Ilsa Higa, M.D. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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mayfield_rpg2012-10-23 12:12 am
ooeeooahah) wrote in mayfield_rpg2012-10-23 12:12 am
Entry tags:
Between the idea And the reality
[ Introspection: 1490 Kramden Road, Sunday ]
[ Ilsa has been off-balance. ]
[ Sunday morning, the voice without apparent source was unsettling enough. She transcribed the message, and added it to her research file. The implications that Zemekis was willing to suppress their pasts to make them happy here made her shiver... and collect some of the kids’ school supplies to write down as much as possible of her history before Mayfield. ]
[ With no idea how much time she has, she starts with a timeline of her life, hitting the highlights first. Then she writes the stories for the points on the timeline. As she finishes each of the stories of her past, she fills in another point or two on the timeline, and writes the stories attached to those points. ]
[ She writes until evening falls, and takes a break to cook, whether the drones in the house will eat what she prepares or not. Eighteen months, and she still is not able to shake the horrid feeling she has around the drones - it is much worse any time she has to deal with Egon’s drone. ]
[ By the time dinner is done, and the kitchen is buttoned up again, she is tired, and beginning to get a headache... even a place as wonderful as Mayfield, headaches happen. ]
[ She stops, frozen in her tracks, at that thought. ]
[ Ilsa is confused, momentarily in two worlds at once, before the Mayfield Ilsa’s memories crash over her. High school, being courted by Egon, the children, the cooling of her marriage, her sister’s divorce, her own affair with one of the lawyers in the office - it all falls into place suddenly. ]
[ But it still feels subtly wrong. ]
[ Action/Phone: MacCready & Sons Law Office, Monday Morning ]
[ Ilsa is still dealing with a headache, but she is at work, like a trouper. Answering the phones, typing the depositions, filing the reports - and finding clues that the Mayfield she remembers may not be the Mayfield she has experienced. ]
[ The typed reports can be dismissed as some crank who sees aliens in the sky and monsters in the lake, but finding the ones in her handwriting are harder to dismiss. Especially with the notes she found in her purse. A guide to surviving a horrible and evil place, nothing at all like Mayfield, but it is Mayfield... and there is another wave of pain. ]
[ Still, she has to be the face and voice of the law office when she is on the front desk, greeting all callers and visitors impartially and cheerfully, though something has also possessed her to quit smoking today. The dish of butterscotch candies on her desk is already half-gone by mid-morning. ]
[[ OOC: Ilsa will be trying to fight the memories that Mayfield has imposed on her. She has a strong will, but the headaches are severe. Feel free to call or visit either day. ]]
[ Ilsa has been off-balance. ]
[ Sunday morning, the voice without apparent source was unsettling enough. She transcribed the message, and added it to her research file. The implications that Zemekis was willing to suppress their pasts to make them happy here made her shiver... and collect some of the kids’ school supplies to write down as much as possible of her history before Mayfield. ]
[ With no idea how much time she has, she starts with a timeline of her life, hitting the highlights first. Then she writes the stories for the points on the timeline. As she finishes each of the stories of her past, she fills in another point or two on the timeline, and writes the stories attached to those points. ]
[ She writes until evening falls, and takes a break to cook, whether the drones in the house will eat what she prepares or not. Eighteen months, and she still is not able to shake the horrid feeling she has around the drones - it is much worse any time she has to deal with Egon’s drone. ]
[ By the time dinner is done, and the kitchen is buttoned up again, she is tired, and beginning to get a headache... even a place as wonderful as Mayfield, headaches happen. ]
[ She stops, frozen in her tracks, at that thought. ]
[ Ilsa is confused, momentarily in two worlds at once, before the Mayfield Ilsa’s memories crash over her. High school, being courted by Egon, the children, the cooling of her marriage, her sister’s divorce, her own affair with one of the lawyers in the office - it all falls into place suddenly. ]
[ But it still feels subtly wrong. ]
[ Action/Phone: MacCready & Sons Law Office, Monday Morning ]
[ Ilsa is still dealing with a headache, but she is at work, like a trouper. Answering the phones, typing the depositions, filing the reports - and finding clues that the Mayfield she remembers may not be the Mayfield she has experienced. ]
[ The typed reports can be dismissed as some crank who sees aliens in the sky and monsters in the lake, but finding the ones in her handwriting are harder to dismiss. Especially with the notes she found in her purse. A guide to surviving a horrible and evil place, nothing at all like Mayfield, but it is Mayfield... and there is another wave of pain. ]
[ Still, she has to be the face and voice of the law office when she is on the front desk, greeting all callers and visitors impartially and cheerfully, though something has also possessed her to quit smoking today. The dish of butterscotch candies on her desk is already half-gone by mid-morning. ]
[[ OOC: Ilsa will be trying to fight the memories that Mayfield has imposed on her. She has a strong will, but the headaches are severe. Feel free to call or visit either day. ]]
Sunday
Also, a nice bottle of white wine along with her. She rings the doorbell, and waits patiently for her friend to answer.]
Re: Sunday
Oh, please come in!
[ She tactfully does not comment on her friend's late hours, as is habit between them. ]
no subject
[It was such a pity that Natalie had a terrible skin condition, and needed to stay out of the sun. It had developed after high school, and perhaps it hemmed the younger woman's life in a little.... but her real friends stood by her. Like Ilsa, who was always happy to make time, no matter how late!]
It was a quiet night and I thought, why not come and pay a visit? Ah, and I brought us a little something!
