deerfeed | [video] un: eleven

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[video] un: eleven

[ The video clicks on to a young girl, perhaps 14 years. Her round eyes look a little unsure, brows drawn together in concentration as she figures out how to work this new tablet machine with the stupid name - it's not liquid. She's learned how to operate the application tools back in Beacon, so it's a transition rather than a completely new skill.

Eleven sits cross legged on her bed, half cast in the light of the strange lantern sitting right next to her. She sets the Fluid down on the nightstand, then briefly leans out of frame and picks something up that looks like a beak shaped, half plague doctor mask, distractedly scratching at her neck, where healed scars looks as though something once grabbed her by the neck. Finally, she stops fidgeting and looks at the camera. ]

Hi.

[ She speaks with a pattern that might strike as odd. Sometimes halting in odd places, or saying words slowly, as if she has to place them on her tongue very deliberately. ]

Is there an angel? Here? I need a... miracle. Or maybe. Someone old, with magic?

[ She glances down at the mask, worries her lower lip between her teeth, then adds: ]

There's something in here. It smells like... where I'm from. Home. It's fading. I lost my friend who did the... miracle. So it's fading. But it's important. [ She swallows, lips pursed. ] To me.

[ The things unsaid sit deep in her chest and ache - the home she lost months ago. The friends she lost along the way. A short, deep breath, she gathers herself, serious face relaxing into something softer, but still somber. ]

I can pay. With glitter pens. Or birds, if you have paper.

[Another small pause. She's about to reach out and shut the video off, when she remembers lessons learned. Right - manners. Or the attempt at them. ]

Thanks.

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[ The girl in the video is about El's age, looking extremely pale and not very well right now, and also filming from a bed. It's. Actually right down the hall from Eleven's room, but... details. ]

You're Mike's friend, right?

[ Videochatting while existing in the same house - good on Brianna for welcoming this 80s child into the modern day and age.

Eleven squints at the screen slightly. ]

Yes... who are you?

[ Well, she would have immediately crashed through Eleven's door to welcome her, but she's currently recuperating from being dead and can barely move, so Eleven gets off easy this time. ]

Brianna. Or Breeze. I live with Mike and Will.

Why do you need a miracle? Did something happen?

[ A beat. ]

Are you... ok?

i got magic, and i like glitter. what do you need?

Hello.

[...yes, he does raise a hand in greeting to go with that]

Why do you need an angel?

[The camera shakes and jitters at first, showing a brick alleyway and a grey sky until Mike can get it focused on his face. Ever since he's learned to text, he's vastly preferred that to showing his face. He'll make an exception for friends, though, even if he is wearing his stupid Peter's Pizza shirt and cap.]

Is that, uh, from Beacon? [In regards to the mask. A stupid question, maybe, but he has nothing but questions about Beacon.] What's it for?

Edited 2020-11-10 00:44 (UTC)

[ At this, Eleven's face scrunches up, trying to puzzle out why they're having the conversation like this, when Brianna is sitting on a bed. She remembers the name - Will has mentioned her. ]

Are you. In the house?

[ People who live together usually just yell through several closed doors. Eleven knows this, of course. It's a rule - one of the secret ones you're not allowed to say anything about, because it's unspoken. ]

For the magic.

[ She raises up the plague doctor mask. ]

It makes the scent stay. I'm ok.

[ A pause, Eleven looks puzzled. ]

Are you?

[ This is promising. It's a lady who likes glitter, which makes Eleven feel she has good taste. And she also is a leader. ]

my friend made the scent in the mask last for a long time but its fading now

can you make it last again

[ Eleven looks into the camera a little doubtfully, then mirrors the gesture - exactly the way Jack does. ]

Hi.

[ She already said that, didn't she? ]

For the. Miracle.

[ She doesn't look as if she knows what a miracle is. ]

To make the smell last. It's almost... gone.

[ Eleven doesn't always like talking about Beacon - it's not because she doesn't want to tell Mike. She wants to tell him everything. But it hurts, for the things that happened in the dark, and for the people whom she loved and lost.

