but didn't entirely make eye contact. and wasn't facing her like she remembered most children doing (even brooding teenagers, she thought to herself with just a hint of a smile). In terms of innocent tourist, she wasn't exactly the model. Just a little bit too cautious, just a little bit too schooled in keeping her face together. However, Meg really didn't want to cause too much trouble. This day was meant as a day off, and even if she saw a kid from the CIA, as long as nothing that looked too extreme was up, she wasn't going to say anything.
Civilian, the dark-haired woman reminded herself. Civilians didn't think too much about the motives of teenagers in museums. They just saw, maybe had a stray thought, and they worried. Meg would pretend to worry about the girl's lack of guardianship. Not pretend, as much as act, as an adult accompanying the girl would mean a little more to Meg than to anything else.
The blonde girl took a second to answer her, and Meg nodded, shifting her balance to her other foot. Inclining her head, she kept her tone light. "I see. Boring class trip, hmm?" The ex-spy made a little face, remembering a trip of her own back in Ireland. Her parents had taken her to a small exhibit, and she just remembered the boredom that had accompanied such a trip. Only when she was older and trying to remember her parents and her heritage was when museums began to show any sort of appeal. As the Caravaggio proved, the history and art in them ran in her blood, linked to all sorts of memories that she wouldn't have remembered due to the CIA.
Meg ignored the way the girl's eyes were flicking around the room. It wasn't her place, she didn't have to notice if she didn't pay attention. The Irishwoman didn't need a CIA spy (however young she may be, she was still a danger) suspicious of her. Well, you already screwed that up because you walked over. Taking a second to answer the question, Meg shrugged. She knew which exhibits she liked, but she didn't want to go into way too much detail. It was hard enough to stay in character without adding millions of details she had to remember.
"Personally, I like this exhibit, and the Renaissance room. The armor looks like it would have been a pain to walk around in, yeah?" she started for a second, as if remembering something, a sheepish laugh coming out of her mouth. "I'm sorry, this is creepy, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Meg." The next action went against all of her training, and she was completely aware of this as she extended a hand to the girl, keeping her face placid. Strangers shake each other's hands all the time, she berated herself internally. No need to go against social custom, no matter how freaking stupid it is.[/i[
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words; 513
muse; - - -
outfit; simple black dress and heels
credits; zie @ CAUTION!
lyrics by Marianas Trench!
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Post by SUNSHINE COLE IRIS on Jul 10, 2012 15:35:09 GMT -5
Even before she'd been tagged to become an agent, Cole had never exactly been a normal kid. She didn't trust adults and she'd been given plenty of good reasons not to over the years. Now, there was a whole other reason to be suspicious of other people's motives, and it was turning her even more cynical than she'd been before. Then again, in this life, maybe being a cynic would help her stay alive. Better than being naive. Still, she couldn't see any reason the woman would be out to get her. She wasn't even doing a real mission, just some training. And she liked to think she wasn't so bad at it as to draw the attention of perfect strangers. So it left her wondering if this was a test or if something else was afoot. Either way, she knew she needed to tread carefully here. " Yeah," she replied as to the boring class trip. " I think I'm supposed to be in the Near East or something." She couldn't be quite so sullen and silent as normal, not if she wanted to pull off being a normal kid on a normal class trip. So she confided this little detail as though that somehow made her naughty and rebellious, showing off her irreverence for the rules. " Maybe," she muses, as she looked back to the suits of armour in front of her. It would have made walking difficult. " But at least you'd feel safe. I guess." She shrugged, realizing only after she'd said it that most kids probably didn't worry constantly about needing literal armour to protect them from the outside world. " Bet you'd be hot though." She looked down at the hand offered to her, almost like this was some foreign gesture. It wasn't really, but one that she tied to a different life. Social workers and new foster parents were always trying to shake hands with her, to show they were friendly or would treat her like an adult. It was always a lie though, in her opinion. But this particular offer didn't seem to be a threat, so after just a brief pause, she reached out to take it with her own tiny hand, her shake surprisingly firm, considering. " Cole," she offered, drawing her hand back after a perfunctory shake, not wanting to draw out the gesture. |
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Post by MEGAN ALICE BUTLER on Jul 10, 2012 16:15:54 GMT -5
"Will your teacher be freaked out?" she asked like a typical adult when the girl told her that she had left her school group. It seemed to her that civilians were always worrying about the youth of their country. Meg could honestly care less, call her heartless or not.
