Elsa Copland

Nothing to See Here  | Elsa & Orson

[He shrugs a little at her question.] Uh, I mean. Maybe lost civilization in the way that it’s the apocalypse and so everything is lost. But I don’t know. Maybe… 50, 100 years? [Another shrug.] Or I’m making a fool out of myself and I’m totally wrong. Good thing you can’t see, so you have no way of knowing if I’m an idiot or not, [he jokes gently.] 

[And considering Orson is the one who can actually see, it’s sort of illuminating how quickly she wanders over to where she’s pretty sure it should be—her sense of direction must be excellent, having to navigate the world the way she does—not to mention, her sheer sense of will. No problem is one you can’t solve, because she’s solving problems every minute of everyday. She’s used to it by now. 

He wonders if it makes other people’s complaining about certain things sound super petty and annoying to her. Probably. That’s probably why she’s so quietly sarcastic all the time. 

He grins privately at the thought, then makes his way over to her, scanning the ground. 

It doesn’t take long—there, at her feet, just a little ways away, he sees a long, straight object—not as long as he’s expecting, but it still looks like it hadn’t been there five minutes ago—just resting atop the ground, not nearly dirty enough to have been there long. He frowns, reaching for it.] 

Oh, is this it? [As he gets it in his hand, he knows the answer to his own question—he can see the hinges where it’s folded. He takes her hand in his and then presses the cane into her palm. 

And it’s as though having that issue solved allows him to register other things she’s said—] Wait, you said track it down? You want to track it down? You really think it’s… that whatever it comes from is still around here someplace? 

[She hisses in a breath.]  I don’t know...I’ve never had a problem spotting an idiot before.  [She jokes with an amused smile.] 

[She turns her attention to tracking down her cane.

Despite her confident tone she anxiously shuffles around the base of the tree. If she doesn’t find it now she’s unlikely to find it later. However, as worrying thoughts begin to stir, Orson spots her cane and retrieves it.  She lets out a relieved sigh when he presses it to her hand. She thanks him then she loops her hand through the wrist strap keeping a firm grip around the folded poles as a self-reminder not to put it down again so carelessly. 

He seems surprised that she actually wants to track the object. Her face flushes wondering if he thinks looking for the mysterious machine is a foolish idea. His questions make her realise she hadn’t actually given it much thought beyond, hey we should go find it. ]

Kind of...but only if you want to [ It dawns on her that it's not very reasonable to ask for his help after he’s been walking around all day. It is also getting cold, which her damp clothes are only partly to blame. It’s mostly her feet that are the problem, which wouldn't be that bad if her ankle wasn’t also sore. It’s probably just one of her old injuries; however, the longer she stands on it the more she fixates on the annoying ache. Even so, she will ignore it for a bit longer right now she just wants to spend time with Orson. ] 

She shrugs,] I mean, chances are it’s long gone, or buried like the wheel. I’d still like to look for it... But, maybe right now’s not the best time for another,  possibly futile trek through the forest. It’s not like it’s going anywhere, and, honestly, I’m not sure my boots can take much more abuse. [Elsa chuckles. However, a sliver of dread seeps in, it’s going to take forever to clean the damn things.]

Untitled_Elsa & Alois

Elsa. [[ He corrects himself to solidify her name in the same way, polite but largely unapologetic. Her concern that they may’ve been introduced before is neither noticed nor apparently shared. ]] For the first time, yeah. I’m pretty sure. [[ Comes the amendment; Alois can often be fuzzy and forgetful when it comes to new names and faces, thanks to insomnia. His sleeping habits also mean he has a tendency to be in and out of Calyset at stranger hours than most, so. His tone doesn’t begrudge either of them anything.

