said it's a culmination of a story and a goodbye session

[innocentralized]

[WELL, THAT ALL ENDED WELL.

As usual (why is this usual, again? Damn it, London), people have to resume their everyday lives. Time waits for no man, after all. No man, no woman, no one inbetween. This is exactly why Michi can be found hitting the books outside at her usual cafe! ... Or more like. Sitting there, staring death into the book until its information sticks in her brain. She plays with her hair idly and watches as the people pass by, head sort of lolling off to the side in a very unladylike fashion -- she couldn't look any more bored if she tried to.

But if that's not your cup of tea, feel free to head on down to the Thames, where you'll see a young blonde girl, approximately age sixteen, washed up on the shore. Her clothing is a good 61 years younger than "today's" fashions, for anyone that would notice. A cute, yellow dress. A-line, floral print. Very 40s.

She doesn't scream. She doesn't even try coughing the water out of her lungs. All she does is sit up and look around the area, with wide eyes -- one blue, one a brilliant gold.]

Comments

[intellectualrapist]

[Dot dot dot...]

You were doing well until you made it obvious the trains of thought had nothing to do with each other. Ah, for an amateur, I suppose I'll give it an even score of five out of ten. But that's still a failing mark, right?

[Despite sounding condescending - because it's Erika - she seems like she's in a good mood as she taps the table. Her tone is a little nicer, too.] Next time, keep the topic jumps going in a direction that seems related. They don't actually need to be. But even a poor liar can distract well with enough words. Also make sure you engage your subject so that they don't have time to think too much about what you're saying. Questions that force them to focus on whatever topic you pick work, too.

That's what I've learned as a detective. [Look she is being helpful by teaching valuable life skills.]

[hairpining]

...

[She just sort of. Stares for a couple of seconds, amazed, before she opens her mouth again.]

Ah, Miss Erika truly is an amazing person... I shall be certain to keep this advice of yours in mind. Thank you very much!

[intellectualrapist]

[Erika preens a little, sitting up straighter.]

Of course. Though, it's less fun for me if the lies are really obvious, too. I'm still curious about whatever happened. But... your type of personality probably would be shocked by death. You're usually 'safe', right?

[hairpining]

'Safe'? I...

[Maybe that means 'sheltered?' She's not sure, so she shakes her head slightly, trying to clear her mind.]

Until that day, I had never seen a corpse. Is that safe, Miss Detective?

[intellectualrapist]

It could be considered as such. 'Safe' usually means someone who has been lucky enough to avoid seeing the darker side of life. Do you think that applies to you?

[hairpining]

Um...

I-I suppose that it may. I was not even permitted to go to my grandparents' funerals.

[intellectualrapist]

[That's a little strange. She looks more interested.] Why? Did your mother or father not get along with them?

[hairpining]

Father was quite fond of them, I simply... wasn't allowed, I suppose.

... I don't know.

[intellectualrapist]

...Have you ever thought to look into it?

[Detective senses are tingling.]

[hairpining]

No. I do not resent him.

[She pauses for a bit, then waves her hand dismissively.]

I am not sane, after all.

[intellectualrapist]

Sanity is a hot commodity in this place. What makes you think you aren't sane?

[hairpine]

I hear them. Always.

It is only due to my father's hard work that I am not far worse, Miss Erika.

[Even if her smile is as carefree as it usually is, her tone is much flatter, her voice lower, as if to suggest she speaks in a slight sing-song normally. It's all very uncharacteristic!

And she would like to stop talking about this now.]

[intellectualrapist]

[It only takes a second to work out what she means. Oh. Well. Uh.]

...Ah, yes, your father must be quite talented in that regard. [What else do you really say to that?] Is he a good man?

[hairpining]

He treats me very well, and in return he is adored by me. ... That is all that I am capable of. Father, however, always tries the very best that he can. With the money left by Grandfather and Grandmother, he and I get by.

He is a good man.

[intellectualrapist]

[That wording sounds strange to her.] 'All that I am capable of'? I wouldn't say you're impressive but that seems harsh...

[hairpining]

It's the truth.

[intellectualrapist]

[Somehow that statement is vaguely creepy.] You're much stranger than you first appear.

[hairpining]

[Story of her life in every incarnation, to be honest! Vaguely creepy, for multiple reasons.]

I apologize.

[Of course she's still smiling, but her tone hasn't changed either -- it's not really sincere-sounding, but the difference between it and her normal speech could make it seem so. She means it.

She really means it.]

[intellectualrapist]

[Even Erika isn't sure she wants to dig at that too fast. It feels like striking something that could strike back. While exciting, she's trying to be less reckless.]

No, I actually prefer more interesting people to dull, normal ones. I was just surprised I didn't notice it sooner. Well... I guess it would be boring if the detective got everything right on the first page.

[She shrugs and waves her hand.] Are you still interesting in reading mysteries?

[hairpining]

I like to read, when I am able. Inside books are hidden worlds entire, simply for myself or others to immerse themselves in. Isn't that pleasant?

Does living in London make you happy, Miss Erika?

[intellectualrapist]

Hm? [She didn't expect that. She blinks once, debating how to answer, before just sighing. A small but sincere smile tugs at the corners of her lips as she rests her head against one hand.] ...Yes. If I had to live in this backwater fragment forever, then I would be happy with that.

[Mostly because of one person, with the addition of a couple of very close friends. She can be sentimental sometimes.]

[hairpine]

Ah.

Then, I'm afraid that it's impossible for you to understand me.

[intellectualrapist]

Because you hate it here and the pressure of madness? Do you have no one to anchor you? If that's the case, I can safely say for the beginning of my stay, I would understand. And truth be told, if I could escape this place with him, I would do so without hesitation. I'm already frayed... I don't need these walls crushing me further.

[hairpining]

I have my father, and I have Mr Christopher, and I am happy in any place where I am able to see them, but... I do. I hate this place. I hate that I seldom sleep thanks to their incessant chattering, I hate that I am incapable of feigning sanity well enough to work or even marry -- and I hate Mother, for not giving birth to me successfully, or perhaps because she chose to give birth to me at all. There are so many things that I have come to hate, Miss Erika.

Any place other than this world is preferable, and so I found a fondness for literature, but only when I am permitted to read.

[intellectualrapist]

[Wow that sure was...more than she was expecting. Uh. Erika blinks a few times.]

For saying you can't feign sanity, you do a better job than you give yourself credit for... at least in our brief meetings. Though, I have to say, I'm surprised you bother with living if you despise it so much.

[She sure is helpful today.]