Her idea was that a little bit of fear could teach a kid a lot, but if she saw someone in pain, she would help them out a bit. No sense in leaving innocents in pain. Meg put on her best "I am concerned for you" face (a decent representation. It made her feel better than smiling), quirking her mouth just a little bit and widening her eyes. If the girl was CIA, she could definitely take care of herself, but Meg figured that most adults would be concerned for a minor wandering around by herself.
Shaking Cole's hand, Meg cursed whoever had the idea that shaking hands was a good one. It involved bodily contact with strangers, and Meg knew more than most about the many ways that handshakes could turn into body throws. She doubted that the girl could throw her, but still, it wasn't good to assume things about people and their abilities. She had met a man who looked about as skinny as a pole, with next to no visible muscle, but he was insanely strong. She supposed that the point of handshakes were to show that one was unarmed and meant no harm, but Meg's cynical view of the world did not agree with that one bit. Better to be prepared than to assume that the other person meant you no harm.
The girl- Cole, she reminded herself- had a firm grip. Meg kept hers just a little loose, smiling placidly. The loose smile felt unnatural on her face, and she was sure that if any of her various acquaintances and fellow spies saw her, they would start laughing at the expression on her normal poker face. Civilian. Civvie civvie civve, she chanted in her head, pushing down the disgust at the relaxed role. The woman nodded in agreement in response at Cole's tone about her class. "That never was interesting for me." she said, shrugging. It was the truth. Class trips, even when she was young, always managed to focus on things that Meg hated.
"Is this your favorite exhibit, then, Cole?" Meg questioned, actual curiosity coloring her voice. It was interesting, to see what she would respond. This exhibit was definitely an awesome one, if one was an adult or a child.
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words; 436
muse; This was sort of word vomit, sorry. : D
outfit; simple black dress and heels
credits; zie @ CAUTION!
lyrics by Marianas Trench!
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Post by SUNSHINE COLE IRIS on Jul 10, 2012 19:11:30 GMT -5
Cole couldn't help but smirk a little at the woman's anxious question. It was a slip of her cover, but then again, she would have reacted the same way if her school had ever been able to afford coming to a place like this and someone had shown concern for the chaperones when Cole wandered off. Still, she was trying not to act like quite so much of a brat, so she quickly dropped the smirk and shrugged again. " Not for awhile, at least," she replied. " As long as I'm back before the bus leaves." Her make-believe teacher wasn't that observant, she'd decided. And maybe she even had a friend in her class to cover for her. A friend. Yes, this truly was make believe. At any rate, even make believe Cole didn't have that much concern for her teacher, but then, she was a teenager. If her pretend teacher wasn't smart enough to keep up with her, then that was his own lookout. For some reason, the teacher in Cole's imagination was male, although she'd only ever had female teachers when she'd been in regular school. " I mean," she went on, looking back up at the woman out of the corner of her eye, her expression innocent but her eyes shrewd, " It's not like I can get into trouble in a museum, right?" Who would ever want to hurt an ordinary little girl like her? Truthfully, Cole knew there were many people out there who would hurt her if given a chance, and only some of that was because of her new line of work. But while she hadn't had much combat training yet, she knew how to look after herself. Biting, kicking, scratching... or even the knife she'd kept tucked away on her person since she was nine, she'd use whatever she needed to in order to get free. And once free, she was good at running and even better at hiding. Being small had at least some advantages. She didn't shy away from the handshake, but didn't see any reason to prolong it either. The idea of this woman using the leverage to body throw her hadn't really occurred, but she just didn't like being that close to people. And besides, handshakes were kind of lame. What was she supposed to do? Get all super into the gesture of trust? " There's a woman who's showing us around, and she just... never shuts up," Cole went on, confiding about these fictional people like the was buying into this conversation. It was strange, but she found it so much easier to be open with this fictional life of hers. Then again, maybe that wasn't so strange. She had nothing to lose by letting this young woman into a life that wasn't even real. She'd just give her nothing that might be used against the real Cole. " And she has the most annoying voice. Like she's asking questions with everything she says, you know?" Cole had known a woman like that once, though she'd been a counsellor of some sort, not a tour guide. Every sentence went up at the end, like she was asking Cole instead of telling her. Cole found herself very much wanting to punch her, so it felt somewhat satisfying to turn her into this terrible tour guide. She looked back again to the suits of armour, trying to think what this fictional Cole would like best at the museum. " I dunno," she said with a shrug, like she was just considering it. " I guess so. It's a lot more interesting than the paintings." At least these were real, not just pictures. |
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Post by MEGAN ALICE BUTLER on Jul 10, 2012 21:19:55 GMT -5
Meg couldn't help but roll her eyes a bit at the smirk. It was a reflex, almost a habit, ingrained from years of hanging around holier-than-thou people who found other people's perceived idiocy to be funny, and she wanted to kick herself (high heels and all) as soon as she felt her eyes moving. Sarcastic habits were not supposed to seep into the role she was playing. She was supposed to be a nice, mildly concerned civilian woman, nothing that came with an eyeroll or cursewords.
