poly_chromatic | 018 x 810 // video // april showers

[Settled back on her couch, Carla is fussing with a split lip with her tongue absentmindedly and shuffling through a series of photos like it's a hand of cards.]

I've got a Rosella barbecue, a cowboy with a gun in his eye, a few pairs of little boys getting up close and personal with each other, practically autoerotic. And... [She holds up a picture of M. Eames.] On a scale of 1 to 7, where are we going with this?

[She clearly hasn't accounted for all the pictures she was holding, but she puts the rest aside, moving on to another set.]

The rest are mine. [She holds one up briefly.] I haven't seen some of these in over half a decade. [She doesn't sound entirely pleased about that, and sits back again with a frown to look through them.] They've got a date with my garbage disposal.

[As one last distracted note she adds,] I didn't pick up anything of yours this time, Rapahel, I'm disappointed.

//private to 'the lady of lannister'

[She displays the picture she's found.]

Do you want it? Or should I add it to the pile to be disposed of?

[[ooc; Here is what's up for grabs if you want it.]]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Estelle sounds a little flat when she speaks. The last time she spoke with Carla, they got into a bit of a tiff, yet something about the woman still draws Estelle towards her.]

You were really pretty... [A beat.] You're still really pretty...

[With a sigh, she just ends it there, making it known that Carla has no obligation to reply if she doesn't want to. She just wanted to say that to her.]

[Honestly, most of the time Carla doesn't know what it is about Estelle that draws her back either. But then, of course she does. She digs back through for the polaroid, holding it up. There's something sharp and agitated in the motion, but when she speaks her voice is more flat than anything else; a coping mechanism with the topic at hand.]

He liked to document things. [She is dead in that faded polaroid. The warm tone from the bad film hides it, and it had been early on in her confinement, before all her weight dropped away, but her expression tells the story, sullen mouth and eyes.] He had books and drawers full of pictures and recordings of me.

You told me about this person before, right? If I recall correctly, you said he was an artist.

[Estelle remembers little details that Carla had told her about her past, even if it wasn't much that she was told. Though she does note that agitation in the way she holds the picture up, giving the hint that she's treading on thin ice. She needs to be careful with how much she can pry into this.]

That's right.

[There's a faint tremor in her hand, not agitation, just something caused by the articulation of her fingers needed to pinch the picture between them. She begins to turn the card over in her hands, just so it isn't so obvious.]

He had a wall of pictures, like this for, for his other dolls.

So... you weren't the only one?

[She has to wonder what it was like to live with someone like that, who considered themself an artist with people as his project. She's seen people be used and abused for others' gain, either in financial ways or power, but never for something like that...]

I was the only one that lived with him.

[Her lip curls slightly. She hates herself for taking pride in that.]

You were his most prized, then?

[She intentionally leaves out 'work' or 'person' after she says 'prized'. This has to be a touchy subject, but at the same time, she feels like she's learning so much about her now.]

I was, and he couldn't let it go.

[He had put too much of himself into her to let her rest, even as she lost her mind and was consumed by misery.]

I take it you tried to leave multiple times...

[She's guessing at this point now, and well, she'll see where this takes her.]

[Mr. Blonde is lying on the floor with the dog listening to this, and he would understand the hows and whys of it better than Estelle. As it is, however, Carla isn't interested in explaining that if she had gone out on the street she'd have been executed by the CDC or the Angels within a few days, if she even made it that long. She wanted death, but she wanted it from Barbet.]

There was nowhere to go.

I see...

[It's true for her as well, that back home if she didn't have Yuri, she would have been captured and forced to return to the castle. Staying on her journey as long as possible was selfish, but she loved it. She still loves it.]

018 x 810 // video // april showers

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