He takes a step to one side and then the other to give her a cursory once-over. ]] Nothing a good launder won’t fix, but you might want to pin an apology to it. [[ Alois says so with amusement in his tone, but lord knows he’s raised his hackles at especially muddy articles coming down the chute. It probably has almost everything to do with the fact he hates laundry rotation on principle, for the teeth-gratingly loud machines. ]]

I’ve seen worse on the training pitch. [[ Which is not necessarily a ringing endorsement, for how much the place can resemble a mud-wrestling pit after a soaking rain. It’s ‘good training for the Games,’ or whatever. They really try to pass just about everything off as good training for the Games. ]] Certainly nothing irreparable, either, if that’s a concern. [[ Clothing was ever a crapshoot, it seemed. New shipments were more than likely to have been picked through by colonies with larger populations – 22 truly got the hand-me-downs of the hand-me-downs. ]]

[Elsa chuckles at his advice to send add an apology with her clothes to the unlucky people stuck on laundry duty. She’s not sure if he meant it only as a joke, regardless it’s good idea and the very least she can do.  Perhaps her clothes are not the worse they’ve seen considering the recent weather, but still, mud is mud and it’s a bitch to get out once it dries. For those who got stuck with the chore in the aftermath of the storms, they truly have her sympathy.  

Despite the mud, he points out she hasn’t done too much damage.] Well, that’s good news at least. [Her jacket is new, or at least new to her. Other than the patchwork at the elbows, the coat was in decent condition when she got it. Usually, she wouldn’t care about wearing out a jacket, but considering the time it took for her to replace her old one, she planned on taking better care of it. Elsa lets out a sigh.] Unfortunately, this not the first battle I’ve lost to a muddle puddle, this week… so, I might have to go one step further and pin an entirely different name on it. 

Nothing to See Here  | Elsa & Orson

[His eyes dart to her as she squeezes his hand, and after just a moment’s delay, he smiles to himself. She’s already let go, but the kindness of the gesture lingers with him—he realizes that in all the time they’ve been friends, they’ve never actually held hands before, he’s pretty sure, even through gloves. Then again, they’ve never really had occasion to. But lately, Orson has begun to consider that maybe he should give up on the whole, needing a reason to touch people thing, even through layers. 

He used to stop himself out of fear—actually, he still flinches when someone reaches for him and he’s not expecting it. But maybe that’s something he should work on… because if he can’t touch someone skin to skin, ever, maybe it’d help his sanity to be better at getting a little more human contact. It always felt like too big of a risk before but… he’s been like this a while. Surely he’s pretty good at making sure that doesn’t happen, right? At least for controlled interactions like this. 

He takes in the object from her as she holds it up—as though she’s inspecting it, even though she’s… not. Well, not really, anyway. With her hands, and sensitivity to the weight, but not with her eyes, clearly. But Orson can do that for her. He tilts his head.] Yeah—it looks like… it looks like a hand wheel though. Like of a big mechanism or maybe a… vehicle? It’s not a normal steering wheel though. Looks incredibly old. 

[He frowns as she mentions the cane, and looks around.] Oh—you lost it? Shit, okay…. [then, as he’s scanning the ground and stepping around carefully—] is it weird that I somehow didn’t realize you used one? I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you use it. But that’s usually inside so… or maybe I just never noticed? Which seems kind of rude, now that I say it. Sorry. 

[She thought she would be satisfied with having a clearer picture of the object. However, now she’s left with even more questions which her curious mind cannot simply let go unanswered.] 

Incredibly old as in an Artifact of some lost civilization?   [Elsa teases, although her imagination could easily spin a story that might support it. ‘One of two mechanisms that unlocks an ancient passage to a nordic realm’... It’s a steering wheel, she reminds herself before an image takes form. Now is not the time to create another fictional world to space out to. Later though.

She pushes her focus to more tangible possibilities. ]

So maybe it's from an old petrol car?  [Elsa's fingertips twitch as she imagines gripping the wheel again as if it might help figure out how it was used. It reminds her she’d never actually sat in the driver's seat of a vehicle before, even so, the wheel seems a bit large for a car. Perhaps that is what Orson means by it not being normal.]

[Elsa claps her hands together brushing away any debris that still clings to the knitted fabric. She hears him look around, presumably for her cane. She quickly waves away his apology. ]

Oh no, it’s really not. I never used it inside though.  [Mostly because she’d end up tripping people wherever she went.] I don't need to, I’ve got a pretty good map of the place, plus this cane’s meant to be used outside. [She clarifies, though even if she still had her short cane for inside it would be collecting dust behind her coat rack.] 

Anyway, I only recently starting using one out here. I’d like to say it’s been a helpful alternative than simply stumbling around but... [She points towards her self, uncomfortably damp and covered in mud.]