Managing to transform it into more of a facial twitch type thing- better if Cole thought she was odd rather than mocking her- the woman felt a little pang of familiarity in her chest. The blonde teenager sort of reminded Meg of herself nine or ten years previously. Young, talented, determined to succeed- Well, maybe not the last two. That was sort of subjective. Young, definitely, though, Meg thought. Young and already cynical. My accent was stronger, too.
"Well, okay," she said, a bit of reluctance slipping into her tone. Meg's character would feel bad for leaving Cole unattended. She had forgotten how much fun it was (well, figurative fun) to create someone to impersonate. It had been a long time since she had done any legitimate work using her training, and she was easing back into it fairly well.
Another quick burst of pity came again for Cole, and then she was stopping any sentimental thoughts. She couldn't sympathize with the teenager. It would just lead to grief later. Meg wondered at why it was so easy to feel bad, and chalked it up to hormones. Hormones, or something. I don't know. It was a bad excuse, and Meg knew it, but chose not to dwell on the emotional side of things. She smiled at Cole. "Of course not, dear. There's security, too."
...or not. Meg's faith in the security system was limited. Yeah, they had a few big bulky guys, some of them armed, but all in all, Cole could take them out just as easily as Meg could. There were too many operations that Meg had been on where security was useless, sometimes even detrimental to the objective, and it had ruined the apparent safety of a lot of public places for her. Banks, however, had security you needed to worry about. She felt a rush of amusement rush over her at the remembrance of a few past missions.
And I just called Cole "dear". That was in character, but uncalled for. Meg winced a little. Pet names for strange teenage girls with CIA roots never boded well. In general, pet names didn't bode well. They sugarcoated a harsher world. Nobody is happy but the winners, the end, so if you want happiness, pick your side carefully. That was Meg's philosophy, one of many helpful tidbits she'd compiled over the years.
"Ach, those are the worst guides. Was she reading from a paper?" Meg asked, sighing her sympathies. The people who were constantly questioning with their voices were annoying, she agreed wholeheartedly. She had had to conduct a few tours, and it was apparently encouraged to "keep the attention of the group". "Almost as bad as the people who monotone it." Meg loved a good deadpan and monotone, but there were times when a bit of enthusiasm or life was necessary to get the point across. Museum tours were one of them.
"Do you have a favorite set of armor?" she prompted, smiling lightly. "There's one with spikes up there that's my favorite." Meg gestured to the suit with a thumb. She had to admit, it was pretty badass, and she would wear it if it didn't weigh much and was bulletproof.
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words; 641
muse; - - -
outfit; simple black dress and heels
credits; zie @ CAUTION!
lyrics by Marianas Trench!
