heavymetals | ( pixie led ) inbox

[ Lessons not yet learned. Perhaps in time, Eleven will. She takes her guidance from those around her - that will be something observed soon enough. Eleven is surprisingly easy to guide - and just as easy to manipulate. To bend, to sway.

Her anger does not consume her - but whether it is the be all end all answer she believes it to be remains yet to be seen.

Erik promises. And that's good, but... adults don't always understand what that means. She looks at him with all the patience of someone about to impart great wisdom. ]

A promise is a thing you can't break.

[ She squeezes his wrist a little. Gentle. Then she nods. He is important to Laura. So... ]

I can help. I will protect you.

[ And just like that, is if they've had a whole discussion and decided on things, Eleven pulls her hand away, taking the edge of the blanket. Good talk, Erik. She gives a light tug so he will help her spread the blanket over the frame. ]

[ He doesn't say what he thinks, when she says that. That some promises are broken, that some people can't be trusted, and that he has been exactly that man, before. He's given his word only to further his own goals enough times before, and he thinks it would not matter to her if he said he believed he was doing the right thing for his people. That he was doing what was necessary.

There was always another way, another path he could have chosen, but he didn't. The path he chose instead lead him so dangerously close to a precipice, that he still wonders how he managed to come back from that.

Instead, what he does say is, with a nod— ] That's right. So you know that I mean it.

[ He certainly intends to do everything in his power to prevent that from happening. You know I can look after myself just fine, he nearly says, but instead just takes her offer in silence, as if agreeing to it, and takes the other edge of the blanket, moving it over the structure so they can finish their (clearly superior) fort. ]

[ She's not used to that being entirely true. She's the one who saves her friends, never the other way around. The adults try to protect, but there is nothing in Eleven's life nearly as strong as her. She's not invincible, and she knows it. Her power grows with every passing day, the well of power inside of her deepening. She doesn't get tired from crushing soda cans or levitating one boy anymore. She can do more. She is stronger. But her powers, able to recharge, are not unlimited at any given time.

Still... her mind is also not all too imaginative. Erik can shape metal. Eleven does not see how that will protect him from danger. She is a bit naive like that. They begin to drape the blanket over the structure. After a moment, Eleven offers: ]

I protect Laura, too. [ She slides her eyes to Erik briefly. ] I save my friends. You do not lose her.

[ To be fair, not many people here (if any at all) know the full extent of his abilities, just how much he can do with them. He's not keen to show it either, not only because there's no need to risk causing that much widespread damage, but also because he'd rather the Fae just didn't get to see that either. Call it paranoia, but Erik thinks it's perfectly justified.

He eyes El over the structure, not immediately answering, and instead finishing tucking the blanket into place before he comes closer to her. She's tiny compared to him, so he crouches down so they can be more at eye level. ]

We protect one another. That's also what friends do. [ He's not taking 'no' for an answer here. As much as he dislikes it, he knows he can't stop El from fighting any more than he could Laura, but he can damn well make sure that they know they can rely on each other for protection, no matter what. ] Because I don't want to lose you either.

[ No one is going to die. He wouldn't tolerate El sacrificing herself when there's no need or reason for it. So, this is the compromise he will accept, and he will take no alternatives.

He reaches a hand out to her, so they can shake on it. ] Deal?

[ El's face can be surprisingly sombre and impassive for a girl as young as she is - something she shares with Laura. It's never an emotionless wall, though. Her eyes, at the very least, are always expressive, and more often than not, the rest of her small face follows, growing more expressive as she gets older, as she is free.

It's therefore more than likely that Erik will be able to follow along on Eleven's little journey here, as she looks at him and tries to parse his words.

Surprise flits over her features first. Because I don't want to lose you either. She knows that there are people who care. Hopper does, and so does Joyce Byers. So do her friends. She doesn't quite understand why Erik cares, why it matters to him. She wanders if it's because she's Laura's friend, and decides for now, that this must be the answer. It hurt Mike to lose her - it would hurt Laura to lose her. Therefore, Erik does not want to lose her.

