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the mistletoe meme
Huh... There's a mistletoe right above you... T'is the season-- almost. And it looks like you got stuck right under that mistletoe with someone else. And you both can't move until you kiss one another (Of course, not specifying where that kiss needs to happen).

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[ She hears Målingen's tinkling laughter in her mind even before she realizes that she's rooted to the floor. It's the first sign that she's made some sort of a mistake. ]

Sis... [ she mutters, ] what did you do to the mistletoe?

I modified it.

I knew that much...

[ But Målingen is playing dumb now, and Lockne can't help but sigh in exasperation. She's glad to have her sister back. Of course she is. But. Well. Sisters.

As it is, it seems like she's trapped in place. The mistletoe - or more accurately, the chiral rendition of mistletoe - was rigged. Lockne supposes that she's stuck here until someone comes along, gets stuck with her, and...

She groans aloud, and another peal of laughter sounds in her mind.

The good/bad news? She's right at the delivery terminal of the Bridges facility in Mountain Knot City. A porter will come along sooner or later, right? ]

[ It's like a blow to the head every time she jumps--like all of the blood in her rushes to the top like a wave climbing over a cliff, crashing down into whatever waits below; there's the trusty twist and flick of her umbrella, the way the metal creaks slightly with the movement, and then she's back on her feet, the ground solid beneath her and fatigue a real, almost tangible presence, enough that she lets out a sigh of remorse before her boots pivot her forward and under the awning of the Bridges facility. Her gloved hand tightens around the handle of the precious cargo she's carrying: a simple run of drugs and medicines, but fragile enough that she doesn't want to risk swinging it around as she braces her umbrella against her shoulder and walks carefully down the ramp into the facility proper.

She's not expecting company, which shows in the almost playful lift of her brow as she approaches what looks to be Lockne, at the delivery terminal, standing awkwardly tight as though there's some sort of force locking her feet in place. She says nothing, at first, tapping into the terminal in order to register her delivery and put it, rather delicately, with both hands onto the conveyor belt.]

Are you expecting someone? [ She asks, once she straightens up again--and gives Lockne another cursory, curious sort of glance. From so close to her, she notices that there's something her eyes keep flicking towards; Fragile makes a show of setting down her own case and her umbrella, stepping closer until she can slowly angle her gaze up and let out a delighted sort of laugh.]

Is this something you did yourself? It's very festive of you, much more than I was expecting. [ And more potent, too--now that she's standing so close to Lockne, she finds that her boots are stuck in place, making her wobble enough that she plants a palm down onto the girl's shoulder for balance.] And very...debilitating.

[ There are footsteps behind her, and Lockne's caught between the relief that she'll hopefully be able to free herself, and the frustration that she'll need the approaching porter's help to free herself. She twists awkwardly in place, and it's at least a little bit of good news that the porter in question is someone she at least knows; she can only imagine trying to explain herself to someone with whom she's not already familiar.

Målingen is still laughing. Lockne sighs, but offers Fragile a smile as the other woman turns to her, stepping closer. For a moment, she thinks she should warn her, but Fragile's already taken that step in, and wobbling, and Lockne's hand immediately goes out to help support her even as Fragile steadies herself on her shoulder. ]

I... kind of did it myself. [ But that's nowhere near good enough, and she rolls her eyes, feeling somehow even more helpless - and she's currently locked in place by a strange chiral mistletoe contraption, so that's saying something. She sighs yet again. ] I asked the chiral artist to make some mistletoe to decorate, just for fun. It's the holidays, after all. But... well, apparently a certain someone abused her connection to me to... change it, I guess. [ She offers Fragile a wry smile. ] And now she won't stop laughing at me.

