She'd Suppose That Would Be True ... If Not For The Fact That She Knew That One Way Or Another, Someone

She was, important to her, yes, but not in the sense that the other might realize. It was drilled into her head, more less violently, that she should avoid the past. It would help diminish any hope that those who loved her mirrored appearance and not just that, but any questions of memories that may or may not of been her own. "You are," Arie mumbled, eyes flickering to look anywhere else than the woman who looked at her as if she held the key for not world peace, but a peace of mind for the woman herself. WHY HAD THEY SENT HER HERE OF ALL PLACES? The only answer that registered in her mind was unfathomable. It only followed with another that seemed less but still concerning never the less. Destroy the part of her that wasn't her, or destroy the part that was. She was able to adapt easily; she could very well become Aretha Hatzi. Was that the goal? Or the opposite... Her head swam.

Her fingers itched to type. Her legs shook with the need to flee. "Before then... All I could remember was Arie," But Aretha, it seemed, came later. "Sometimes, I think, I saw you when I dreamt but I never knew what it meant." It came out choked and true, even if she only learned later on. This was her other half, whether she willingly stole it or not. "I'm sorry I didn't remember completely."

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck ! They were going to blame this on her if it weren't some fucked up way of telling her what she wouldn't admit. There wasn't some small possibility in the void of existence that told her this was a good thing, much less unplanned thing. "I'm not much of a joker these days," came in a serious voice, which is more or less of a lie. There were only some she was close to in a town like this, listed under her broadcast engineering job as Aretha ... something. Hatzi would've been too on the nose. It didn't matter. They weren't names she grew attached to much less cared for. Hashtag, although given by the Dead Idol, was her chosen nickname. In some ways, it was a safety blanket at the end of the day. She liked Rita though, given to her by her boss. Meow, by Ziggy, that sounded peculiarly like MOM. "You know my name." Her voice is soft. Distant almost. As if she's searching memories, no matter how pretensive it was. "You're ---... You're important to me, right?" Or rather were, once upon a time, as if she hadn't suddenly thought to pretend I DON'T REMEMBER YOU. What else could she do?

"Did we know each other before the Daniels adopted me?" Random name, but hey, she couldn't very well call herself Aretha Hatzi. Someone might notice and not keep the assumption that the woman wasn't missing or declared dead after being missing for so long. "Or the Scaredy Cat? It was probably the Scaredy Cat."

Emerald Haywood + outfits

Americans and their need to join one thing with another ... but never mind the fact that she herself didn't have a specific citizenship, The one in Greece was sketchy at best considering Aretha Hatzi was presumed dead anyway. Pretty sure she'd be dead in absentia by this point; but Arie hadn't given much thought to look into the woman's life all that much in a few years. Ice cream and coffee? Two very opposite things and yet, she had to admit, the smell was nice at least. That didn't stop her from ordering a large coffee, black, two sugars.

Minding her business would be easier if people didn't randomly speak into existence a conversation, even if it wasn't really for her. "Depends, pal. How many cups have you had so far?" Arie wondered, doing some calculation of just how much caffiene would kill a man who looked as sleep deprived as he said. "I'm surprised quite frankly. Don't most brains shut off the need to sleep for awhile at some point? That's not to mention the fact that you'll start slipping into micro naps eventually." Which could suck, if he's driving.

LOCATION: THE CREAMERY ICE CREAM & COFFEE BAR @anchoragestarters ( no cap )

Getting arrested on suspicion of... something, was rather rare for Matevos, even if he led a life of crime on the side. He more often got off with a warning or he managed to avoid getting caught all together. This time was different, but he didn’t try to think about it too much. Because he did wonder what had happened to Fallon and Rei. He knew they weren’t responsible, that was such an out-of-this-world idea that even the fact that they had been accused was laughable. Still. 

Part of him felt like he hadn’t given his ruse his all, worried that he could’ve done more to make sure they were let go just like him.

He ordered another coffee and downed it like a man possessed, leaning his full body on the table and staring at the empty coffee cup. “At what time do you think caffeine stops working? I’ve been awake for 72 hours and I’m not sure this is doing what I want it anymore.”

❀ *◦ keke palmer. female. she/her. bisexual. ⇝ hey, isn’t that aretha hatzi( hashtag )? i think that the twenty-seven year old from meteora, greece works as a hacker for the order of the dead idol, but outside of that people describe them as late nights spent staring at the computer, hanging out in shady diners, no care for which version of themselves is seen next. i hear they are secretive & distant, but they are also known to be warm & lyrical. consider giving them a visit at their home in the seal harbor apartments and get to know why they’re called the black sheep.

