checkingout | i'm gonna change you like a remix [open]

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i'm gonna change you like a remix [open]

Who: SKYE and YOU
Where: The main lobby, mostly (available elsewhere).
When: February 16th
What: If you're freezing half to death and can't control your powers, clap your hands.
Notes: Anyone is free to have wandered into range and noticed some WEIRD QUAKING going on. Available in prose or commentspam.

Something is very wrong here.

The tremors come intermittently, usually joined with particularly bad shakes on her part. It's not the first time she's noticed it—the bulb in her room shattered on the first day, the bible fell off the night table. Truthfully, she'd hoped "haunted" was the answer. It'd fit with the rest of the creepy atmosphere.

But this is something else. Blankets bundled around her, Skye departs her room, thinking it'll get her away from whatever the hell is going on with it, but the quaking follows her. She huddles up under the concierge desk in the lobby, tucked away from view. The fireplace doesn't do a lot for heat, but it keeps the main floor at a slightly higher temperature than the rest of the hotel (or maybe that's just the placebo effect of hearing it crackling). That's enough for her.

Or she'd like to think. Showing up in a t-shirt just off of a mission in San Juan was really biting her in the ass now: she hadn't packed for just above freezing temperatures. As her shivers worsen, so too does the way her abilities shake the room around her. Ten feet in any direction, a low-scale earthquake sets in. The pen cup rattles. The table lamp pops a bulb and falls over before vibrating off the edge of the desk, dangling by its cord.

And the fact that it moved with her from her bedroom? Well that just makes it harder for her to calm down.

Her shoulders hunch around her ears, and she raises her hands to pull at her hair, muscles tight to conserve both her body heat and her sanity. Something's wrong. Whatever those crystals in the temple did, it followed her here. So her breath is short with muted panic, afraid of herself and unable to get away from it.

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Regina's suitcase selections certainly haven't helped her keep warm. She has dresses, for them most part, and a gown from her reign as queen. There are few pant suits, so she's wearing business pants, and her long sleeved pajama top with tights. It's not the most matched she's ever been, but with her own blanket around her shoulders, she's warm enough in he warmer lobby. And then, as she sits lost in her thoughts, she feels it. A shaking, a rumbling, and she frowns. What fresh hell is this going to be?

Standing, she wanders for a moment, trying to get to the source until she hits the concierge desk. Frowning, she stands in front of it, and then the small quake happens again and she makes her way around, only to find someone huddled there. It clicks then, that she's the source, and two things pop into Regina's mind: First, how the hell was she able to do it if there was no magic here, and second: is it magic? What the hell is it? But grilling her won't make it stop, so she kneels down, studying her and not afraid at all. She's been around people with stronger powers, or at least equal.

"If you fear what you're doing and let that consume you, it's not going to get better," she offers.

When Regina appears behind the counter with her, Skye scoots back, burrowing deeper in her blankets to try and recoil from the woman. The last thing she wants is to get her hurt, or worse, and right now, that's the only outcome she can see. The tremors grow worse, enough to throw Regina just slightly off balance but not enough to truly quake the hotel's foundations or damage it structurally.

"I don't know what I'm doing!" She admits, anguished, confused, and scared all at once. Her fear is rooted as much in her uncertainty as it is her compassion for the people she could hurt if she can't rein it in. That empathic worry only makes it harder for her to regain control: if the circumstances allowed it, she wouldn't even be in the hotel anymore, but there's no escaping it. Nowhere to outrun this. "Please, just get back before it gets worse."

"Whatever it is, you don't know how to control it," Regina says as she rocks on her heels and reaches out to hold onto the top of the counter.

"It's definitely you though, and I'm guessing whatever it is, is like magic - it's tied to your emotions." She's not exactly yelling at her, she's not harsh, but this is definitely like trying to coach Emma on her most blonde days.

"So that means you have to calm down. Breathe in and out, deeply, slowly."

Regina has no idea if it's magic or not, or if it's just what this woman is, but it's still power, and she's trying to keep it from getting bigger. Although, if it did, maybe it'd knock down a damn wall and they could leave.

Breathe in and out. Specific instructions help pierce the veil of anxiety, whereas previous urging towards calmness had only ever pushed her in the vague direction of further panic at not being able to bring herself down. Her lips are chapped from the cold, but she draws air purposefully between them, each breath trembling with her continued shivers. Pulling the blanket more tightly around her, she curls her fingers into her hair, holding either side of her head and trying to soothe herself appropriately.

The tremors begin to die down, lessening to a steady hum more than anything else. That final inch won't budge, though—she doesn't know what this is, what's happening, or how she can get rid of it. Doesn't even know what these powers are. She's never been Gifted. If this is a superpower, it means she's like Donnie Gill. It mean she's gone wrong somehow.

