"Nope," Capochin replies, not looking up from his paperwork. "You're all good, Basira, good work as usual. I'll getcha another one once you get some food in ya. Help yourself to some'a them meatballs I made, too, if ya want. There's some penne to go with 'em in that covered bowl."
"Thought it smelled good in here. I might take something home, thanks," Basira says, taking a chair out in the common area. It's easy enough to talk to him without having to interrupt what he's working on. A decent amount of personal bubble in a workspace, largely out of habit. "Anything come in while I was out?"
She's prone to this, sticking to talking about work when she's in. A little bit distant, but not in a cold way - at worst, focused and impersonal. Such is the way of things.
"Ehhh, nothin' crazy. This one's prob'ly gonna be for Daisuke. Pickin' up cupcakes for a kid's birthday party over at Autumn Leaves," Capo muses, then looks up.
"Why ya so damn far away? C'mere! I ain't gonna bite ya. What, do I smell bad?"
"Oh. I... assumed you'd want space to work, that's all."
There's a moment of shuffling, tucking a sandwich freshly-bitten-into back into her bag, before she's properly in Capochin's office, taking one of the chairs. Bag back to the floor, food back out, albeit uncertainly. (Since when did she get so bad at being chummy in the office? Probably some time during the apocalypse, or in the Lonely-operated Institute. She's got to brush back up on her workplace pleasantries.)
"If I didn't want people in here, I'd'a closed the door," Capochin reasons, picking at his own lunch. He's got a serving of the aforementioned pasta and meatballs at his own desk that he's picking at. "Sometimes you act like you ain't used to people wantin' you around."
"Last couple of places I worked at kept people fairly spread out, save for partners on the job," Basira says, giving a short shrug. "Definitely didn't have much to show from anyone in admin that being around more than necessary was something anyone wanted. So there's some adjusting, working here."
Mid bite, Capochin's brow raises a bit. "Y'know, you keep sayin' these vague, kinda ominous things about where you used to work, but you ain't ever told me much about it. What kinda place was it that you came from?"
Well, it was a conversation that was bound to come up eventually, but it doesn't make it feel any more like a good idea to inundate her small, silly bosses with horrors beyond comprehension. Can't exactly keep dodging around it if he's asking directly, though.
"Not exactly good. Similar to here, but worse," Basira starts to explain. "It's a long story. A lot of gory details in a very literal sense. But if you want to know, I can get into it. It's just not the sort of thing that's a good idea to drop into polite conversation."
Basira eyes him for a moment, considering how deeply to get into everything. He's asking, though, so... might as well.
"...Alright," she concedes at last, leaning back in her seat and trying to recount details as clearly as possible. "For context, the world I come from had these sort of--- I don't know what they were, exactly, beyond them being outside of our dimension, influencing it, and feeding on fear. Fourteen of them, embodying something people are afraid of, and making monsters to cause that kind of fear. Sometimes people could get turned into something that feeds off fear, too, and gets a little bit of power in return. But the big ones we were working with were..."
Setting her sandwich aside, she counts them out on her fingers while she explains.
One. "The Eye. Fear of being watched, having your secrets exposed, judgement. Literal eyes, sometimes. My last job turned out to be dedicated to it, taking statements of people's traumatic experiences to feed it. Nasty work."
Two. "The Hunt. Fear of being prey, being pursued, being turned on by your people. My partner's a Hunter. Daisy Tonner, if you've met her. Gets a little bit... werewolf-ey, if I'm being honest. It's one of the more straightforward ones."
Three. "The Buried. Fear of small spaces, being crushed, and... buried alive. Few different shapes of that, too. Crushed by water or dirt counts, or trapped under something, but more metaphorical things, too. Inescapable situations, poverty, crushing expectations. That sort of thing."
Four. "The Corruption. Fear of disease, filth, bugs, rot... unhealthy boundaries and toxic relationships, too. It's a pretty common one."
Five. "The Web. Covers spiders, which you'd think would be in the last one, but some of them sort of bleed together. Web's more about control and manipulation, though. Getting caught in someone else's game. Addictions, contracts, anything that keeps you doing something against your will."
Six. "The Stranger. Fear of the unknown, unfamiliar people, sort of uncanny valley type stuff. Clowns, mannequins, wax figures, taxidermy, all that sort of stuff that manages to feel not-quite-right. Had a run-in with a circus of them, trying to end the world in their own special way. We'll get into that later."
Seven. "The Vast. Falling, heights in general. Endlessness as a whole, I think. Read something at work once involving someone losing their minds from the prairies in one part of the world, and I think that ties into it. Things bigger than the mind's meant to comprehend."
