[Social] Rooftop Madness

[Miriam Bell]

"No. But it's the sugar in them that turns into alcohol." she fully turns towards Will. "I need to find a diabetic willing to donate some blood."

[Will Stanton]

"You want to brew blood-based booze, huh?"

[Miriam Bell]

"I haven't had a drink I actually felt in ages."

[Will Stanton]

"Well, Lippencott did have me taking Practical Malting and Brewing, so if you're looking to get smashed..."

[Miriam Bell]

"God, that class sounds like it'd have the most insufferable people. Present company excluded."

[Will Stanton]

"Oh, I'm fairly sure I can be insufferable, as well. That's about the only go-to move I had when trying to Prefect things up."

[Miriam Bell]

"All is forgiven if you help me make blood wine."

[Will Stanton]

"batlh bIHutlhchoH," Will nodded. "We'll find a way to get you off your tits one way or another."

[Miriam Bell]

"Is the talking gibberish part of it?" she quirks an eyebrow.

[Will Stanton]

"After eight hours of classes? Yeah, I'd say most of what I got out of it was indeed talking gibberish, though I'm sure some stuck somewhere up here," he said, pointing to his head in the universal "thinking" gesture.


"Though I'm not sure anything covered...psychic gothic castles? Bodice ripper novel heroines?"

[Miriam Bell]

"Please, no one is coming to rip my bodice right now. This is... best I can figure I'm manifesting the metaphor in my head."

[Will Stanton]

"You sure? You certainly turned some heads by making out with Sam at the Point," Will teased.

"This is how you see yourself, is it?"

[Miriam Bell]

"Oh please, like flustering Sam is actually all that difficult." she laughs.

"And yeah, I suppose it is. What can I say, I'm a romantic in the classical sense. I'm sure somewhere in my head you'll find my crushes exquisitely dieing of consumption."

[Will Stanton]

"And to think, they sent me to Muir because I thought a chair was rather comfy," Will quipped.

"This has been going on for a while? I've been somewhat out of the loop. And it's just sort of...instinctual? Little control?"

[Miriam Bell]

"A couple weeks. I've been trying to keep it under wraps, especially with everything that was going on. I'm getting better at but it's..." she stares off into the distance for a moment. "...like getting lost in a dream. Focusing on mine is pretty easy. Other peoples' are... easy to get lost in and that's when it goes out of my control. Because I lose focus, disappear into it too much."

[Will Stanton]

"You mean you can bring other people's, uh, self-image out into the world? In, what, a six-foot bubble of altered reality?

That's...new. I mean, not only did you never do that when we were in the penthouse," he said, dodging around the issue of why the two were in the penthouse. "But, uh, your doppelganger from back home never quite managed that trick, although I suppose she did something similar..."

[Miriam Bell]

"Self-image, mind palace, whatever you want to call it. The metaphorical constructs that represent their thoughts and emotions. I don't know how they can be this concrete, if these interpretations are coming from me or from them, but a couple feet is what I can kind of keep a handle on, especially when they're mine. Otherwise... I'm not sure, I lose myself in these expansive places and it spreads. Much further than six feet, I think."

[Will Stanton]

Will frowned. "I don't mean to judge one's own powers and the exploration thereof, but that seems potentially...dangerous, Miriam. Maybe now that the jerk-offs aren't in charge, we can figure out a way to help ground you to reality, at least a little bit."

[Miriam Bell]

"It's just... stuff. Places. Landscapes, architecture. How dangerous could it be..." she says, neglecting to mention the time she trapped herself in a coffin full of blood.

[Will Stanton]

"Well, I mean, it's stuff now. Maybe one day it will be other things. People, maybe. Might force people to play along, too.

I mean, if you can control that, it's pretty amazing. But if you can't, you wouldn't want Bela Legosi walking in on us, would you? Your bodice would be the least in-jeopardy thing in that situation."

[Miriam Bell]

"You're worried I might literally summon peoples' demons."

"Okay maybe that's a little bit terrifying."

[Will Stanton]

"'Worried' is strong. So far, you're just doing excellent set design, and I can appreciate excellent set design.

But, y'know, things develop. I wasn't always ultra-useful. There were days when I could barely change my hair color, you know."

[Miriam Bell]

"Yeah, actually, can we talk about how exceedingly ordinary you really look like?" she smirks.

[Will Stanton]

"Yeah, I...don't look like that. Not anymore.

I mean, we can bicker and argue about what shape my 'real' one is, but that? That's a relic of the past. I, uh, don't use it."

[Miriam Bell]

"I know. I've seen the inside of your head. But I can't possibly let that go uncommented upon. Not after I had to spend the day with bloody bunny ears."

[Will Stanton]

"See, unlike boring old pudgy me, I like Miriam with bunny ears. Really offsets the whole dark, pale and mysterious vibe you rock."

[Miriam Bell]

"That's just because you have questionable taste."

[Will Stanton]

"Questionable taste, hrm? I saw you going at that water bottle. Or are you saying that anyone's blood would have done? Hussy," Will mock-pouted, turning his back.

[Miriam Bell]

"You're the only one I know who takes pride in the taste of their blood."

[Will Stanton]

"I take pride in lots of things. Taste comes up...oddly frequently.

You may have heard Sam reigniting the Fulacht na Morrigna. Now, if you can explain why Irish mythology has their goddess of death involved with a cooking hearth, you will be the first. Chich na Morrigna, I get, but cooking pot? Weird stuff. Fitting for me, but weird stuff notwithstanding."

[Miriam Bell]

"It's mythology, none of it makes any bloody sense."

[Will Stanton]

"Says the vampire on the gothic rooftop which doesn't exist, talking to the sentient lump of clay."

[Miriam Bell]

"My point exactly."

[Will Stanton]

"Well, maybe there in lies the problem. Sam operates under a certain logic, even if it's not one that's always clear. I operate under a certain logic, even if it's not one that most people always understand. Maybe you just need to figure out your logic."

[Miriam Bell]

"I think I finally am figuring it out."

[Will Stanton]

"Something something windswept moors and pre-Victorian styling?"

[Miriam Bell]

"I don't think it'll ever be quite as literal as you or even Sam. But I'm melancholic and moody, a bit narcissistic and snobbish, yeah. The dark pits of the sub-conscious have always just... made sense to me. But all trappings aside, I think my logic is just... intimate."

[Will Stanton]

"And when we're intimate, we risk getting hurt, which makes it hard, I'm sure."

[Miriam Bell]

"It's almost always been hurt. And when it wasn't I made sure it turned out that way. Because it was familiar. Safe."

[Will Stanton]

"It's control. That's what you've always been looking for, isn't it? When you're calling the shots, no one can hurt you "