Tense as a frightened deer, she slowly shifts her gaze up towards Regina, studying her face. Through the grip of her terror, she admits, "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Nothing's wrong with you. You just have...something you never knew you were capable of. When I first figured out I could make fire with my magic I burned down half a section of forest," she admits. "And I'd show you my magic, but it seems like you're the lucky one. If you can figure out how to control this, and the strength, you're an asset. You're the best chance we have to knock down a wall and get the hell out of here."

Regina is not afraid of this woman. On the contrary, if she can help her cultivate this...whatever it is, she's sure as hell going to if it means an escape plan. And, Skye's nice enough. Scared, sarcastic to cope with whatever goes on in her life. Regina gets that, understands it.

She smiles though, still for a moment, because the smaller vibrations are better than what she was doing. "See? You're already controlling it better."

Half a section of forest. Rather than help, it makes her think back to San Juan. And horror rends her expression like the earthquake had rent the earth. A sudden sharp quake rattles the floor below them and ten feet around as it sinks in. At the time, she couldn't imagine it was her. The falling rocks, the panic, the change, Trip—it was all too much. The temple, certainly. The Diviner, probably. But her?

And if it was that bad below ground, then above …

Winded by the realization that she'd caused a natural disaster on that scale, she leans back, covering her mouth with her hands and trying very deliberately to breathe, failing to keep it paced. Oh god. All those people. They were right below the city, the whole time. If she'd caused that earthquake, and people got hurt.

There was no way they didn't. There was no way that kind of quake came without casualties. Her voice is raw, strained, as she croaks, "No." She's not just wrong. She's a monster. Just like her father. That was all he'd ever wanted, wasn't it? To bring her down with him. The lights flicker and she lets out a louder cry, "No!" Hands push back into her hair, pulling at it. This time, the shake seems to pain her somehow, pulling at something anguished and grieving inside of her.

Trip was her fault, but it's worse than that. He's the tip of the iceberg.

This girl is a basket case, something else has happened to her, and it seems no amount of trying to calm her down will actually work. But, Regina's never been one to give up, and she reaches out, hands going to Skye's wrists so she doesn't pull her hair out.

"Look. At. Me," she commands with all of the firmness of a queen, trying to hold Skye's gaze. "What you're in control of is this moment, right now. You can calm down, deep breaths in and out because you just did it. I don't know anything about you beyond you think I'm full of crap about magic and Snow White. I don't need to know anything to know that whatever this is, you don't understand. No one told you, no one has helped you, and the only thing you know is to be afraid."

Regina, when she wants to, can dig into that past of hers, the one where she was a good girl with a kind heart. Now it's slightly tinged with decades of weariness, a bit of blackness, but it's there.

"Maybe I can't help you, but I'm not afraid of you either, and you don't have to be alone. So just look at me."

Tears sting the corners of her eyes as she looks up at Regina on command, stilling as the queen pulls her hands away from her hair. There's very real fear there, simmering just beneath the surface. For once, it's not fear of Regina, though, but fear of herself.

No one will understand. That was how her father had cautioned her, and she was terrified to think he might be right. But Regina does. Somehow, for whatever reason, the Evil Queen is the one who gets it, and that doesn't bode well for whatever has changed inside of her. Shaking her head, Skye mournfully answers, "You should be."

If that was her in San Juan, then they all should be. Because it's going to get a lot worse. But the focus tempers the tremors, a low rumble keyed in with her shivering.

She'd said that to Robin. Those exact words, and for a moment, just a brief one, her face falls. Right then, she decides she's not leaving Skye and winds up sitting beside her, right there behind the counter.

"I'm not a good person. Or at least I thought I wasn't. But two people in my life have refused to give up on me no matter what I do or say, not matter what they find out about me, about who I was." She pauses, because both of those people are gone right now, one for good no matter if she's here or back in Storybrooke.

"I'm not the most qualified to give advice about things like this." Regina knows that. "But I do know a thing or two about having power and not wanting it. Feeling forced to have something you never asked for."

In settling down on the ground beside her, Regina goes against every expectation Skye has. Either she truly has no sense of self preservation, or she's a lot braver than Skye would ever give someone with Evil in their name credit for. Her eyes widen, expression softening to reveal the vulnerability lying deep below her fear.

Decrying her own goodness in the same breath as making the same promise to refuse to give up on Skye only makes the agent want to reach out for her, to reassure her in the same way that she'd reassured Mike Peterson. No, she thinks, you are good. You're here. But when her hand moves to start towards Regina's, she stops herself, afraid of what touching her might do.