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Post by SUNSHINE COLE IRIS on Jul 10, 2012 23:25:18 GMT -5
Cole didn't entirely catch the eye-roll, and she was fooled, sort of, into believe the odd facial twitch instead. Her one eyebrow arched slightly, she gave the woman a long look, wondering if she was a little unstable or something. Perhaps that would explain the staring from earlier; Cole had no definitive proof that the starer had been Meg, nor even that someone had been staring at her, but she remained fairly convinced of that idea. Her instincts weren't usually too far off the mark, especially when she was being all extra-paranoid. Young and cynical. That summed her up well. Cole would have probably laughed wryly to hear herself described thus. In a way though, the cynicism helped Meg's case in this instance, since Cole was pretty ready to dismiss her as a weirdo. Which was probably better than expecting she was up to more nefarious things. So Cole remained wary and kept herself distanced emotionally from the situation, ready to take flight like a bird should there be the slightest rustle from the bushes. But she didn't allow her suspicions to eat into her. Not too much, anyway. Cole again seemed sort of amused at the plight of her poor imaginary teacher, and even more so at Meg's reluctance to leave her alone. If only she knew, thought Cole, assuming to herself that the other woman had no idea. Not only was she a spy (or a spy in training, at least), she'd been alone her whole life. Sure, she'd often been saddled with adults who were supposed to look out for her welfare, but more often than not, they just made it harder to keep herself safe. Adults who thought stupid things, like you could get bullies to leave you alone by ignoring them (Cole found it worked much better to stab them or at least threaten to set them on fire in their sleep). Rather than share all this though, she gave a faint smile, forced but what was meant to be reassuring. " I'll be fine," she assured Meg, sounding quite confident about that fact. Still, she couldn't help but arch another skeptical eyebrow, both at being called 'dear' and the idea that security would be any help in a fight. Sure, she wasn't dressed like a foster kid piece of trash anymore, but Cole's general experience with security guards and cops had been that they were there to hassle you at the very least, and make your life a living hell at the worst. And they would always take an adult's word over a kid's. This was why Cole had to get so good at looking out for herself. If she hadn't been playing a role, she probably would have balked even more at the term of endearment, or at least pointed out that the security guards were probably idiots, but as it was, she just let the eyebrow arch stand on its own, and then shrugged a bit. " Yeah, so... See? I'll be fine." Even if she didn't believe the words, she had no problem using them to back up her own argument. " Yeah," Cole agreed, seizing upon this detail about the pretend tour guide and weaving it into her narrative easily. " Did you see her?" She glanced around again like worried she'd be caught by her school group. Mostly it gave her a chance to make sure her mark hadn't left the room. No, he seemed to be enjoying his conversation with the girls, it seemed to Cole. So she shifted her attention back to Meg again. " A favourite? Oh, well, um..." Cole didn't know why this part gave her a moment's hesitation. She supposed it was because she hadn't really been thinking of the suits in terms of even having a favourite. She looked at where Meg gestured and gave a little grin -- to her surprise, it was sincere. " Yeah, that one's pretty cool," she agreed with a nod, letting her gaze sweep over the other ones on display. " I sort of like that one too," she added, pointing towards a smaller suit, with painted black metal decorated with touches of gold and red. It was striking, visually, although it didn't look as powerful as some of the others. But what Cole really liked about it was that she could almost imagine it fitting her. Not that the museum was likely to let her try it on, but a girl could imagine. |
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Post by MEGAN ALICE BUTLER on Jul 11, 2012 20:33:48 GMT -5
She let out a quiet nervous giggle in response to the eyebrow raise at her "twitch". Scrunching up her face a little, Meg apologized quickly. "Sorry, it's a tic." She smiled a little, as if embarrassed but trying to make light of the moment. She knew that to some extent, Cole had seen through the look, and she would have to be just a little bit more wary. It really had been a while since she'd had to be in character, and she was sure that if her... colleagues (the most polite and still vaguely disrespectful title she could call the people she worked with, Meg prided herself of her choice of terms and when to drop a particular title) could see her, they'd be rolling on the floor laughing at her. Meg wasn't an expressive person, especially not with her face, and she felt a bit ridiculous. It's not like Botox, or something, she chided herself, although her face did feel a bit stretched.
As long as Cole didn't find her suspicious, Meg was okay with being looked upon as a total weirdo. She could play a weirdo, that was no issue. Her general experience with her job was that if people didn't think too highly of you, they wouldn't think too much of you, and that was always a plus. Project one image, of someone unmentionable and average, or someone with a few big social quirks, and you could get away with most everything in the disguise. Meg had to say, though, Cole had a very good poker face. Most of the CIA were much older before getting such a nice straight face. A few small traits still seeped through, but that was just training and learning to freeze your face. Meg doubted that her own poker face was entirely perfect, despite it being the face she usually wore.
"Mmhmm," she answered brightly in response to the blonde girl saying that she'd be fine. In a perfect world, she would be. Even then, Meg had no doubt that Cole couldn't take care of herself. Despite the jaded but still marginally hopeful teenager act she was putting on, the girl had a steady feel about her, like she'd be a good companion in a fight. The nostalgia hit again, and Meg steeled herself to not quirk a lip in annoyance at the feeling.