Right? Right.

But then she tracks back to the other words. We protect one another. A small frown on her face. The gears are practically visibly turning behind her big eyes. Her nose scrunches up a bit, and then her lips part in a soft 'oh'. That's also what friends do. Erik is her friend. She hadn't quite figured that out yet, with no statement on it. She looks at him, long and with a growing understand. ]

We are friends.

[ It's like a light bulb has gone off. Hearing it said to her is what makes it real. They're friends. Her and Laura. But her and Erik, too.

And that means his words matter different, too. Because he's not just some adult. She thinks on it for a moment longer, and then she nods. Erik will see it, the way she churns his words over and over and then lets them settle, the way what he tells her has just shaped the way she thinks, the way she regards the world around her.

So easily influenced, at the end of all things. ]

We protect one another.

[ She echoes it back to him. And in doing so, she speaks it into being, too. They are friends. A friend is someone you do anything for. Friends don't lie. A promises is a thing you don't break. We are not stupid. They will always see us as monsters. We protect one another. Her small but growing list of life lessons that she hoards like gifts and treasures.

She slips her hand into his with a solemn little nod. And she looks at him like he hung the moon - because he told her that he is her friend. ]

We have an accord.

[ In all fairness, she was the first to make such a connection, however distant. Because her friends call her El, and he's allowed to call her El— not that it's so simple, and he was well aware she permitted it only because of Laura, but he means what he says nevertheless. It's obviously different than being friends with Laura, or anyone else her own age, but Erik is just as determined to offer her protection, a sense of safety. Someone else she can hopefully learn to trust.

But it's still clear that it's something she struggles to work through, in every expression that flickers through her face, clear as day. He waits then, ready to accept if she decides not to agree to it (not that it's going to stop Erik from doing whatever it takes to keep both girls safe, but still), and finally smiles when she takes his hand. ]

Good.

[ He squeezes her hand after that shake, then lets go. ]

Laura likes stories. [ Real stories, not happy ones. ] We can try to get some books from the library, for your fort.

[ Some even play as though it's a movie, so it would be like a movie night for the girls. Something fun for them to do together. ]

[ Information to store away. Laura likes stories. Horses, too, Eleven has gathered that much. She has seen westerns on TV with Hopper. She knows all about horses. Books for Laura, then. Well, and for Eleven. She can read, but it's still hard, and she lacks imagination. ]

Do you read for Laura?

[ Hopper reads to her sometimes. She likes to listen to the sound of his voice. Likes that she doesn't have to listen only to repeat, like when Papa read nursery rhymes and made her parrot the words, back when she had no words of her own. He'd lost patience for that soon enough. ]

[ Erik knows they won't find familiar stories here, certainly not movies either, but there are some books at the library with stories that at least make sense to them, tales they can relate to, perhaps even compare to stories they know from home. He never paid much attention to the movie-style books, but it seems ideal for this particular instance. Laura's never had a fort, and she's never had a movie night either, he imagines. If it's a normal experience that he can make happen for her, then he will. ]

Sometimes, yes. She likes bedtime stories.

[ He hasn't really come by the room since El moved there, usually they stick to the common area, where he can read some story to her before walking her to her door, leaving her with a goodnight kiss. But it's one of those small habits that Erik has grown more and more fond of lately. ]

Do you like stories, too?

[ Does she like story? Eleven looks contemplative for a moment. ]

Hopper reads, sometimes. For bedtime.

[ It's not quite an answer to his question, of course. Eleven hasn't quite thought about whether or not she likes stories. Hopper reads them, and she listens to his voice. Enjoys the slow and steady rumble of it, when he gets calm and soft by the light of Eleven's bedside lamp.

She shrugs a shoulder. ]

I don't know.

