Voxophone I -- video

[beunbroken]

[UNLIKE her… friend? escort? companion? partner-in-crime?, Elizabeth had significantly less-trouble starting the network running. Probably because she paid attention to what was being told to her. What can she say? She picks things up pretty easily. After turning on the PC, she settles down in front of it, looking at it curiously. This is where the feed begins.]

Oh! Hello! You really can see my face! It's like a voxophone and a Kinetoscope all in one!

Right. My name's Elizabeth- I'm looking for a man? He's tall, brown hair, rugged-looking, scowls all the time, like this: [She contorts her face into an exaggerated scowl for a moment, before returning to an easier-to-look-at face.] His name is Booker Dewitt, and if anyone has seen him… Well, I hope he's here. [Did she actually just say that? Yes, yes she did.]

And if he's not? Well, then, hello!

Comments

[dashesanddots]

The nail on the head exactly. [Entirely the wrong hands for a god though, no matter which way you looked at him.]

[beunbroken]

And what better way to be a god than pretend to be the mouthpiece? [There's something dark in her eyes, in her words, and it's something she's going to shove away. Later, when she wakes up screaming from the nightmares that have been plaguing her, she'll lie to Booker, tell him it was nothing. Even if she has visions of herself playing the role of the lamb. The Seed of the Prophet shall sit the throne...]

[dashesanddots]

[If this were a face-to-face conversation, it's at this point he would probably reach out and place a hand on hers, provide some sort of creature comfort. Probably not even because she needs it, more that he feels like he should provide that small connection, expression that he is here, that he's sorry for all that happened. Maybe because he needs to feel forgiveness from the apology that he can't express properly or truly to its fullest extent.

But here they are over the network, and still this feeling radiates from him, in his face, his eyes and voice as he speaks.]

When one is the sole provider of words, eventually they see the power they hold and begin to twist things into their own ideals. A fine line between vision and madness.

God knows I've crossed that line myself on occasion.

[beunbroken]

I know. [Her words, in contrast to his, are cold. Why wouldn't they be? She'd seen that line. She was the line.

But at least he can see the error in his ways. At least he hired Booker to get her out of there. And provided them some sort of assistance on their quest.

There's something about Robert, though, that's comforting. Elizabeth isn't sure what it is, it's different from how she feels about Booker, far more similar to how she feels about Rosalind. Oddly familiar with them.

And here, in this unfamiliar world, she's afraid to ask why that is. Even more so, because she knows the answer. Because they visited her in her tower. They had to have.]

You've... All the times I remember, you've been kind to me. Thank you.

[dashesanddots]

[Thanks is close enough to forgiveness that he feels relief putting to rest all the bundles of nerves awake and making him anxious. He sighs, a small smile finds its way back on his face.]

You're welcome. I'm glad to see the little bird has grown her flight feathers.

[beunbroken]

[his choice of words is enough to make her frown, pursing her lips slightly. But it was true, she realizes, reaching up to touch the bird broach on her necklace.]

I guess I have.