Nothing to See Here  | Elsa & Orson

elsa–copland‌:

 [For a brief moment, the sound of his familiar voice is jarring. He is usually the one person she can pick out of a crowd before anyone else.  Clearly, the mud has soaked into her brain, because she hadn’t sensed him at all. She relieved. If anyone was going to witness one of her wipeouts she’d prefer it be a friend who she could swear to secrecy. 

When he insists on helping her a part of her wants to scramble out of the mud right then and there. It’s Orson, she reminds herself, she doesn’t have to worry about proving anything. Instead, she quickly decides to focus on his question.]

Oh, this? I thought I’d take a break. I bet the clouds are lovely today. I wondered, ‘Hey, where would be the most uncomfortable place to lie down in the middle of winter?’ Oh, a muddy pool. Brilliant. [Somehow she manages to make even less sense than usual. A chuckle escapes under her breath, perhaps the cold is finally getting to her. The thought sends a series of cold shivers through her, and she quickly sits up.] 

Oh, and I found…something. 

[She adds with a shrug to hide her discomfort. She shows the wheel-shaped object a moment before hooking her arm through its centre. The chances of it being anything more than useless junk is slim, but she took a mud bath for the damn thing. It’s hers now. If the colony decides they don’t want it maybe she’d gift it to Ajay. 

She almost forgets she heard Orson reach out his hand before.] Sorry! [She reaches out with both hands hoping to find one of his still waiting for her.]  

[He grins, finding himself wishing she could see it. It wasn’t until he became friends with Elsa that he realized his expression of fondness or affection towards people doesn’t usually come in the form of words. It comes in smiles, in gestures, in blushing cheeks, sometimes—and it’s not something he’d even really learned about himself until he’d met Elsa and she’d not been able to see or witness any of that. 

Then again, she is an Empath, so maybe she feels it. That must be part of why she has patience with the weird, quiet little guy that Orson is. Otherwise, why would she? Out of the context of what rolls pretty none-subtly over his soft features, he’d probably seem like a total… creep. If not a threatening one, then a boring one. 

He squints at the object covered in mud—he can’t make out what it is just yet—but that might be because he’s still baffled by the fact that Elsa is still just sitting there in the mud. Unfazed. He wonders if her lack of sight has anything to do with it. Do people who see have more of a fear of things that are ultimately harmless, just because of the way it looks, on top of the way it might feel or smell? Are they all suckers to the trickery of eyesight? After all, isn’t the saying, don’t believe everything you see. 

She finally grabs his hand, and he carefully uses his other one to support her forearm as he helps her up.] What is it, exactly? 

[The curls that string across her face hide her happy little smile as he helps her to her feet. With two layers of gloves between them, she takes the opportunity to give his hand an affectionate squeeze before letting go.]

[With the back of her writs she wipes away strands of hair stuck to her face. Then she unhooks the object looped around her shoulder so he can get a better look at it.] Not sure. I found it sticking out of the ground, a couple feet before the mud patch. 

 [The object's diameter is about the length of her arm and her hands fit easily around either side of the circular frame. She clears off some of the mud and pulls roots curling around the three metal spokes that connect at the centre.] Hmm...maybe it’s some kind of wheel? Is there anything around here missing one? [She’s pretty sure she didn't hear a snapping sound when she pulled it free, but it could still be part of something larger in the area. ]

ajay-bennett‌:

[She’s not wrong. Weirder things do exist. He can speak from experience—and so can she, incidentally. Though, they made tons of comics and movies about being able to move things with your mind, and even a few about reading people’s emotions. But communicating with inanimate objects? Call him a cynic, but that sounds like a pretty fucking boring book. 

She moves, and he takes that as an invite, and steps over the bench with long, gangly legs. He’d feel bad for interrupting her studies if she wasn’t so obviously in need of a break. And, you know, if he had more respect for the Colony schooling system. 

But alas.