It's okay. She can hurt for Mike. ]

Yes. It's... It was for the dead body flowers. [ Corpse flowers, but sure thing, she makes it sound a lot more creepy on sheer accident. ] You wear it, and you don't smell the stink. Mine is. Forest. Cabin. Blankets. Fireplace. [ Hopper's cabin. Home. ] It's. Fading. [ There's an ache in her eyes that she can't quite hide, not when talking to Mike. Not when talking about home. Still, she smiles a little smile. It's fond. It's brave. ] Pizza?

Um. Yeah.

[ Brianna is generally not a self-conscious person, but even she's a little embarrassed by the situation they find themselves in. ]

I would have just come and talked to you in person but I'm sick... so I can't really get out of bed. [ Which really sucks. She feels like a fainting Victorian lady. ]

Oh.

[ Eleven doesn't know how to make friends. It's not a skill she's ever really had to develope.

She is, however, pretty good at finding them. Which means she has to lookfor Brianna. Obviously. ]

Can I come?

Yeah... sure. I'm in the room above the garage. Um, don't worry, I won't get you sick or anything. It's not contagious.

Keep praying for that miracle, chick-a-dee. You're in Maine which is a slightly worse version of Hell. The only God who gives a fuck here is Stephen King and he's short out of pity for kids. Trust me.

(That was.....just a lot, Eddie.)

There's the turtle too, I guess, but Maturin's probably dead now.

(....You just sound high, Eddie! Which to be fair, he's definitely completely not himself right now.)

What kind of magic exactly are you talking?

[Dead body flowers. That's... Okay, he wants to ask more, but he gets the sense that she's trying to forcing her way through something she isn't comfortable talking about. Not wanting to cause her anymore pain, he puts on a smile and goes with the topic change.]

Yeah. I work at a restaurant. [He turns the camera around, and focuses it on a stack of discarded pizza boxes he's put out for trash, bearing the official logo. Graphic design is clearly someone's passion.] Technically I'm the Assistant [Assistant] Manager, but I just do delivery most of the time.

Hey.

[The words are strange, sure. They don't make a whole lot of sense off the bat, but - far be it from him to ignore a kid asking for assistance on the network.]

Can you tell us what's in the mask? Maybe that can help someone find what you're looking for.

[ That's such a loaded question Eleven has asked and she doesn't even know. But this isn't about her and so Jean just smiles with a bit of a nod. ]

Yeah- I mean. About as ok as one can be when you find yourself here.

[ Or... here again. Different. ]

I uh... I don't know any angels. Well- not here and not with like fluffy white wings and golden halos or anything. But I know a psychic? If that helps.

... I'm sorry, kiddo, but I'm no good at miracles and magic. [Yes, all children he meets are 'kiddo', you have to endure it. He looks pleasant, though! A bit tired in the eyes, but they're warm and friendly as ever. He sits at some diner booth as he talks, enjoying a cup of coffee.] I'm sure there's someone around here who could do it, though. Just keep an ear out.

... You ever wonder how smell works, though? I mean, what it's made out of. Do you ever stop and wonder what the heck's traveling from the flower to your nose, to give you that smell?

[Hey, he can't help, but he sure can chat.]

Edited 2020-11-10 07:29 (UTC)

[someone's finally greeted him the same way. she's his new favorite]

The Bible says that it's not just angels that perform miracles. But I...don't know if that's true or not.

[or if preserving a smell is something they'd do]

I can ask my- I can ask Castiel. He might know.

How do you make birds out of paper? [Clearly the important part of her message.]

[Someone old, with magic, huh. He sure does...happen to know someone who fits that bill. Whether or not said old wizard would be willing to help is another matter, though. But it doesn't hurt to get some more information before testing those waters.]

What did you need, exactly? With the magic.

Edited 2020-11-10 14:09 (UTC)

[ Abandoning the video chat, Eleven slips the fluid back onto her thin wrist, and makes her way to the extra room - she's learned from Max that it's important to have friends outside of Mike and the boys. And she's learned with Max that any friend of Mike's should be a friend of hers, not an enemy.

Unless they're stupid.

There's no knock, because sometimes Eleven just has neither manners nor respect for boundaries. At least this time she's been invited. She comes over to Brianna's room with the lantern once more firmly clipped to her belt, casting a strange purple shine into the room. ]

.... Hi.

What's a... psychic?

[ Eleven frowns a little, not in suspicion just in the way of a serious child trying to puzzle something out. ]

It's not nice here, is it?

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