As if she didn't notice the eyebrow again, Meg pleasantly beamed at her for a second before turning her own attention back to the exhibit. She didn't have to see Cole scouting the room for her target (Meg idly wondered what type of mission it was, and guessed that it was a casual one, especially if there was no adult posted to the teenager) if she didn't want to. It was best to turn a blind eye to it, or else she might mention something she shouldn't.
"Oh, no, I don't think so." she said, shrugging. "A lot of the new guides have the papers. It's supposed to keep them from forgetting stuff, of course, and something about keeping the facts straight." Meg was generalizing, of course, as that was papers were usually for. She thought that the papers were tacky, and if the museum had enough money to hire a bunch of new people, they should invest in something more subtle than a clipboard full of papers. They rustled and caught people's attention, and were bad form for any presentation.
Meg nodded, smiling back a little despite herself. "Looks like you could fit in it," she voiced a bit absently. The suit was eye-catching and vivid, and Meg had to admit, Cole had good taste in terms of armor. "The Armani of the knight world, huh?" she laughed.
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words; 640
muse; - - -
outfit; simple black dress and heels
credits; zie @ CAUTION!
lyrics by Marianas Trench!
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Post by SUNSHINE COLE IRIS on Jul 12, 2012 21:20:12 GMT -5
Cole gave the woman a long look, mulling over this new information about a tic. She could sense the other woman was nervous (or was pretending to be), but she felt no need to rush to reassure her. Still, after weighing the evidence, she gave a little nod, like she'd allow it. " Guess I've seen weirder," she had to grant with a shrug, now smiling faintly herself, darkly amused at just how true that was. Her family and her time in the system had done nothing if not taught her how effed up people could be, and she expected her time with Fordham wasn't likely to disabuse her of the notion either. Compared to some of the people she'd met, a facial tic and slight nervous behaviour barely even registered. If it hadn't been for that earlier feeling of being watched, she wouldn't have given it a second thought, and even now, she was beginning to let her guard down just a little... inasmuch as she ever did. Cole didn't really think of her own talent as a poker face, although she had played, and played well, with some of the other kids at her last group home. There had been something satisfying in taking the money of the much older thugs who had hoped to scam who they thought was just a dumb little blonde girl. But no, Cole considered her extremely stoic expression more an outward projection of what was within. Even as a kid (for she didn't consider herself a kid anymore, and not for awhile), she'd liked to take her time to make up her mind on something before allowing herself to feel an emotion one way or another. And it had made it easier to numb the hurt each time an adult would inevitably let her down or purposefully do her harm. It took a lot these days for her to feel much of anything. The thought might have depressed her if she'd allowed it. Cole gave the woman another look, trying to resist the urge to look skeptical at her bright 'mmhmm.' It had been Cole, after all, who had first insisted she'd be safe at the museum, so it would have been counterintuitive to argue against it now. Cole doubted she'd be 'fine' in any real sense of the word, but the museum didn't pose any more threat to her than anywhere else, at least. Even if she screwed up her training mission, all she'd be able to do here was make a fool of herself... it wasn't until she got back to base that the real trouble would start. And for that reason alone, she was resolute not to screw up. She did allow herself to roll her eyes at the idea of tour guides and their stupid papers, at least, almost forgetting that this particular tour guide was only an imaginary construct and not really someone who had annoyed her. " God, yeah. I think it'd be better if they just made stuff up if they're too lazy to learn it for real." She couldn't imagine how you could be so stupid to not remember the details. She glanced around the room again, noting her mark, but also thinking of how much she'd picked up about these displays already, and she hadn't even been paying them much attention. Then again, she was being trained to notice and remember things, so it wasn't exactly a fair comparison... Then again again, when was life ever fair? Cole stopped fuming about this imaginary tour guide and offered another faint but real grin as Meg complimented her choice of armour, also noticing that the suit would have practically fit the thirteen year old. " Do you think it was made for a kid, or were people really that much smaller back then?" she wondered aloud, the question partly rhetorical, but open to Meg as well. Despite the fact she was adult, she might surprise Cole and actually know something, but the girl wasn't holding her breath. |
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Post by MEGAN ALICE BUTLER on Jul 16, 2012 20:29:11 GMT -5
Meg inclined her head at Cole's words, dark hair falling in her face. She did not doubt that the girl had seen much weirder things than a civilian with a weird facial tic. She was sure she had seen much, much weirder things. She remembered being posted to a place where Meg wasn't sure if they pumped hallucinogenic drug in the room, or what, but she could have sworn that she saw bright lights that were almost like fairies dancing about. The woman wouldn't put it entirely past the CIA to use a few chemical cocktails on their agents, even just for the psychological effect, but that day... she shook her head internally, focusing back on the conversation just in time for Cole to say something.