His brows bounce when she asks about the ‘stalker vibe.’ Sometimes he forgets the reality of what an Empath can do, and what they experience. It’s not just about knowing when your flirting is working or when someone is lying to your face to get out of sleeping with you. Huh. ]

Shit, you’re good, Elsa. What other kinds of things do you know? [he asks with a grin, and it’s kind of cheeky, framed as a teasing comment, but a part of him means it, too. She probably is privy to a lot of things that other people aren’t. And considering she’s a private sort of person, he wonders what sorts of things she’s picked up on that nobody knows about, and she just keeps to herself. ]

Definitely not a friend. The guards don’t like me at the Hub. The treat me like a black teenager in a convenience store in the 1950s. Though, to be fair, they have reason to. Like, actual evidence. But still. It’s… irritating. I guess you could say I’m used to it though. 

[She responds to his praise with a little shrug and a smile, playing off of his energy. She notes the hint of genuine curiosity that slips through with his question and wonders if it is something she should bring up later.] 

More than I’d like to some times. [She offers with only a slightly less spirited tone. 

She picks up on a lot she probably shouldn’t. With her friends, she tries not to look too deeply into their emotions, but with others, she has a tendency of paying a bit too much attention. Elsa might feel guilty if it didn't make navigating through the colony so much easier. Besides she enjoys being open to the emotions around her. 

Ajay continues and explains his situation with the guards. As he speaks, she focuses back on the emotional state of the guard hovering in the distance and watches the twisting mess of light and colour.  

The guard's mood makes a lot more sense when she considers the possible trouble Ajay's got into around here. Elsa frowns. Although it makes sense and it may even be good for him to have some supervision, it still doesn’t sit well with her having another friend monitored by the guards so closely.]

What kind of evidence? [The question slips out unintentionally but she continues.] Any chance of burning it, because, your right, this guy’s really not a fan.  

Nothing to See Here  | Elsa & Orson

[He’d been a last minute addition to the scavenging rotation. Which technically, sucks, considering he’d already been doing his janitorial duties this week, so now he’s kind of doing double—but apparently, with Clayton being away so suddenly (the details of which he doesn’t entirely know, but he’d heard rumours about visiting a long last family member or something), they’d asked Orson to take Clay’s place. 

Well, asked is being generous—and playing fast and loose with the term ‘asked’—and he doesn’t know why they chose him of all people, but when he saw the list of who else would be going on the trip, he actually agreed pretty willingly. This week’s group was pretty much entirely made up of friends of his, and to be honest, he’s always liked getting outside the walls. It gives him a sense of… relief from a claustrophobic feeling he never realizes is there until its gone. Though he does approach the rotation with a little more paranoia now, ever since he’d fallen into that trap and Pax had had to com save him some several hours later… but still. Anything is better than the murky, depressing monotony of the Colony walls right now. 

At first, he’s concerned when he sees Elsa on her back in the mud, but is much less so when he catches sight of that casual, self-deprecating grin on her face. God, nothing has ever rocked this woman. He shakes his head fondly, as he approaches her to reach out his gloved-hand—it’s cold, so he’s not wearing his fingerless ones, and she’s got her own on as well, so he has little to be worried about.

Her tone has this ring of affected casualness to it that reminds Orson of one of those ‘nothing to see here’ dismissals. Which is… ironic wording, in any case.]

Well, a little better than you, by the looks of it. Here, let me help you up. What happened? 

 [For a brief moment, the sound of his familiar voice is jarring. He is usually the one person she can pick out of a crowd before anyone else.  Clearly, the mud has soaked into her brain, because she hadn’t sensed him at all. She relieved. If anyone was going to witness one of her wipeouts she’d prefer it be a friend who she could swear to secrecy. 

When he insists on helping her a part of her wants to scramble out of the mud right then and there. It’s Orson, she reminds herself, she doesn't have to worry about proving anything. Instead, she quickly decides to focus on his question.]

Oh, this? I thought I’d take a break. I bet the clouds are lovely today. I wondered, ‘Hey, where would be the most uncomfortable place to lie down in the middle of winter?’ Oh, a muddy pool. Brilliant. [Somehow she manages to make even less sense than usual. A chuckle escapes under her breath, perhaps the cold is finally getting to her. The thought sends a series of cold shivers through her, and she quickly sits up.] 

Oh, and I found...something. 

[She adds with a shrug to hide her discomfort. She shows the wheel-shaped object a moment before hooking her arm through its centre. The chances of it being anything more than useless junk is slim, but she took a mud bath for the damn thing. It’s hers now. If the colony decides they don't want it maybe she’d gift it to Ajay. 