[ It doesn't particularly surprise him if she struggles to know even that much about herself, what she might or might not like. Even from how little he knows of her background so far, it's entirely understandable. So he just nods instead, and smiles like there's absolutely nothing wrong with that.

Even if there are so many things wrong with that— but not with her. ]

I can also read for you sometime, if you want. Then you can figure out if you like it or not.

For both of us.

[ An immediate nod, eyes large and gleaming. There's a hunger there that she's too shy to put into words. She tries to hold herself so calm, to keep the eagerness contained and subtle. ]

Sometime. If Laura wants.

[ Eleven did not like seeing Mike with Max, and she doesn't have the emotional intelligence to pick those feelings apart. She recognizes that Laura shares things with her - and she never wants Laura to feel angry the way Eleven did in that moment. ]

That sounds perfect. I'll ask her.

[ He's sure Laura will agree to it, based simply on how eager she was to introduce her new friend to him. She wouldn't do that if she didn't yearn for more of these kinds of experiences, he doesn't think. ]

But let's finish your fort first. Laura will like the surprise.

[ She might not fully understand what it is, but she'll have fun regardless, he's sure. ]

[ A small nod. They drape blankets over the frame - Eleven tries really, really hard to be able to reach high enough, but concedes some of that work to Erik. With the sort of glower only children and other vertically challenged people can level at unfairly tall or long people.

She leaves the room for a moment, comes back with another pile of pillows and blankets. Did she steal those from the common room? Not an impossible assumption. But the frame is bigger than her previous, intensely poor construction, so more material is needed. ]

Did you make. Many blanket castles?

[ He's good at it. ]

[ He's going to fully ignore that look because it's definitely not his fault that he's a tower. But also she should just see that as a useful tool at her disposal, that's what tall people are good for after all.

Also he is absolutely sure that theft is how she acquired those pillows, but considering his own track record, he really can't point fingers. Let the Fae provide new pillows, like he gives a damn. ]

Not really, no. This is my first, too. We did do pretty well, didn't we?

[ It is most definitely his fault. But it is also very useful, so her petulance thankfully is kept to a bare minimum over this grave character flaw.

She's contemplative for a moment in response to his words, tugging on his arm to get him on the floor with her and help arrange the pillows inside the fort. Then she sits there for a moment, evaluating what they've created. She pokes the metal frame a little, pleased with how sturdy it is. She looks at the way the light from the window shines through the blankets, making the inside practically glow. Warm and inviting. Cozy. Safe. ]

Yes.

[ She slides an honest little smile up at him, hands him the last pillow to be placed, and then softly echoes his own words back to him: ]

Your first. Then this is for you, too.

[ Usually a blanket fort isn't a permanent thing, or at least it's the notion Erik has. This, however, is evidently made to last, and he honestly thinks it's a good addition to the room. He can't imagine either of them wanting it gone anytime soo, and he sees no reason why it should.

He kneels down and crawls into the fort, which is, thankfully, just large enough that even he can fit inside. Fluffing up the pillows, he helps scatter them somewhat evenly, a soft chuckle leaving him when El speaks again. ]

I think I'm a little old for blanket forts.

[ It's a nice sentiment, though. Of belonging, and having new experiences. That she's so willing to include him at all is sweet, and something he appreciates.

He reaches outside the fort for some of the extra blankets, stretching them out on the floor. ] There. Looks good to me.

That's stupid. You can have a blanket fort. Even though you're old.

[ Harsh, but true. What does a blanket fort have to do with age? Her tone isn't harsh, though, just very matter-of-fact. Not her fault he just said something that in Eleven's mind makes absolutely no sense. Blanket forts are for safety. But it's okay. He can still feel part of it by helping build it, and Eleven thinks Laura will like that, too. ]

Yes. Bitchin'.

[ A firm nod. Seal of approval granted. She smiles up at him with a little nod, pleased with their efforts. ]

How do you... [ She pauses. Frowns a little. Then gestures at the frame they made for the fort. ] Are you a blacksmith?