She smiled uncomfortably, both acting and actually wanting to change the subject. "Yeah." Meg stood in semi-awkward silence for a few moments before Cole shot her a skeptical look.
She had to admit, if the kid's thought process was working the way Meg thought it was (No, nostalgia, not now, she thought wryly) it was doubtful that anything would be "fine". In seven or eight years, she'd be thrown out onto the streets, hopefully a little bit more politely than Meg had personally been, and would have to find new things to do, all whilst dealing with the mental issues. No pension, no therapy, just reality, she reflected a bit bitterly. If the ex-CIA was still around when Cole was nixed, hell, if the CIA was still around (between Meg's current group and Fordham, she wouldn't be that surprised if something happened and the agencies, one or all three, were taken out), they'd swoop her up.
I wonder if she'd remember me. A flash of something a bit more pensive than what Meg would have liked came over her. She immediately pushed the thought down. It was so very unlikely, and a lot happened in seven years. Meg doubted her ability to remember Cole in seven years, and Cole was going through a lot more stress than she was. It would be weird, really, and- Meg pulled herself out of her thoughts long enough to pay attention to what Cole was saying. She was still talking about the tour guide (fictional or not fictional, Meg couldn't tell. Of course, it wasn't an actual tour guide, but it was likely that some guide had irritated the blonde girl).
"It would be so much more interesting," she found herself agreeing with the teenager. "I'd prefer to learn about Abraham Lincoln's drinking problems rather than that Honest Abe crap." She giggled a little, and then wanted to punch herself, because in all reality, that was a little too cynical for the role she was playing. She channeled this into fake concern for the "innocence" of Cole's ears. "Oh God, sorry. That was a stupid thing to say," she muttered, hunching her shoulders a little. Smooth, Megan. Smooth.
Meg brightened again at the mention of the armor. "Oh, I'm pretty sure that it's because it's not the actual armor, it's display stuff. It's so you can see the quality, but there's less weight to move around, less stuff to steal." She wasn't sure if it was entirely accurate, but vaguely remembered it being on some website.
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words; 570
muse; - - -
outfit; simple black dress and heels
credits; zie @ CAUTION!
lyrics by Marianas Trench!
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Post by SUNSHINE COLE IRIS on Jul 18, 2012 20:44:34 GMT -5
Cole had definitely seen weird things, but she was only getting started. No doubt her life with Fordham would open her eyes to just how effing weird the world could get, because right now, despite her seen-it-all act, she really had no idea. Sure, her life in the foster system had been filled with a certain degree of badness, but that was like an innocent childhood compared to what she was getting into now. The training missions and shopping sprees stage of her career couldn't go on much longer. Soon -- too soon -- she'd be shoved out into the field and forced to do things even an adult shouldn't be asked to do, let alone a little girl. How well her jaded cynicism would stand up to that, well, only time would tell at this point. She didn't force the issue as things turned awkward, shrugging again to Meg's 'yeah' and then just studying the room, the suits of armour -- and of course, taking a moment to glance at her mark as she did -- while the awkwardness settled upon them and then passed. She wasn't huge on social niceties and felt no need to rush to smooth things over, but neither did she seem terribly bothered that things had turned awkward in the first place. What would happen to Cole in seven or eight years? God, that was a hard one to predict. Of course, being Fordham and not CIA, her career didn't have a pre-set shelf life, but then again, it wasn't like the life of a child agent was without risks. Would she even live to see eighteen, nineteen? That remained to be seen, although Cole, filled with the certainty and immortality of a teenager, wasn't particularly worried about being killed in action. She was too smart for that, she was sure. And these training missions and shopping trips had caused her to lower her guard a little... Things at Fordham didn't seem all that bad, when she compared her experiences so far with what the other kids dared to whisper about. Cole's attention moved back to Meg then, once she'd confirmed that her mark hadn't yet left the room. He must have been doing really well with the coed, since they both were laughing. Cole had to fight the urge to roll her eyes at his stupid expression and the young woman's overeager flirting. People got so stupid once hormones got involved. She wasn't completely oblivious to boys, but so far, they hadn't seemed as important as other things in her life. She couldn't yet understand why people risked it all for love. And considering the current trajectory of her life, it was debatable if she ever would have the chance to understand. Her eyebrows arched at the mention of Lincoln's drinking