Untitled_Elsa & Alois

[[ Alois is damp, and he is tired, and he is thoroughly disgruntled to be on yet another hunting rotation. He’s spent at least the last hour or so wholeheartedly regretting turning down Clove’s offer to get him out of chores, particularly as the cold mud seeps through his wool socks with patient efficiency, and some help from the gaping holes he’s worn in his boots.

At least, Alois thinks, he is doing better than this woman he finds sitting directly in the middle of a particularly large puddle. ]]

Uh. It’s going. [[ The situation is disarming enough that even he can quirk a ghost of a smile, and as he stands at the edge of the puddle and gets a better look at her, Alois is pretty sure they share a house. He takes note of her cane as he shifts the rifle on his shoulder – unfired and unused as always – and leans in to offer his left hand with a tentative brush of fiberglass fingertips, doing his best not to startle her. ]] Give you a hand? I think you’ve found enough rusty wheels for the good of the colony today.

[Elsa senses a hint of concern and casts the stranger a warm smile to let him know she is all right. She is used to stumbling around out here and the occasional slip was bound to happen. 

She gives a quick nod accepting his offer to help. While gripping the wheel to her chest she sits up. Water seeps through her coat and Elsa shutters as it soaks the back of her legs.] Yeah, that's me just doing my part one piece of rubbish at a time.

[Elsa chuckles and tosses the wheel to the side where she can recover it later.

She figures she will need his help once she was standing so she plunges one hand back in the mud and quickly pushes her self to her feet. As she suspected both feet begin to slide in opposite directions. She immediately takes a step forward to stop from falling face-first into the mud.

With her arms flails around for a moment to steady herself. She wipes her palms on the cleanest part of her coat before she extends her hand. Hopefully, he can reach her without having to step in the puddle.]

ajay-bennett‌:

[Dante had advised Ajay to steer clear of the Trading Hub, considering his ‘condition’, but for fuck’s sake, he’s more than thirty years old—how would it look if he started heeding doctors and therapists’ advice now? There’s a lot of things he isn’t, and so the least he can do is be consistent, right? 

At least, that’s what he tells himself, as he peruses the rows of stalls, some of which are still showing signs of damage from the storm. Yes, the place had reopened after a few days—maybe a week, he can’t really remember—but it’d not been without evidence still of what had happened. Apparently, a lot of the Merchants had lost a lot of goods, too. Some of them still paying off the loss.

For some people, it might’ve made them think twice about stealing from the traders, but those people also probably thought twice about most things they did. Those people also probably didn’t still useless junk they didn’t need for no reason other than it being there, within reach. 

It’s not like this is a particularly conscious thing, after all. It’s not like he wants to be doing this shit. 

Somehow, that argument makes him feel exempt from any guilt or responsibility, now that he’s here, against doctors orders. 

Unfortunately, patrolling guards are still a thing, and he’s pretty sure he’s been here long enough now that they know his face; know that he’s a class three and some of them even know why he was transferred here. Have read his file and know more or less the whole story. So when one of them starts keeping an uncomfortably close eye on him—as in, following him around every corner and never letting him out of sight—Ajay decides to veer away, towards one of the random covered areas nearby where there are a few tables and such. 

Thankfully, he spots Elsa, and talking to her keeps him occupied enough to make him look less suspicious, and hopefully let the Mr. Looky-Loo leave him the hell alone.

He grins at her, genuinely glad to see her as he approaches—none too quietly, so as not to startle her. This may be convenient timing, but Elsa is genuinely cool, and he’d never turn down her wry company.] You know, I think one of my favourite things about you is how you always, always talk to inanimate objects like they can hear you. It’s like… my favourite thing. 

[The line etched between her brow softens when she hears his voice but she fights back a grin as he approaches. Lowering her notebook Elsa puts on her best-unimpressed glare.] I’m so glad my frustration amuses you. 

But hey, they might hear me, weirder things exist. [Humour colours her cold tone and a smile dances across her lips. She shakes her head then reaches up to touch the earbud that is still playing in one ear.] yeah I’m pretty sure this text reader has purposefully slowed down since I complained so... [She pulls the cord of her headphones plucking the noise from her ear.] that’s enough of him for now.