[When her voice goes sing-song at the last bit, it's playful. The bottle of wine is held up, and then offered with a smile.]
no subject
[ Ilsa's eyes cut sideways, in the direction of the garage, and she puts a finger over her lips. ]
Come on, let's go downstairs, where they won't bother us.
[ The unspoken avoidance of her husband hangs over the statement. ]
no subject
[Natalie nods in understanding. This is a girl's night. Especially considering... things. With her husband. Almost impossibly quietly, she follows Ilsa downstairs.]
no subject
Oh, sorry for the mess, I suppose I was... working on something.
[ What could she be working on, timelines and such, she has not the faintest idea, but she puts the papers away to clear space on the coffee table. Glasses are also down here for the usual Girls' Nights. ]
How is Keith?
no subject
[She navigates about with grace... and with a hint of curiosity. One of the papers is plucked from the table, and it simply seems to vanish. Poof, gone, as far as Ilsa can tell. Unless Ilsa is good at subconsciously piercing illusions.]
...Keith's fine! Never better. He's so dedicated to his work, and he spends so much time with the children. Who could ask for more?
no subject
You two work well together.
[ There's a small sigh, as she produces the glasses and corkscrew. ]
no subject
We're a good match, aren't we? I'm so lucky to have him. I really am...
[...but she shouldn't brag. She shouldn't gush. Not while Ilsa has... complications with her own relationships. So she ventures, carefully,]
...how's work?
no subject
[ She shrugs as she hands her friend a glass and settles back on the couch. ]
It gets me out of the house, provides money for my needs so he doesn't complain about my bills, and I get to have contact with people who appreciate that I can think for myself.
[ Ilsa takes a small sip of wine. ]
no subject
But things are so nice. It shouldn't matter. She smiles again, and takes the offered glass of wine.]
You make me a little jealous, with your job and your own money... I hope you don't mind if I live vicarously through you? Just a little?
[She laughs, then has a sip of her own wine... then coughs, brings a hand to her mouth, eyes going wide. Wait, no, why did she do that? She can't digest food, not anymore, not...
She sets the wine glass down, and starts to fumble about one-handedly for a tissue. The other is still clapped over her mouth.]
no subject
Natalie, no!
[ ...before the pain rolls in. Ilsa fights it for a moment. ]
How long... since you last...?
no subject
I'm... it's alright! It's alright...
[She's quick to declare it when she sees Ilsa in pain. But her eyes narrow, still fixed on her friend, as she dabs at her mouth and coughs again. So it hurts Ilsa to think too, does it?
Another tissue is snatched, and the cleanup continues. When she speaks again, it's soft and strained.]
...two days. Until I was full. So I'm fine for now.
no subject
I... can't help this... blocked...
[ The nosebleed starts, and Ilsa sags against the back of the couch. ]
I-It's... maybe the wine... has gone off...
[ Definitely confused, more so when she find she has a nosebleed. ]
no subject
[She hisses, crumples the tissues in one hand, then tosses them aside. She grabs for another handful, but instead moves forward to dab at Ilsa's nose and put a cool hand on her shoulder. She's not going to fight it, not right now, not when Ilsa's having a much worse time of it.]
Shh, no, I'm just a little delicate, that's all. You know that, right? I was feeling bold tonight. I'll be okay... and you can have the bottle to yourself!
[It's an unusually sweet tone for Natalie to be taking. Sweet is so much easier than honest.]
no subject
[ She is confused, in pain, and generally feeling helpless, which sparks an odd sullen anger, buried very deep. ]
Is there anything I can do to help?
[ Even with Mayfield's tampering, it is still Ilsa's main worry. ]
no subject
[She settles herself down beside Ilsa, still smiling, still letting Mayfield write the script for now.]
Well, if you could make sure that you don't tell Keith about this, it would be a start...
no subject
[ She doesn't pick up her glass, or offer anything else at the moment, as the "delicate constitution" fiction has taken hold. ]
no subject
[There, and Ilsa's put at ease. Somewhat. She thinks. Her smile falters, as she tries to think again. And even through the discomfort of doing so, something strikes her as funny.]
...we're finally sitting down and chatting like girlfriends, aren't we? And all it took was... ahahah, I'll stop, I'll stop, I'm sorry, I shouldn't...
no subject
Always so reticent, to protect yourself.
[ A small wince, and she shakes her head. ]
Good thing you attracted someone who could help protect you.
no subject
[And let the "here" go unspoken. Mayfield? Next to Ilsa? Yes. Okay.]
It is lucky, isn't it?
no subject
yes...
[ She turns to Natalie. ]
If you live vicariously through me for my work-life, I do the same for yours... at least you can talk to Keith.
no subject
[She smiles sympathetically, and no amount sadly. It was such a pity, Ilsa's troubles with Egon and Tarvek.]
no subject
[ She is smiling, but it looks painful, and she is shaking. ]
Natalie, we have to... plan for Halloween.
[ Ilsa is shaking her head, and beginning to have another nosebleed. ]
oh, gods...
no subject
We do! I haven't even settled on costumes for the...
No...
[And she leans in and lowers her voice to a whisper, as though that might help escape the notice of whatever's trying to make their heads explode.]
I'll go home. Don't try to fight it now. We'll have our chance. I know it.
no subject
Rest - you too, because we both need it.
[ The scent of roses in a crypt is actually comforting to Ilsa. ]
no subject
...yes. We both do. We very much do.
no subject
Do you need me to drive you to your house? I won't tell Keith, but I still worry.
no subject
No, I'll be alright. Doctor Date wants me to get some walking in, when I can. I'll be fine.
no subject
[ Ilsa will walk with her to the door, and maybe farther. ]
At least it isn't too cold.