#c:magda

[dayanitas]

Closed Starter for: @spiritvalist​ Location: Magda’s Home

Two things are true. 

The first is that, unlikely as the prospect may seem to one looking in from the outside, Dayanita and Magdalena are friends. They are a pair of polar opposites - Daya, the architect, a woman who lives in the realm of mathematics and science, and Magda, who has reached notoriety in the pursuit of a more abstract calling. Daya cannot say she has always believed it, but she respects it, and sometimes, that is enough. Despite all that is different between them, they have found common ground, stable enough to build a friendship upon. 

The second truth is not so pleasant to stomach. She does not know that she believes in the same things Magda insists are true, or that there are such things as supernatural gifts, but she does believe that Magda is a very perceptive woman, able to see and deduce things that others miss. For Daya, that is a terrifying prospect. The gilded mask she dons is enough to fool many, but if there is anybody who can see through the facade she has crafted, it is Magda. For a long time, Daya has been living a lie, but now is the first time she has ever felt at her breaking point, and she does not put it past Magda to know this from the moment they set eyes upon each other. Daya does not want to be seen, does not invite the attention, and so, the mere thought of such occuring is not a welcome prospect. 

The two truths have done battle in the days following Daya’s return from France, and in the end, the first wins out, the fear of losing yet another friend striking more fear in Daya’s heart than the fear of being confronted with her own failings. And it is this which brings her hear, to Magda’s home, today, making the effort to pretend that nothing is wrong. 

“Have you been to Paris before?” She strikes up a conversation about her trip, and hopes that it sounds natural, unforced and unmarred with the worries plaguing her over these last few months. “I think you would like it there. There’s all sorts of strange people - more than London, but then again, you know me. I don’t make a habit of being where strange people are.” She’s talking more than normal, anything to fill the silence and distract from it. “There were some gorgeous boutiques worth shopping in, though. Should I ever return, it will be for the clothes alone.” 

[pollysheedy]

Closed starter for @spiritvalist​ Location : The Britannia 

“Thank you for coming.”  Polly curls their hand around their cup, an automatic, anxious gesture to hide the fact that they have no idea what they’re doing, nor what they’re really asking for. What had been happening to them was no longer a novelty, now something so ingrained in who they were as a person that they could hardly imagine a time when things weren’t this way - like their arms or their skin or their heart, the voices had become just another aspect of who Polly is, and they’re getting better at tuning in to what they’re trying to say in a way that they couldn’t have imagined a few months ago, when they did nothing but frighten them. 

They had confided in a few people now - Lucian, Zoya, Rahat to an extent. All knew what it was that Polly heard, though none had any particular advice to give to them. How could they? None of them are a particular authority on ghosts. They could ask Muiris Doyle, they suppose, but strange things happen when they sit at that man’s table. They’re too afraid of what he may say, or what may happen, and thus, have decided not to bother him with their quest for answers. 

But Madga? She is different all together. Polly knows them by reputation, somebody who has embraced the world of the dead in the way they hope to. If anybody in this city has answers for them, it’s her. But broaching the subject? That’s another matter all together. 

“I’m glad you could make heads or tails of my letter. My handwriting is awful,” Polly chuckles, scrunching their nose in self deprecation. “But you’re here! So obviously you could read it okay.” They pause, raising the cup and drinking to wash away the dryness suddenly in their throat. “I was hoping we could speak about ghosts and stuff. If that’s okay with you?”

[femmefatale-rps]