She swivels in her seat to make room in case he wants to sit down when she senses something unsettling. Intuitively she reaches out with her empatheia and pinpoints a light green spiral that forms in the distance. Elsa thinks what she senses is suspicion. The most likely conclusion would be a guard, which would also make sense since they often gave her that feeling that someone is watching her a bit too intently.

She rests her chin in her palm casually trying to ignore the prickling feeling rolling over her arms and back of her neck.] So I’m getting a bit of a stalker-ish vibe from someone over there. That just me or did you bring a friend along? 

[The overgrown path is narrow but she knows it well enough to avoid the twisted roots and brambles. A bag full of scavenged items clangs against her hip and catch occasionally as she pushes through the forest brush. Her group had been out most of the day and had made their way back to sweep the colony perimeter.

Scavenging days are one of the few times she doesn’t mind using the guide cane the colony supplied when she arrived. She even made a few changes to help her search for resources. She's particularly fond of the magnetic attachment she crafted to help find metal objects. As she turns down a lower path, it doesn't take long for her to find something hidden under the forest growth. She clears the moss and carefully inspects the curved surface of the object until her hands trace to the ground where the rest remains buried. 

Her curiosity takes over and she quickly pulls on a pair of gloves. She gives the object a strong tug. The object is much lighter than she anticipates and lifts from out of the ground in one swift motion. Elsa takes a sudden step to steady herself when her heel catches. The landing is surprisingly soft which is less of relief when she sinks an inch in the ground. The smell of mud sets in around her but at least it hasn't seeped through her jacket. She lies there a moment chuckling at the wheel-shaped object still in her hands. Elsa quiets only as she hears the sound of footsteps close by and without lifting her head she greets them as casually as she can manage.]

Hey there, how’s it going?

@ajay-bennett

[Air rushes in from an open window whisking tangled curls across her face. No matter how many times she brushed them away, the stands find their way back fluttering at the ends of her lashes. However, the fresh air the wind carries is worth the slight annoyance.

She’s found a spot to sit close to the Distribution Center and Trading hub. She was close enough that she could hear the muffled voices of the ongoings between the traders. But she is far enough out of the way that traffic moving in and out of the area isn’t overly distracting. 

She will eventually make her way over there but for now, she is semi-determined to get her homework out of the way. With a headphone in, she listens to the assigned chapter of her science book “ Note that if the external force is applied to an object, the velocity...” With her notebook balanced over a hardcover book,  she writes with her slate and stylus moving quickly along the page recording any key points. Although she hates sitting in class she’s always loved learning new things.  She completes every assignment and every reading, but the hardest part has been keeping focus long enough to complete them. 

She remembers having a longer attention span in high school. She wonders if adults able to develop ADHD?  It seems unlikely, but it would explain a lot.

She taps her stylus on the edge of her knee where it meets bare skin. The rip of jeans extends from her knee to halfway up her thigh. She’d have to save up and get some new clothes soon but she’ll have to make do with some repairs. She will need some fabric and thread, maybe a few other supplies. The chatter from outside seems mild, she should head over to the trading hub before it gets to busy. 

FOCUS. She’s already on point 8 of chapter five, and the chapters always end at point 8. She just has to get through this chapter. She takes down a few more notes as the ebook spews out a new equation.  Elsa rests her chin in her hand.

She finally perks up as the audio pauses indicating the end of the chapter. She triumphantly shuts her notebook. Audio plays in her ear again, “5.9. Kinetic Energy and Motion.” ]

 Point 9! Since when is there a 9. [Elsa buries her head in her notebook and mumbles.] Wrap it up, mate. 

Books and Bindings || Trig & Elsa

That’s cool. [Trig wondered if Elsa would have been able to learn to read braille had she been fostered in the home he and the other Lost Boys had been in; though of course, that had been a boys home so it never would have happened, but that besides the point. He had doubts they’d be able to teach and supply her with the necessary tools for learning it. So she’d been lucky, in a sense.] 