[ Again. Sisters. Lockne's just about ready to have Fragile jump her to the Beach so she can kick Målingen's ass. ]

So... as it is, we're stuck here. Until... [ There really is no good way to say this, is there? She's a scientist; she's best when she's talking software and gadgets, not... this. ] Until the mistletoe does what it's meant to do. Unless you can Jump free? [ Not that that will help her, but at least Fragile won't be caught up in this mess of a prank. ]

Edited 2019-12-30 14:23 (UTC)

You trapped yourself? [ She asks the question like she's unconvinced, because who could possibly want to do something to themselves like this? Perhaps someone desperate for some kind of human connection; that's not exactly how she's seen Lockne, the girl who's been willingly sheltered off from the rest of them for so long. She watches her almost curiously, but as soon as she mentions a certain someone, Fragile can't help but laugh, nodding almost sagely, as the pieces seem to click into place.

Really, it's rather ingenious, if she can say so herself. It's the perfect sort of trap to lock someone in--though perhaps she is not exactly the intended target. She might try to stay away from others, but only because of the way they see her. She doesn't have that same sort of fear that Sam does--or any of the others, putting up walls to try to block out close contact.

So she squeezes at Lockne's shoulder, shaking her head neatly, slowly, a deliberate back and forth.]

I don't think it would work. [ Of course it would work, but she wouldn't be able to take Lockne with her, not with the way she's rooted down, and that would spoil the whole thing.] It's looking like there's only one thing we can do.

[ Both of her hands are soft, almost gentle, on either of Lockne's shoulders; her gloved fingertips brush curiously at either side of her neck from where it's sheltered by her raised collar, wondering what it might feel like to have her long hair swept out over the backs of her hands.]

If you don't mind me.

[ She's cute, sis. You could do way worse.

It's something of a saving grace that Målingen says the words in her mind, this time, rather than borrowing her mouth. She can only imagine having to explain that one away. As it is, things are already risky enough, what with Fragile's gloved, gentle hands on her shoulders, brushing at the high collar of her vest.

Her sister is right - Fragile is gorgeous. It's not just her physical appearance; it's something in the way she holds herself: strong, despite everything she's been through in the past. Kind, despite the betrayals she's suffered. Gentle and patient, despite the undeserved reputation that has followed her since the destruction of Middle Knot. It all combines to make her admirable, beautiful, and up close like this it all seems magnified somehow.

Lockne struggles to find her words for a moment, but she swallows and nods, and the small part of her that isn't busy cursing itself is still echoing with Målingen's laughter, although her sister at least has the grace to sound a little sympathetic, now. It'll be fine, Lockne.

I know. And for the first time, Lockne wonders if maybe this wasn't just a prank, but a way for her sister to help her get back on track after her long isolation. She's alive, and whole - perhaps it's time to start acting like it.

Suddenly aware that she's been lost in her own thoughts for a little too long, she offers Fragile a small smile. ] Yes. Yes, of course.

[ It's something that she's used to, that kind of silence. Normally it's the sort that's almost malicious, the kind that comes once her face has been revealed and then there's the bitter, angry words or the demands of repayment or explanations for her supposed betrayal. Other times it's awestruck or even terrified, as though simply looking at her will cause trouble or problems, like it's better to be as far outside of her reach as possible. She usually just smiles. There's something more foreboding about smiling in the face of adversity; she finds that sometimes it can startle people into leaving her alone.

Perhaps, then, it's not exactly the same with Lockne; she seems to be more preoccupied with the thoughts and voices in her head than anything else, and given what little Fragile already knows about her, it makes sense, and she doesn't hold it against her. Instead, she's pliantly patient, watching her almost curiously, and it's only once she speaks again that her smile widens, just slightly, enough to be noticed.

Part of her had thought--well, given Lockne's past endeavors, that perhaps kissing another girl wouldn't be relevant to her interests. It's both a relief and something of interest that she doesn't seem to mind. ]

Alright then. [ Her voice borders on cheerful, even playful, though she's trying to sound resolute.] Close your eyes.