Afraid of herself.

So she closes her hand reflexively, just short of contact, and holds Regina's gaze instead. Her lips press tightly together to restrain her emotions: her dread, her pain, her fear. When she finally gets them reined in, she ventures to ask, "What did you do? How did you get rid of it?" Because she doesn't want to keep it, doesn't want to stay like this. She wants to be fixed. To undo what her father had made wrong in her.

She doesn't want to freak Skye out again, and maybe someday they can really talk about the truth of it all. But for now, she just looks at her, giving her a tight lipped smile.

"I didn't get rid of it. But people decided to never give up on me anyway. And when you have that, even if it's just one person, it can be just as powerful."

It had only been Robin before Henry even knew who Regina was again, and he'd never left her side, even in the Enchanted Forest where she thought he was a complete ass. She notices when Skye stops short on touching her, and doesn't push it. Someone with Evil in her name has faced worse than this.

It's not an invigorating review, not exactly, but it's something.

Skye just can't be certain, here and now, that she's got anyone like that. If they knew what she was responsible for, about Trip, and the earthquake in San Juan. That's what her father had tried to put in her head, that they'd turn from her after the change. Well it was one hell of a change.

She scrubs her hands over her face, the low hum of the vibrating desk turning more intermittent with her touch-and-go shivers. "Lucky you," she notes, trying to latch onto the quip to level herself out. Lighten the conversation, take the focus off herself.

"It took a decade or three," she said with a half smile. "And since we're formally meeting face to face, I'm Regina. The not evil anymore queen."

She's not going to have that moniker here, and should someone she loves arrive, they're going to know there's been no trace of that woman she was.

"Skye." She returns, huffing out a breath. It's a deliberate move, trying to calm herself down. Red still rings her eyes, and her ever-wry smile is shaky, but it's progress. A conscious effort. Turning things on Regina is helping, that's for certain. "But … you knew that." Because she announced it on the subnetwork.

Shaking her head, she darts her tongue out and takes a few seconds to lasso in her heart rate, calming herself down. Focusing on what Regina says helps, so she questions her further, "You don't look old enough to be saying that. Is it the magic, the fairytale, or the total bad guy drinking the blood of newborns that did it?" Light humor twists with the words to keep them from reaching the status of a legitimate jab. Once a villain, always the butt of villain jokes, as far as she's concerned. That's the price.

Regina can take it - she already does from Charming nearly every day - and smirks back. "Monthly juice cleanse." She sighs though, leaning her head back against the counter. "The magic. When I cast the curse I did, time was frozen for twenty-eight years. Blood of newborns isn't my thing anyway."

Her tone is joking, but she's a little serious too. The amount of spells that called for newborns was disturbing, and Rumple had often made deals with them. It was one thing she'd never really been into, aside from taking away Snow's happiness.

"Think I preferred the version of that where you said it's not a thing at all," Skye comments with a slight scrunch of her nose. She lets that go, though, and looks up to instead notice that the earthquake has died down entirely. For the first time in—well, in hours—she's remembering what being still feels like. The cold settles back in, but it's preferable to the alternative, which is having no control over herself.

A soft look of relief captures her expression, and she lowers her hands to her lap, exhaling a few uneven breaths. Her eyes shut, and she tilts her head back against the panel of the desk.

Regina looks over at her, taking her in, wondering what happened to her. She figures this isn't exactly magical, a person typically knew when they had power. Unless you're Emma Swan, true love child extraordinaire, but that was a different matter altogether.

Holding out part of her blanket, she speaks softly. "You must be cold. I'm not going anywhere, so here." It's too cold in her room to really want to go back up anyway. And as long as she's here, doing whatever it is she's doing and getting clsoer to Skye, she might as well share the warmth.

For a moment, she's like a frightened bird, ready to recoil from the offer. But the softness of Regina's voice lures her in, and Skye swallows her refusal, pulling her own blanket in and scooting closer. She layers their blankets over one another, huddling close and slipping one arm around Regina's back.

Regina's slightly surprised by the gesture, but instinct kicks in and she realizes this is what she didn't have. When Rumple made her feel out of control, when she was terrified about the power she could wield (for as short a time that lasted), there was never someone to simply care for her. Truthfully, she'd never had anyone other than her father, and there's a gap in her life where he was gone, trapped in Wonderland.

Sometimes, she wonders if someone other than the Dark One had taught her how to use magic and control it, if she'd been taught hope and love and lightness, where she'd be now. It does't help to dwell on it, but maybe she can be that person for Skye, she thinks. So, she holds onto her, huddling up to stay warm.

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i'm gonna change you like a remix [open]

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/wrap?

sure thing :)