Eight. "The Lonely. Fear of isolation, being cut off from society, faceless people, empty fog, that sort of thing. The idea that no one will ever understand you, and it's safer to be on your own. It's not one you really see working, because it just... makes people disappear."
Nine. "The End. Death itself. Fairly cut and dried. The fear that you, and everyone you know, someday, will die, and you can't get out of it. Usually shows up as bones, or in dreams, I've heard. Doesn't need to do too much, though."
Ten. "The Desolation. Senseless pain and destruction, destroyed potential. Think... house fires. Flash floods. Random acts of violence bleed into it a little bit, but that's more..."
Fingers curl back up, the count begins fresh. Eleven. "The Slaughter. Fear of random acts of violence without motive. Gets a lot out of war, but random serial-killings count, too. You'd think it'd be close to the Hunt, but I've always felt like they're pretty different. Hunt's got direction, cause, even if that cause is just causing that slow build-up of fear. Slaughter's not like that. Anyone it hurts, it's to make the people around it worry about the same thing happen to them."
Twelve. "The Spiral. The feeling of... you can't trust your own mind, your own senses, that someone, or even the world, is lying to you. Unreality is a word for it."
Thirteen. "The Dark. Probably the most classic one anyone can think of. It's the fear of what you can't see, and just... you know. The dark itself. What might be in it."
Fourteen. "And... last one, and the most recent, I've heard, is the Flesh. The fear of being meat for someone else's plate. Sometimes shows up as dissatisfaction with your body. A lot of fears come from animals, and this one supposedly got its own name when factory farming turned into a thing, if that explains it."
She hems and haws for a moment, before counting out an extra finger. "Some people were theorizing about a fifteenth one, the Extinction. Fear of the end of the world, or what comes after humanity undoes itself. Apocalypse sort of thing. Not sure how that one played out."
At last, she puts her hands back down. "I was in the police for a few years before I got put on the force that deals with the monsters, after seeing something I shouldn't have. That's where I met Daisy. We both wound up signed on to work at the Magnus Institute, the last job I mentioned. It was a mess, to be honest. Other monsters attacking the Institute, sometimes for revenge in the meddling done in their own things, sometimes just to throw a brake on what the Institute was doing. Which... wound up being apocalypse, by the way. Ended the world. The monsters, people, and monster-people following the Fears were trying to get the world to end in a way that reshaped it in one of the other ones, and the Eye got it first. I made it through a little bit of that before something caught me off guard, and I wound up here. Glossing over that a little bit, but it was... a lot. To put it lightly."
Capochin sits and he listens. Meets her eye, when she allows it. Nods along and takes in every detail, even as the descriptions of the Buried, the Corruption, and the Lonely knot his stomach in ways he's not fond of. The Extinction, as well, but more out of guilt than anything else. He can see why that might be up there with the rest of them.
"Yeah," he answers. "M'followin'. You're right, sounds like a lot. Can't say I lived through an apocalypse, but I came damn near close, so... I can empathize a lil' bit."
"Sorry to hear you even got close enough to a near-miss. It's not something anybody should deal with," Basira says, pausing for a short moment. "...Don't suppose you want to get into yours at all? I won't be offended if not. But it's not every day you run into somebody who gets it."
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no subject
Date: 2025-03-30 04:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-03-30 04:31 am (UTC)She's prone to this, sticking to talking about work when she's in. A little bit distant, but not in a cold way - at worst, focused and impersonal. Such is the way of things.
no subject
Date: 2025-03-30 04:59 am (UTC)"Why ya so damn far away? C'mere! I ain't gonna bite ya. What, do I smell bad?"
no subject
Date: 2025-03-30 05:11 am (UTC)There's a moment of shuffling, tucking a sandwich freshly-bitten-into back into her bag, before she's properly in Capochin's office, taking one of the chairs. Bag back to the floor, food back out, albeit uncertainly. (Since when did she get so bad at being chummy in the office? Probably some time during the apocalypse, or in the Lonely-operated Institute. She's got to brush back up on her workplace pleasantries.)
no subject
Date: 2025-03-30 05:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-03-30 05:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-03-30 08:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-03-30 08:13 pm (UTC)"Not exactly good. Similar to here, but worse," Basira starts to explain. "It's a long story. A lot of gory details in a very literal sense. But if you want to know, I can get into it. It's just not the sort of thing that's a good idea to drop into polite conversation."
no subject
Date: 2025-04-06 03:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2025-04-24 01:07 am (UTC)"...Alright," she concedes at last, leaning back in her seat and trying to recount details as clearly as possible. "For context, the world I come from had these sort of--- I don't know what they were, exactly, beyond them being outside of our dimension, influencing it, and feeding on fear. Fourteen of them, embodying something people are afraid of, and making monsters to cause that kind of fear. Sometimes people could get turned into something that feeds off fear, too, and gets a little bit of power in return. But the big ones we were working with were..."