[ She doesn't have to, not really--either way, Fragile leans in, her fingers tightening, and maybe it's the added chiral density from the mistletoe, or maybe it has something to do with the levels around her, but her jacket tenses too, the spikes pricking up neatly when she leans in and their lips touch, soft but sure.]

[ It's not that Lockne's ever really thought about kissing another woman before. It's not that she's particularly against the idea either. In truth, apart from that one brief moment in time, she's never really experienced much more than fleeting moments of attraction. She's never thought to define herself, because she's never needed defining.

That's what she thought, anyway. Målingen apparently had other ideas.

Whether she has to or not, Lockne closes her eyes, and then three things happen. First, a soft pair of lips presses into hers, gentle and yet with a practiced kind of confidence.
Second, she feels her feet shift under her, her body instantly freed from the chiral hold.
Third, someone says Oh, and she's not sure if it's her or Målingen, or if the words were just in her mind or spoken aloud against Fragile's lips.
Fourth, her fingers tighten their grip on the other woman's forearm.

Fifth, it's entirely possible that Lockne's forgotten how to count.

At this point, the correct and proper thing to do would be to step back, break the kiss and thank Fragile, perhaps apologize again for their situation. But she doesn't want to do that. Maybe it's because she's been for so long without genuine human contact. Maybe it's something else. (Maybe it's how good those lips feel against hers.) And so she takes the advantage of having freed-up feet to step in that little bit closer, finally returning the kiss. ]

[ She doesn't quite realize that they're free until Lockne takes that one step forward--and it surprises her, because why should she? If the spell is broken, if it's already struck midnight and everything's going to turn back into a pumpkin, shouldn't she move away instead? There's nothing here that she needs anymore. Fragile feels it too, the hold suddenly absent, the chiral matter around them thinning like it's tangible. Her jacket mellows, sinking and smoothing out again, and even if it's only been meant to be a peck on the lips, it turns into something more before she can stop it.

Maybe she's starved for this kind of attention, too--the kind that Sam would never be keen enough to give to her, and other than him, who else is there left in the world that wants her? Perhaps this is the only moment she will have to relive for some time. Perhaps that's why she doesn't break away, either.

But when the kiss finally runs out of air, Fragile's hands are still curved around Lockne's shoulders, inching up like they yearn to press against the sides of her collar. She gives a soft sound, a playful consideration, before she opens her eyes again, runs her tongue over her lips.]

I guess that's that then. [ She says with another smile, but she's not moving. Not quite yet. Not until she sees what she can discern from Lockne's expression.] I'm glad I could help.

Um. Yeah. [ Lockne almost cringes at the disappointment in her own voice. She reassures herself that it probably wasn't that obvious. It was totally obvious, Målingen objects cheerfully, though, and Lockne strongly imagines pushing her sister off a cliff. Thankfully, just because her twin knows her inside and out doesn't necessarily mean Fragile does.

Anyway, in truth, she's more disappointed than she would like. But really... it's probably just because it's been so long for her without human contact. Right? Right.

That silent self-assurance though doesn't have Lockne taking any steps back from the other woman. Instead, she offers Fragile a small smile, one that's a little too shaky for her own liking. ] Me too. I was worried I'd be stuck here all day. [ Mountain Knot may see a lot more activity nowadays than it did before Sam joined them to the UCA, but it's still far from being a bustling spot of activity, and sometimes a day or more passes between visits from porters and other "outsiders". ] Guess I lucked out.

[ In more ways than one. At least Målingen is polite enough to say it privately, although her smugness makes Lockne wrinkle her nose. ] My sister's very proud of herself right now. [ It's said with a slight roll of her eyes, a laugh on her lips.

But she still doesn't step back. ]

[ There's a quiver to Lockne's smile that's curious, to her--perhaps it's that she's feeling uncertain about having locked lips with a woman; Fragile can understand that sort of feeling. In a world that feels so drastically different, so out of control from what they used to live in and experience, even more changes could be overwhelming, enough to push someone over the edge into self doubt and wonder. She doesn't want to be the person to cause Lockne that kind of crisis; she doesn't want to cause trouble again under the guise of being ignorantly well-meaning.