You think you’d uh - be able to teach me? [It comes out of his lips before he can really process the words and his cheeks burn red immediately.] I uh - I mean - I think it’d be cool to uh - learn… [Trig was like a sponge, he wanted to absorb and know every detail, everything he could possibly learn. Of course he could read since he had sight, but reading with one’s fingers? It seemed so…interesting. Plus it was practically a means to writing a secret code - though of course, Elsa would always be in on it.] That’s great that you’ve still got all the things you need…

[As she indicates the shelf of novels he nods, turning his attention to them in hopes that maybe he won’t embarrass himself any further. It was a wonder he was able to function at all given his lack of ability to interact with people.] Have you read them? [He asks before flushing again,] I mean - I guess you haven’t…read them. Not these ones, anyway. Err - how’d you know about ‘em?

[Even in secondary school classmates would still approach her with questions about how she wrote or her friends would have her write their name on a notebook, but no one ever asked if they could learn it themselves. With that in mind, she may have been sceptical of his interest to learn if she couldn't sense his curiosity and the genuine embarrassment from diving right in and asking her.] I think it would be cool to teach you. [She replies with an encouraging nod, but inside she is grinning ear to ear.]

Alphabetic Braille shouldn’t be that difficult to learn. Oh and I could show you a bit of Nemeth, it’s used for mathematics.   [Her tone lifts as she speaks.

Teaching him would be something new to do, but she also may be one of the last people who may actually read braille. It seems like a good idea to try to pass it on to others, blind or not. ]

[He asks if she’s read the books she’s pointed out to him. It was a sensible question, she obviously would not have been able to read the ones on the shelves.  If she could it wouldn’t have done any good to offer them up to Trig. At least not before she’s taught him how to read braille. ]

I read most of them before d-day. But I found these ones while browsing through the spines.  If the letters are embossed, I can usually read what's on the covers. It’s something to do when I’m bored.

Books and Bindings || Trig & Elsa

[That’s right. That was one thing that was critically important and different about Elsa. She was blind. Yet she held herself with confidence, wandered through the library with just the feel of her fingertips across the bindings, looking for braille readings and navigating with ease. Trig couldn’t imagine what it was like to be blind, especially now when his sight was magnified to such limits. What would he do without books to read, notes to write? Well, clearly he would just learn how to read and write with the braille cells, just as Elsa was holding out and indicating.] 

They have braille books here? [Trig questions, looking down at the notebook as she holds it out and letting his fingers test the feel of the raised dots beneath them - as if he could so quickly learn how to read it with just the touch. It was fascinating, really, how the blind had learned to adapt with something as simple as a sequence of dots to represent numbers and letters, a roaming of fingers instead of eyes over a page. He wondered if he could learn it; he’d learned a bit of sign language back in the day, though most of that had gone away with disuse. He could maybe spell the alphabet if he tried. 

He smiles as she explains the books she’s looking for, glancing towards the shelves as if one might suddenly pop out and yell ‘I’m here, read me Elsa!’] I will definitely keep a look out. When did ya learn to read braille? Do you write your own things with it?

[A hand ruffles through his hair, combing the strands away from his face, before he answers her question.] Uh - I guess I wasn’ really lookin’ for anything specific. Just…wanderin’ too.

[ She brightens for a moment after he agrees to keep a lookout for any braille printed books. 

Elsa didn’t have high expectations for the colonies library when she first arrived. But after finding the first few of her little collection, she was more surprised that what she found were quality books of fiction and poetry. The potential of there being a hidden gem among the shelves made the search more interesting. 

Momentarily distracted she realizes after a brief pause he’s asked her a question.]

oh, um. I was maybe five or six so... [Elsa mutters thinking out loud.] I started learning a bit in year one, pretty much when everyone else was learning to read. I just had different tools.

 [ Elsa smiles with half-shrug. Although most of her memories from early primary school are overshadowed by the trauma of losing her sight and reentering the foster care system, learning to read is one of the few fond memories she has. It was a time before she started to feel like there was an invisible distance between her and the other kids. It helped that they didn’t start teasing her when they noticed she learning something different then they were.  Instead, they were curious and would often ask to feel the braille cells in her workbooks. It was their genuine interest that encouraged her when she struggled and still feel excited about what she was learning. ]

Oh, and yeah I write a bit, [She adds flipping through the very full pages of her notebook.] even with the makeshift slate I use. 

[People seem to wander a lot in this library, more so than others, which probably has a lot to with not knowing where things are but also it has a warm safe feeling about it. Then again that could just be Elsa.]