problem, and for a moment she wasn't sure whether to act scandalized or delighted. What would the jaded little girl hiding from her school trip think of that? Inwardly, Cole found herself at least a little more impressed by the woman now, and as she rushed to apologize, Cole couldn't help but let out a laugh. " No, you're right. I'd stick around for that lecture. Maybe. Sometimes it seems like they try to make history boring." She didn't see how teachers and textbook authors could be so good at taking subjects like war and making them so dull. But she didn't press the issue, instead looking back at her chosen suit of armour. As Meg pointed out that it probably wasn't real, she couldn't help but look and feel a little disappointed. Somehow that seemed like a cheat, museums using fakes instead of the real thing. " Really? That's lame. Like anyone's going to want to steal a suit of armour anyway. Don't they have, like, jewels and stuff? Or are those fake too?" Suddenly, she found herself wondering if anything in this place was real, or if it was all just a hoax. Why did people pay good money to look at reproductions, she wondered. You might as well just look at them online or on TV, since at least that was free. Then again, why bother looking at all? |
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Post by MEGAN ALICE BUTLER on Jul 19, 2012 21:37:02 GMT -5
Meg knew better than most people the horrors of Cole's field. She'd try to be a little less melodramatic, but it was true. Being a child spy was no piece of cake, and the CIA trained you to make sure you were sure of that. They taught how to crush your emotions down, how to act a convincing role, how to take orders, how to do things that no one should have even thought of, let alone perform. Meg remembered the first time she had to shoot at someone, a real person, not just a cut out or a target.
God, I couldn't have been much older than Cole. She thought about it, and came to the realization that it was probably when she was fourteen, almost fifteen, two years before the worst mission of her career. Meg's memory of whatever the mission was had been faded over, but she just remembered that she hit her target and it was not glorified like it was in the movies. Not at all.
Psych evaluations all around, the Irishwoman thought gloomily, combing a strand of black hair out of her face. Cole was looking about again, and Meg saw no reason to call attention to it, placidly staring ahead at one of the swords. If the other girl she was with didn't call attention to the silence, she wouldn't break it. It left room for Meg to enjoy the exhibit as well.
Meg had learned all too well that even if you were smart and quick with your weapon, hubris could swift become your end. She had been sixteen, on what was supposed to be a simple mission that was "go in, get your information, get out" but ended up, as she called it in her head, the mission that started everything (melodrama aside).
The tables had been quickly turned on them when Fordham had an agent in there, as well, and the owners of the cafe that Meg was supposed to be questioning knew that they were both there due to some massive information leak that they had known about but hadn't bothered to plug.. They started a shootout, and the CIA had to "send people around" (codewords for the mission being FUBAR and needing a damn SWAT team, she thought to herself bitterly) to pick the terrified sixteen year old and her dead handler up. I still have to use silencers today, not to mention, oh, the pathological fear of loud noises.
That mission triggered Meg's already cynical psyche to lash out against the ones who had sent her on the mission when they easily knew of the consequences. She worked so hard to break the rules without breaking the rules, to do little things that eventually became bigger things just to get past the system. Of course the CIA retaliated and her last two years with them were easily the worst, with all the retribution and psychological warfare on both ends. It ended in lulls where Meg stopped in fear of brutal punishments and the CIA waited until she got them back.
Meg let a tentative smile creep out onto her face as Cole didn't immediately take offense or act too shocked. "For people who spend their lives on the subject, yeah, you'd think that they'd be able to make it cool," she said. It was one of her pet peeves, indeed. If someone spent enough time on something they enjoyed, they should be able to transfer that passion when presenting, to show why it was so cool to them. Otherwise, it would have absolutely no effect.
Meg paused for a second, tightening her lips. "I don't know. I'm sure they just don't want the more valuable artifacts to get stolen." Cole was right, it did seem lame that they were just showing fakes off to the populace. Judging from the cameras and the security, though, she was sure that at least some of it was real, and shared that fact with Cole. "If it was up to me, I'd love one of these suits." she added with a half-smile.
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words; 694
muse; - - -
outfit; simple black dress and heels
credits; zie @ CAUTION!
lyrics by Marianas Trench!
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