[ That... actually gets a soft chuckle from Erik. She's just basically called him old, even though he takes absolutely no offense. Her bluntness amuses him immensely. At least he won't have to worry about her not speaking her mind. ]

Bitching?

[ Sorry Eleven, you might need to teach him that one.

He looks at the frame he's just built, shaking his head at her guess. ]

No. I'm a mutant. It's a new species of human. All of my people have unique abilities— that's what Laura is, too.

Bitchin'.

[ Yeah she's correcting you on that, Erik. Take that g out of her 80s slang, please and thank you. ]

It means... looks good.

[ Is that what it means? She genuinely doesn't know. Nobody explained, she just took the context clue and ran with it. ]

Species. [ Eleven has been wondering about that. ] Laura told me about mute ants. She wanted to know. If I'm a mute ant, too.

[ He lets out a hum, like he understands but not really. He's old, as she eloquently put it. He's not going to go around using hip slang from the 80's. ]

Mutants. [ An important correction. ] It's just one single word. And you are that if you have a... something special in your body. Your cells. Do you know what those are?

[ He's guessing no, but it's worth asking regardless. ]

[ She nods, understanding the correction perfectly, and then she repeats: ]

Mute Ants.

[ She's not even being a little shit on purpose here. Not yet at least. She nudges those two words much closer together this time at least. It's... still not really quite right. ]

No. Is it about powers?

[ There's just a moment there where Erik stares, closes his eyes, then takes a deep breath. Something tells him he'll only frustrate himself further if he keeps trying to correct her without some (much needed) knowledge on the basis of that word, so he lets it go for now. ]

Not really, no. Every living creature is made of cells. They're these very small things, so small that you can't even see them with your eyes, but many of them come together to shape us. Our bodies are made up of all these cells, and inside them there is something called DNA. It's like... a code, that makes us look the way we do. If we're tall or short, if we have dark or light hair, the color of our skin. And among my kind, that code has something else that's different. A mutation, which is the change of something in that code, and that's what gives us our abilities.

[ He starts talking, and she... tries to listen, promise. It works for a while. Erik is pleasant to listen to. The content of his words... not so much. There's a very obvious moment when her attention starts to slide sideways, when she starts picking at the edge of a blanket, until halfway through his speech, she just actually breaks eye contact to look away, fluffing up a pillow.

It sounds like he's telling her there are small ants in everyone's bodies, and she thinks that's pretty stupid. She also doesn't get why ants need secret codes, or why secret codes make people look a certain way. Maybe it's like morse code.

The too long, failed to listen takeaway is: Mute Ation is a change and it makes people powerful. ]

Too many words.

[ You're welcome for this peer review of your Ted Talk, Erik. To Eleven, he's just like Tony in this regard. Maybe people who work with metal just like to talk a lot?

She looks back up at any rate. ]

Am I a Mute-Ant?

[ He can tell he's lost her about halfway through, though he still finishes, or tries before she's actually just creating other distractions, clearly not paying attention anymore.

He's somewhere between frustrated and endeared by it, but all he does is smile, take a deep breath, then lift his shoulders at her question. ]

You might be. I don't know.

[ There might be ways to find out. Hank probably could. But is it really important if it's in her genes? ]

Would you like to be?

[ Adults can be so... good, and so frustrating. More than anything, she just wants him to tell her. Why does he not know, if he knows all about cells and his people? How come he cannot look at her and determine if she is his people?

Eleven opens her mouth. It works silently for a moment, then snaps shut. She blows out a frustrated breath. Words are hard at the best of times; harder when she's feeling unsettled about something.

A shrug, after a moment. The gesture is almost sullen. ]

I don't know.

[ That's not quite true. She doesn't know how to articulate what's swimming in her mind. ]

Maybe I am... different. Not like Laura. And you. And Charles. And Pyro. [ She pronounces it Pie Row. ]

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