( open )

[araneidal]

Who: Natasha Romanoff & you.
Where: Kitchen, library, and around the mansion.
When: September 7th.
Rating: PG
Summary: much stealth. very spy.
Notes: I wrote in brackets but prose is more than welcome. Starters in comments.

Comments

[donotcallmethis]

[Food is very important for Helena. That she has access to so much, first of all. She doesn't appear to notice or care about anyone else. She sits on the counter eating cookies straight out of the box, not bothering with something so trivial as a plate.

But she does notice. She notices things.]

Any knife is good knife if you do it right way.

[araneidal]

[ Helena might've been perfectly content to sit by herself this entire time, but Natasha hasn't turned her back to her since the moment she arrived. It's the keen way she's aware of becoming the object of Helena's peripheral gaze, zeroed in upon like a mouse on a field ready to be picked off by a hawk. ]

[ She doesn't retort. She does, however, turn fully towards Helena and hold out the knife for her. ]

Show me.

[donotcallmethis]

[Helena shrugs and puts down the cookies. And then, mouth still full, she takes the knife. Facing the wall where no doors are (she will not be responsible for accidentally killing a person), she throws the knife with force, just a simple steak knife, and it lodges in the wall.

And then, that done, she simply sits on the counter again.]

See? It is simple.

[araneidal]

[ She's not looking at the effortless flick of Helena's wrist as she throws the knife, but at her feet, and the outline of her body as the movement creases her clothes. The shift of Helena's weight in the room, the ripple of innate power, the way the air charges with something fluid and electric, cut instantly by the sound of the knife hitting wood. Like a wolf and an angel have met and danced often in Helena. ]

[ Natasha has seen echoes of this, in one other. ]

It is.

[ Throwing a knife. Hitting a target. Using yourself as a weapon. ]

Who taught you?

[ The real question is: were you made? ]

[donotcallmethis]

[Helena answers that question, the last one anyway, right off the b at, the same as she's always answered it.]

I was made to be this way.

[Said as she stuffs cookies in her mouth. She eats as if someone will take it away, and is eating the entire box in one sitting because if she doesn't, someone will take what's left. That's what she knows from life.]

You are interested in what I did. You know knives.

[Said matter of factly. Helena knows, saw, and realized that the knife throw itself wasn't the important part of the demonstration.]

[araneidal]

Yes.

[ She knows knives. She knows little girls made to be monsters, of which she has to be the most terrifying one. Because that's what she knows of life: demons only fear other, crueller demons. None of them know to fear compassion. ]

[ Somewhere in the universe, there is another Red Room, which made Helena, or others like her. Natasha picks up the knife, and she mimics Helena's throw perfectly, retrieving it when it sticks in the wood, and placing it on the table in front of Helena. Nothing like good faith or trust — but recognition. ]

Natasha. I'm new.

[donotcallmethis]

[That gets Helena's attention, and she looks down at the knife, putting the cookie box down to look at Natasha.]

I am Helena. Not so new. But only a couple of months now.

[She is not a sestra, but she could know something, and Helena slides off of the counter to look at her fully.]

You work for who?

[araneidal]

I'm an Avenger.

[ The Avengers serve the higher cause. She's with them, but she answers only to whom she chooses. But most importantly, ]

Are you free?

[donotcallmethis]

Now, yes. Yes my sestra saved me.

[They tried to kill each other a few times, before Helena knew she could be free.]

I was told I was an angel. Avenging Angel.

[araneidal]

[ Natasha's expression softens, relief creases the line of her mouth. Freedom is sometimes harder to stomach than being caged, but it's a step. ]

I believe it. [ a beat, and she adds, ] Do you feel safe, here?

[donotcallmethis]

[Well, that's a loaded question. Helena looks around as she thinks of her words.]

It is false sense of safety, here. There are days to be safe. But more that are dangerous.

You are very new, then.

[Because there's new, and there's so new that you have been through no events.]

[araneidal]

Yes.

[ But not so new that she doesn't have some idea, and, ]

Not so dangerous that you can't survive.

[ Helena seems... fine, for a given definition. ]

[donotcallmethis]

People die. But Wonderland brings you back.

[She holds up her hand, all five fingers.]

No more times than this. They tell me it is bad if you die more than five times.

[araneidal]

I've been told the same. If this was a dream —

[ You wake up, when you die in dreams. ]

What do they need us for, do you think?

[donotcallmethis]

[Helena shrugs just a little, picking up her box of cookies again.]

Memories. This is all that makes sense. Wonderland survives on other's memories. It is why things happen from worlds we do not know. It is someone else's life.

[araneidal]

[ Brainwashing holds little terror for Natasha. Meh. She can step out of her head if she needs to, absorb whatever pieces are left after the flood. She's always been fragments, it's just a question of having more to draw from than less. ]

Who have they made you be?

[donotcallmethis]

I have been lucky here. Nothing has changed me yet, but it is an inevitable thing. One day, I know. My time will come.

[And then she'll be something. She doesn't want to be something anymore, though. All that she can do is try to keep it from happening.]

[araneidal]

We should help each other.

[ Like it's an expectation, instead of a desire. Natasha doesn't want to see this woman hurt more, when she's had to walk free. ]

It will happen to us both.

[donotcallmethis]

And how can we do this, the two of us?

[She's listening, ready to consider what is being proposed to her.]

[araneidal]

I'm not sure yet.

[ Natasha thumbs at her cheek. ]

You know better than me what to expect. All I know is that I don't want to be made a slave again, but this place doesn't care about that.

[donotcallmethis]

No. This place will not care what you think. Not ever. About anything. So you must have people to trust, if you wish to be successful in this.

[They would have to trust each other, is the point, if they are to help each other.]

[araneidal]

[ Natasha tilts her head, and something lurks in her tone as she asks, ]

So do you trust me, Helena?

[donotcallmethis]

I do not know you.

[A knife throw and conversation while she eats a box of cookies does not trust make.]

But I can give you chance just as you will give me one. Only one.

[She has a feeling Natasha is going to understand.]

[araneidal]

[ Natasha nods, and almost-smiles. Right answer. ]

Only one.

[ It's also more than fair. ]

[donotcallmethis]

We will see what happens, then. And if there is trust, I will tell you others to also trust. Good people I have come to know.

[But just in case, she won't be doing any introductions yet.]