Setting her sandwich aside, she counts them out on her fingers while she explains.
One. "The Eye. Fear of being watched, having your secrets exposed, judgement. Literal eyes, sometimes. My last job turned out to be dedicated to it, taking statements of people's traumatic experiences to feed it. Nasty work."
Two. "The Hunt. Fear of being prey, being pursued, being turned on by your people. My partner's a Hunter. Daisy Tonner, if you've met her. Gets a little bit... werewolf-ey, if I'm being honest. It's one of the more straightforward ones."
Three. "The Buried. Fear of small spaces, being crushed, and... buried alive. Few different shapes of that, too. Crushed by water or dirt counts, or trapped under something, but more metaphorical things, too. Inescapable situations, poverty, crushing expectations. That sort of thing."
Four. "The Corruption. Fear of disease, filth, bugs, rot... unhealthy boundaries and toxic relationships, too. It's a pretty common one."
Five. "The Web. Covers spiders, which you'd think would be in the last one, but some of them sort of bleed together. Web's more about control and manipulation, though. Getting caught in someone else's game. Addictions, contracts, anything that keeps you doing something against your will."
Six. "The Stranger. Fear of the unknown, unfamiliar people, sort of uncanny valley type stuff. Clowns, mannequins, wax figures, taxidermy, all that sort of stuff that manages to feel not-quite-right. Had a run-in with a circus of them, trying to end the world in their own special way. We'll get into that later."
Seven. "The Vast. Falling, heights in general. Endlessness as a whole, I think. Read something at work once involving someone losing their minds from the prairies in one part of the world, and I think that ties into it. Things bigger than the mind's meant to comprehend."
Eight. "The Lonely. Fear of isolation, being cut off from society, faceless people, empty fog, that sort of thing. The idea that no one will ever understand you, and it's safer to be on your own. It's not one you really see working, because it just... makes people disappear."
Nine. "The End. Death itself. Fairly cut and dried. The fear that you, and everyone you know, someday, will die, and you can't get out of it. Usually shows up as bones, or in dreams, I've heard. Doesn't need to do too much, though."
Ten. "The Desolation. Senseless pain and destruction, destroyed potential. Think... house fires. Flash floods. Random acts of violence bleed into it a little bit, but that's more..."
Fingers curl back up, the count begins fresh. Eleven. "The Slaughter. Fear of random acts of violence without motive. Gets a lot out of war, but random serial-killings count, too. You'd think it'd be close to the Hunt, but I've always felt like they're pretty different. Hunt's got direction, cause, even if that cause is just causing that slow build-up of fear. Slaughter's not like that. Anyone it hurts, it's to make the people around it worry about the same thing happen to them."
Twelve. "The Spiral. The feeling of... you can't trust your own mind, your own senses, that someone, or even the world, is lying to you. Unreality is a word for it."
Thirteen. "The Dark. Probably the most classic one anyone can think of. It's the fear of what you can't see, and just... you know. The dark itself. What might be in it."
Fourteen. "And... last one, and the most recent, I've heard, is the Flesh. The fear of being meat for someone else's plate. Sometimes shows up as dissatisfaction with your body. A lot of fears come from animals, and this one supposedly got its own name when factory farming turned into a thing, if that explains it."
She hems and haws for a moment, before counting out an extra finger. "Some people were theorizing about a fifteenth one, the Extinction. Fear of the end of the world, or what comes after humanity undoes itself. Apocalypse sort of thing. Not sure how that one played out."
At last, she puts her hands back down. "I was in the police for a few years before I got put on the force that deals with the monsters, after seeing something I shouldn't have. That's where I met Daisy. We both wound up signed on to work at the Magnus Institute, the last job I mentioned. It was a mess, to be honest. Other monsters attacking the Institute, sometimes for revenge in the meddling done in their own things, sometimes just to throw a brake on what the Institute was doing. Which... wound up being apocalypse, by the way. Ended the world. The monsters, people, and monster-people following the Fears were trying to get the world to end in a way that reshaped it in one of the other ones, and the Eye got it first. I made it through a little bit of that before something caught me off guard, and I wound up here. Glossing over that a little bit, but it was... a lot. To put it lightly."
A beat, and she glances over, lifting a brow.
"Are you still with me in all of that?"
no subject
Date: 2025-04-24 02:11 am (UTC)"Yeah," he answers. "M'followin'. You're right, sounds like a lot. Can't say I lived through an apocalypse, but I came damn near close, so... I can empathize a lil' bit."
no subject
Date: 2025-04-27 03:52 am (UTC)