[ The camera is on the edge of a sink, pointed up towards a mirror which leaves Carla's hands free as she slowly runs a comb through long black hair. She's in the process of getting ready, in simple black underwear. She's... an attractive woman, but a little too thin and her skin bears too much of her self-hate. There are also some very large tattoos. A serpent with its tail at her knee, wound around her leg and its head at her stomach. When she turns away from the mirror, the inked spine up her back shows. There is apparently a new piece however, wrapped in gauze around her other thigh, large judging from the amount. ]

It's my birthday.

[ She states this while pulling on a simple red dress, sleeveless with buttons up the center. The pair of dog tattoos may be obvious as she fiddles the garment closed. She cleans up well. ]

Someone needs to take me to dinner.

[ Stated without a shred of shame. She also doesn't seem particularly... excited about the prospect of a birthday dinner either. Her brown eyes never really lift to try to make eye contact with the camera. And not with herself in the mirror either. ]

( but how do I know if I'll make it through?  )

( ooc: so Bucky's been memory theatre'd with a deleted scene from captain america: the first avenger. please start at 00.23 and ignore the hideous non-cg'd tank at the end, merci. )

[ VOICE ]

[The feed clicks on with a long moment of silence. Contemplative silence; or really, resisting silence. But the curse wins out.

They always do.]

I don't wanna talk about dying. Don't wanna think about it, either, but I do. Not all the time but more than I want. Knowing how you're gonna go doesn't make it easier; and I dunno when, just whenever this place is done. Nothing strange there, I guess, except I got used to not worrying about it. Life's a bitch and then you don't die, Ed said. He's the only one I ever knew who it bothered.

Knowing why helps a little, doesn't mean I'm not till fucking terrified. You'd think maybe it wouldn't be scary, knowing how, but it just means I know it's gonna hurt. Not a thing to change that. Doesn't help knowing it's a good cause.

[There's a long pause.]

The first time-- when I died, I mean-- it hurt like fuck but it wasn't so bad, or maybe it's just you forget after a while. Everything gets a little numb. Had ten years of that. But it was easier-- I mean, I knew I'd come out the other side anyway, wasn't the same as this. Everyone told you it'd hurt but not how bad-- didn't wanna scare me off, maybe. Getting bit wasn't the bad part, at least not for me. Not when I knew it was coming. Knew the girl, even. But after-- you lose enough blood and your body starts to panic even if you didn't mean it. And once you're infected that's it. That's what hurts.

Coming back was just as bad. Fuck, and I had it easy. I'm the only one who didn't fucking light myself on fire.

[Another pause.]

I'm gonna be torn to shreds when I go. There's your fucking story, City. That's all I got.

[This one's coming out to you from the dining table at the Cathedral rectory, where a black-robed Doctor Father Robert Chase adjusts his dog collar and sips delicately from a floral mug of tea.]

Not to sound like anyone's schoolteacher, but there's no reason to wait for high days and holidays to show up for Mass. The congregation at this morning's service was looking a little thin. Everyone's welcome, I for one would love to see a few new faces coming into the fold.

And, to sound exactly like someone's schoolteacher, cachetism, Latin and Greek classes start up again for the new term from this afternoon. In the Vestry as usual, after confession hours.

Finally, Miss Mac Cionaoith assures me the High Tea she's laying on for us this afternoon will be enough to feed the five thousand and I can vouch highly for her cucumber sandwiches. There's food and company for residents new and old, and a guarantee of no preaching at the table. Though I thought we might discuss plans for this fall's Harvest Festival. How about a pageant? There are some old costumes in the storage room, if anyone wants to find a reason to dress as a ham.



[ooc: Road Not Taken: Chase didn't drop out of seminary and was ordained as a priest.]

[ Accidental Audio; ]

--course I asked myself why you never came to visit. People do, here, even-- well, you know.

[A pause.]

I know, and that's what I told myself. Which is probably why you're telling me, since I doubt you're really here.

[Another listening pause, and she laughs. Softly, sadly.]

I suppose not. But if you were, maybe I wouldn't have to second-guess myself.

[She lets out a breath, not quite a sigh.]

I am glad to see you. Or to imagine I'm seeing you, if that's all this is.

[A longer pause, and then quieter-- lower in pitch, too, that soft nostalgia failing--]

I know. I know.

[And, fortunately for Cameron, that's where the recording times out.]

[Video]
[Solomon's hand withdraws from activating his network device and he gives whatever audience he has a hesitant smile.]

My brother wishes for me to make new friends. It isn't as if I haven't made any in the past, I've had some very good ones. It's just that they leave so quickly...

Still, I suppose I should get back into the practice of it, and it is what Nathan wishes. So would anyone care to join me for some tea and conversation?


[ooc: Solomon has the joy of being cursed with 'I Cannot Tell a Lie'. What better way to start or discourage a friendship than with open disclosure?]