exsilium | LOG IN: #01 ( audio. )

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LOG IN: #01 ( audio. )

[ Em doesn't very much enjoy talking or, in general, socializing. Not that she's anti social, it's just that she is very shy and social situations get her anxious and apprensive and she never really knows what to say. She's a quiet person outside her group of friends and she prefers a book to going out, but this time, it's clearly a very different situation she has found herself in. Her voice is quivering, a extremely faint French accent slipping in some syllables and words, but far from the cartoonish exaggeration that the French tend to speak English in. ]

This is a mistake. [ A long pause to suck in some air into her lungs, a shiver audible through her breathing. ] I cannot be here. Not alone-- not without them. Please, my children. I-- I can't leave them with him. Don't do this, please, someone. Take me back. They're alone with him.

[ There is a longer pause now, where she's just breathing. There's a sound which makes it look like she's slumping down on the floor or leaning back, and her voice comes a little muffled as she keeps herself together, possibly a hand over her mouth. ]

You can't do this to them.

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( Things that get Helena Bertinelli's attention: upset women, the mention of children, and the mention of children in trouble.

Considering how distressed she sounds, Helena's coming to the conclusion that the Initiative has really outdone themselves. Helena speaks softly, calmly. She has her own accent, Sicilian layered with American, but her or the other woman's origins are hardly her focus for the moment. )

From what I've heard, time operates differently here to how it does at home, so your children won't actually be alone with the individual you mentioned. They might also be here already.

( She'll leave it at that, first off; too much information isn't going to be processable. ) I'm Helena. What's your name?

[Sonya doesn't like, you know, feelings. That sort of thing. People being unhappy and weird? Definitely makes her uncomfortable, and so she usually stays pretty hands-off. Plus motherhood in general is just so completely separate from her own sphere of existence that she just...avoids it.

But for some reason she speaks up now.]

Hi. Sofiya Karimov. Where are you right now?

'Allo, chère? I'm gonna ask you ta calm down an' take a deep breath. Think you can do that, for me?

Oh great, another whiner.

[Because he's an ass.]

[Her heart aches with sympathy, and it's clear in her voice.]

I've heard that time stops, while we're here. Your children are safe. [She can't know that, not really, but she wants to offer some comfort, some peace of mind.]

[ That does very little to calm her down. They are still alone with Levi; she doesn't know what he will do to them. Doesn't know if he's going to raise them like some kind of fake saviours from some insane prophecy. She doesn't want anyone from that crazy cult raising her babies. If she can't raise them on her own, then Jules should come for them, take them away from that awful place.

She has to. ]

How do you know? [ She has never been much of an optimist. That was her wife's thing. Her counter-balance to her cynism, her too "down to Earth" persona. She did her good. So much. ] They're just babies. They're just babies.

[ A shaky breath, and the woman takes a long pause. Trying to calm herself down, gathering herself. Trying not to break (though she has done it for so long back at the Tower, sometimes it's hard - now, especially, it's very hard). ]

Emilia. I'm Emilia. [ Another pause. ] Please, isn't there someone I can talk to?

[ The name is not familiar, but then again, nothing is. She stares at the device in her hands, the audio that comes from it and drops her head. Nobody can help her. There's nobody with the solution she wants: to go back. It might be worse back in her world, monsters lurking in every corner waiting to eat you, but at least there's a resemblance of a home. Of a family. ]

I don't know. [ How is she to know? It's a new place, she can't really give directions - and even if she could, why would she tell a stranger? ] Here. What does it matter? I shouldn't be here in the first place.

[ She's just average, but in this case, she's different. She believes herself to be. ]

[ Well, there's an accent she hasn't heard in a long time (other than her own, that is). Nevertheless, it's not welcoming, not really, because it's condescending. How dare this... person, whoever they are, tell her to calm down when her kids are missing? A mother can't help these things, regardless of clichés. ]

That will not solve the situation, will it? [ A bit bitter, a lot despaired. ] Who are you?