So she smooths her hands down along that peculiar fabric, rubbing at Lockne's shoulders like she's working the wrinkles out of her jacket. It's nice to feel a person, beneath her touch--not the cool handle of a briefcase, or the worn rod of her umbrella.

And she laughs, amused, and winks at Lockne--no, that one is meant for Mama.]

Well, if you find yourself trapped again, I would happily return to get you out of it. [ Neither of them are taking any steps away--but Fragile does let her hands drop, at least for now.] Or maybe I'll pretend to get stuck at the next terminal. I have another delivery, for tonight.

[ Fragile's words give her a weird kind of hope, and Lockne finds herself smiling, this time with less of that anxious quiver, something more genuine. You like her, Målingen sing-songs in her mind, and she wants to argue, to tell her sister that they're still really just getting to know each other, more acquaintances than they are friends, that scientifically, liking her this soon doesn't make any sense... but she knows that Målingen already knows all of that.

Plus, she knows that those excuses don't really wash. Attraction can't be quantified by the length of time two people have known by one another. ]

Don't tempt me, okay? I'll pretend I'm stuck here so often you'll end up having to set up Fragile Express headquarters here.

[ Oh my God, Lockne, you are so bad at flirting.

Despite the wandering thought - both of theirs more than one - she drops her own hand too from where her fingers were wrapped around Fragile's forearm. Bad, but not too bad for a woman who willingly secluded herself for so long. Plus, it lets Fragile know that she would - happily - kiss her again. ]

[ To her benefit, Fragile does laugh at that--something soft and almost tinkling, like bells chiming above a shop door. It's a curious thing, to be around Lockne; it's easy enough to tell when her voice changes, though she hadn't spent too much time personally around Mama before everything happened with Sam's journey, and yet there are still parts of her that wonders where one of them ends and the other begins. She supposes that's sort of the point: they're so interlocked that it's hard to be involved with one without being involved with the other.

It's something to think over, on her next trip. Lockne has given her a lot to think about, and for someone who spends the majority of her time locked in her thoughts while making deliveries, she's grateful for the entertainment of something new to toy with.

Maybe she will come back later. To see if Lockne really pretends to be stuck there, later. Maybe she will ask one of the boys to give her the researcher's whereabouts when she's free. Maybe she'll be popping up so frequently in Lockne's radar that she'll have to give it some sort of consideration.

Fragile smiles, almost grins.]

I wouldn't mind that, you know. Having more excuses to see you.

[ She takes a step away so that she can bend, slightly, and pick up her own personal case, and the umbrella folded gently atop it.]

For now, do you think you can handle missing me?

[ It's everything Locke can do not to blush. For a moment she even forgets to respond to Fragile, busy as she is trying to prevent the rise of red on her cheeks. In the end, though, she manages to offer the other woman a grin of her own, all too aware of her pulse pounding in her ears, so loud that she wonders, self-conscious and entirely illogical, if Fragile can hear it too.

See, sis? I'm not that bad, she claims, even knowing that Målingen can hear all of the worries and concerns in her mind.

Målingen laughs, though. Lockne can feel her smiling from ear to ear; her plans for her sister have fallen perfectly into place, at least for now. The chiral mistletoe trap, according to her, was designed to work only once, so now it can just stay there as decoration, but the scientist really is tempted to get herself "stuck" again later. If it means another of those kisses... ]

I wouldn't mind it either. [ Her tone is as relaxed as she can make it while trying to flirt at the same time. (That said, she's going to collapse when Fragile leaves. She's so out of practice...) ] More excuses, that is. Missing you is something I guess I'll just have to deal with. Right?

Edited 2020-02-10 09:39 (UTC)

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pucker up

okay this is officially ridiculous

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