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

FULL NAME: Arethra Mae Hatzi ALIAS | NICKNAMES: Hashtag (to those who know or come across her work), Arie, Aretha Daniels. BIRTHDAY | AGE: COMING SOON, 27. BIRTH LOCATION | CITIZENSHIP: Unknown, unknown. | Greek citizenship, in a way. CURRENT LOCATION: Anchorage, Alaska. SEXUALITY: Bisexual. SPOKEN LANGUAGES: English, Greek, Spanish, German, Chinese, Turkish and some other various languages. OCCUPATION | DEGREES: Hacker for the Dead Idol. | Broadcast Engineer for 107.5 BLACK DRAGON PEARL RADIO. | None. IQ | ETC: While not technically tested for IQ as a miroir, Hashtag is quick to learn technological things and thinks of her brain as a super computer. It's the reason she was able to become a hacker compared to any other skill sets -- and she believes the real Aretha must've been highly intelligent. PERSONALITY: She can be well spoken and almost lyrical -- but that's because in a way, she's speaking in code. While she might live in the world's shittiest apartment complex, she is warm despite how secretive she can be behind closed doors. If you ever need a meal, she'll cook you something, or invite you to her favorite dinky diner for a meal on her. Despite that, for every inch she gives someone, there's a few feet between the truth and reality. FAVORITE ANIMAL: Cats. All the cats. In fact, for the first time in Hashtag's existence, she finally has a cat.

𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

Imagine opening your eyes, empty inside of emotion and memory. Now imagine being told you're someone, but you're really not. You're a mirrored image of someone who went missing -- you are them, on the surface. A clone of a life that would never be yours, or you. You're tested to find your skillset, settling on computers. In fact, it comes all too naturally to you when your fingers type. Your eyes can see the faults in codes most cannot and somewhere along the way, you create a super worm virus capable of bringing down governments IF SOMEONE REALLY WANTED YOU TO. So you keep that tucked away for a rainy day, going where you're told like the perfect technological solider they want you to be.

𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

Flash forward to now, stepping out of a car that dropped you outside of the shittiest set of apartments you've ever seen. There was an order to stay here, waiting in the shadows until your skillset comes in handy once more. Get a job, make friends, blend in with the masses. Yet you start to think you're crazy when you get flashes, however brief they are, of a life you know isn't yours; not aware that the life you've never lived is just around the corner. A meeting of chance, or a stroke of luck, but you've never been lucky. No, if anything you're screwed.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ⌿ 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃

Arissa Hatzi -- TO BE PLOTTED. It's gonna be angsty, don't worry. Grab a thing of popcorn and gather around for the shitshow.

Those involved with the radio station -- whether they work together or deal with each other in passing, these people probably look to her for help as a broadcast engineer, or there's a caller who happened upon her on a smoke break and asked her a question or two while they were sneaking around.

Someone she butts heads with often -- Most people don't ask too many questions. They certainly don't put much thought into certain actions, but from day one, these two have fought each other on everything. Maybe they've actually thrown hands? Whatever it is, it's like fire and gasoline.

Someone she helps with computers -- Did you use your school computer to look up spicy subjects, and now have a nasty virus on it? Did you find a code that's suspicious? Do you not know what technology is? Whatever the case is, this person always hits her up for computer help and she's always down to answer the call.

Someone she talks conspiracies with -- How these two met, no one really knows, but whenever they're together, they're always hush hush whispering in the corner or in a booth. In a way, this is as truthful as she'll allow herself to be with someone even if it's battling the idea of a giant moth man fighting a yeti.

Someone who is aware, or sort of aware, they both are miroirs -- Maybe they trained together or maybe they met along the way on some mission or attack. Maybe they aren't aware and Hashtag has to break the news. Whatever the case, I need semi-best friends trauma bonding.

She gave a small but mischievous smile. "I wasn't suggesting YOU, but I hear you." Chances are if she was having a bad day, you'd probably be able to convince her to smash someone's windows out. She'd be sneakier about it though -- as sneaky as someone who needed to stay hidden could be, anyway. "Kind of both? I'm not used to small towns where everybody knows everybody. It's definitely a change for me." Arie admitted, leaning back in her seat to point at the brilliant idea. "Me either, but I'll find someone. Just watch. It needs to happen." Hell, maybe she'd fund it. Just because she lived in a sketchy apartment didn't mean she didn't have money. Whether through the station, the Dead Idol or side gigs on the internet ... Mum's the word. "I keep the show going and up to date, computer and technical wise. Some days I set up the live broadcasts. Most nights, I'm making sure quality issues aren't just a cord issue or a software issue." she admitted, voice somewhat filled with pride. "I'm sure your job is much more fun though." As for her wants in an animal, she gave a small shrug. "I get that. I like cats because sometimes I'm not home for too long and I don't have to take them out every few hours for a walk. It seems I have less time these days." But to the question of the matter, she wasn't entirely sure. "Maybe. I have a tuxedo named Ziggy and I don't know, think maybe he needs a buddy but I also know some cats just don't mix well."

Matevos - who did not not enjoy violence - really had to think about the offer. Smashing things did sound like a fun thing to do, and he could use something to get his mind off of things, but then there was the fact that vandalism was against the law and he’d only just come out of police custody. “Mentally, I’d say, it definitely is the type of situation where I’d gladly take you up on that offer. But I promised to stay out of trouble, and I think smashing someone’s car windows is the exact opposite of that.” He looked thoughtful at the other when the ‘vaguely familiar’ was uttered, and then grinned. “You mean you think you know them? Or you think you know someone like them?” he asked, because he was always a little curious when people spoke in vague terms. Not just when they used the word ‘vaguely’. “Someone should, I would make it into a comic… sadly I don’t know how to draw.” Or write stories, or even how to come up with them. Though he would love to make a story about superhero dogs, had that been done already? “Aah engineer,” he said, as if he knew exactly what that meant, though confusion was clear on his face. “What does a broadcast engineer do?” He knew Dusty and Sera, though not as intimately as perhaps he should in a small town like this. “A few yes, I keep mostly dogs, since cats tend to find a home much quicker. People have different expectations for dogs. Are you looking for a cat?” 