[ So, okay, the accent did spike curiosity. ]

[ Is she supposed to answer this rude person? Because she doesn't really care for rude people (which is ironic, considering how mindlessly rude she can be without even noticing). ]

Do not clutter. I only care to know about getting out of here, not your little opinion of me. [ Which isn't said with as much rudeness as you would think, although it's very dismissive, like she isn't paying any attention to it. ]

It does not make it any better. [ Sort of a nightmare. Time stopping? Her children trapped with that man in perfect stillness until her return? It sends a cold chill down and up her spine, letting her stomach churn in painful stress. If time runs, there is the faint possibility of Jules's return. She wants that, more than anything, even if she is not there to dive into her arms. ]

They are not safe as long as we're trapped in that Tower.

You have an address? I know a few places where you can get a stiff drink.

[ Her face is a mask of offense taken, however as it is on audio mode, you can't see it - but you can certainly hear the appalled tone in her voice. ]

I don't need alcohol to cope with my worry for my children. [ If she had said "how dare you", it would be the exact same tone. There's also some mambo jambo in French about how ridiculous that suggestion was in a desperate tone. ]

[And in return, there's a fair amount of annoyance in her own voice.]

I was thinking it might help with your impending panic attack.

No, but it might stop you from havin' a heart attack, so you can deal with it.

Name's Remy. Didn't think that was so important, since you obviously have bigger things on your mind.

When you go back, it'll be like it never happened. No one will know. [But she knows it doesn't help much.]

And maybe, after being here, you'll be able to get them out. [But that might.]

You're the one cluttering. You've already been told there's no way back, so get used to it.

I have friends here from different times than myself, with no memory of each of us disappearing. The time I'm spending here has no bearing on the world at home.

( It's not the most comforting thing she could say, but it's about all she's got. Comforting people is hards. It'd be easier if it were just the kids that needed looking after, to be honest. )

Emilia, okay. Listen, Emilia, the Initiative can't get us home. People randomly disappear home because they can't control the mechanics of it, but their effort to return people home in an organized manner didn't work.

( Right now is not the time for Emilia to hear about world's ending. Yikes. ) There are people you can talk to, but the best they can do is act as messengers between you and the Initiative.

[Infinite universes, and some things never change. She's careful to speak in the gentle but authoritative tone she learned when she was a cop trying to help terrified victims]

I'm sorry, I can't do anything for you right now, but if you'd be willing, I could help you prepare to go back home. My name is Renee Montoya, I'm...I was a police officer, and if you would like to meet with me once you are settled and discuss your situation, I might be able to help you keep your children away from him forever when you return.

[ The words of confort and hope are not enough for her; then again, nothing will be but the words of promise of her return to her children or her children to herself. There's a slight clink of metal, the handcuffs around her wrists sounding so as she moves her hands to a more comfortable position so not to get chaffed skin (or, well, not as much as they already are) and hold the device better. ]

I don't want to talk [ She has never been a fan of it either. ] I just need to go home, to my kids.

[ Usually, she's more logical, listens closely, but the despair mixed with her natural stubbornness (or determination, the line between these two is thin when it comes to Emilia) are making her disregard the whole "the system is broken." ]

I've already lost my partner, I cannot lose my children too. [ It's not fair. ]

My children are gone. [ Her voice rises a slight octave in irritation and disbelief. It's not unreasonable for a mother to worry herself sick about the separation of her family. ] There's no drink in this world or the next that would ever help.

[Flatly:]

Sure. Neat. Got it. Never mind.

[ She doesn't know what she was expecting for na answer, but probably not really that. She doesn't know him, what was she thinking? Being irrational is leaving her frustrated and the fact that she can't focus to calm herself down only adds to her stress. ]

I-- Nevermind. I have to return this-- all of this. I don't want any of this, I just want to go home.

[ She never comforms to things, especially to what strangers tell her. She has a hard time trusting anyone so some random woman that kidnapped her hardly seems like a safe source. ]

I will not give up on my children. I'm sorry that whatever you have back home is not important enough for you to give up. But I have nothing else.

[ There's a pause, like she is trying, really trying, to assimilate that information, to calm herself under this new light. Alas, it's too hard. The image of her twins is still too fresh, the light scent of sulfur from Levi... ]

... How?

[ While in her world in some communities there are sentinels, there hasn't been a police officer of any kind in many years, so the word has lost some meaning, but she understands the sentiment behind. ]

I don't think we belong in the same world. We don't have any... policemen there. [ A beat, the chain of the handcuffs clinking slightly against the communicator as she shifts the position of her hands. ] I don't understand. Help me prepare how?

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LOG IN: #01 ( audio. )

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