The guy's poor heart, she thought, before thinking about what it could do to his brain. "I wouldn't worry now. I'd worry if you keep doing it; that all catches up to you eventually." But maybe she's wrong and wouldn't she know it? IF SHE KNEW THE TRUTH, she'd be less concerned with whether he'd drop dead from a heart attack or his brain deciding to shut down. "Just don't go micronapping and find yourself in some weird situation. This place is weird enough as it is." Maybe it's weird, maybe she's had too many people asking her deep things that she finds herself not asking, not because she's not curious, but because she hated the twenty questions herself. If he wanted to tell her why he was worried, he could. She wouldn't push. "Woe is you," Arie let out a little laugh before extending a hand, "I'm Arie. You'd see me more, probably, if I didn't find myself devoted to my job at the radio station. So Woe, is that a middle name? Is your first name Doom?"

Matevos looked at the stranger, frowning, then made an effort to shrug. “A few,” he said. “Probably about ten every twenty-four hours,” he guessed. “Definitely eight every twenty-four hours.” He was making the same calculation, trying to figure out if he could kill himself with caffeine and if he should be worried. His heart was beating rapidly, yes. But also… he wasn’t technically human, he wasn’t sure if this was going to affect him the same way as it would the original Matevos Hakobyan. “I did have a few micro naps here and there,” he said. “But you know, it’s kind of hard… too much worrying,” he added. “Not that I have nightmares, but I always wake up again.” He sighed. “Oh woe is me.” He paused, let his head lean on his hands. “And who is you?” 

WHO: Arissa @couldvebccn WHERE: THE CREAMERY ICE CREAM & COFFEE BAR.

She was tired, so tired she almost found herself in the same predicament as someone she spoke to earlier that week -- but whatever his reason had been, hers was different. Between working at the station and spending most of her time on her computer elsewhere, she felt like she could take a nap and only be rested if it had been a month rather than a few hours. She'd probably do that once she finished the code she had been working on but for now? On her fourth cup of coffee, she reached out to give someone a fist bump. Arie knew the person but the voice seemed far away rather than passing her on the way to get something for themselves. "Chill out on the coffee, Are. You'll never sleep again." they teased her and her heavy head shook no, shoulders shrugging. "I'll sleep when I'm dead." Bad joke? Too soon? Ah, whatever.

The person mumbled and Arie looked up at them only for her eyes to meet someone else's. A familiar person with a set of eyes peculiarly similar to her own. In fact, she couldn't ask why because she already knew. Of all places the powers of the Dead Idol could stick her, they chose the place with Aretha Hatzi's sister. The sister she looked like and DNA wise WAS. They hadn't told her much about Aretha, just the basics, the rest she learned by deep diving Aretha's entire existence from birth down to the potential second she disappeared off the face of the Earth. She'd be lying if she had said she didn't check in on the Hatzis, including Arissa, from time to time, but it was less frequent than it had been when she first started. "Do I know you?" is all that she found herself managing to ask, coffee cup lingering around her mouth. If she ran now, someone would definitely notice.

hair, tongue, fingers

Hair: How many wigs do you own?

Arie has a collection of wigs in different colors but she prefers her red wigs the most. x, x.

Tongue: What was in your last meal?

What is in Shrimp Ramon noodles anyway? She'll have to look that up.

Fingers: Do you play an instrument?

She plays the piano. In fact, she likes playing modern music on the piano the most.

"Oh," came out softly, lips pursing in a sort of thoughtful way. "is it a kind of smash the windows out of someone's car or worse? Because let me know, I got a bat." Was she kidding? Maybe, maybe not. The good thing was the fact that she wasn't judging, or maybe it was weird that she wasn't. Who knows? Social situations weren't her favorite thing. She preferred the company of a computer to most; besides the lucky few she actually liked. "You are totally right about that. I just can't get over the fact that people are VAGUELY familiar to me." That's not the entire accurate explanation as to why certain people seemed to vibrate at certain wavelengths in her vision but she didn't explain it. "Doom Woe sounds pretty badass if you ask me. Someone should get on that." What would his superpower be? In her luck, it would just be a slightly mysteriously annoying figure, but wouldn't it be fun if a TV show could warp to the individual viewer? "You wouldn't know my voice. I'm the broadcast engineer so I'm behind the scenes, just like I like it. Dusty and Sera needed someone to step in when little Crash was born, so when they let me, I keep things running smoothly." Learning that he was a vet sparked something in her, so she curiously asked, "You're a vet huh? Got any cats needing a home by chance?" Sure, there were shelters, but Arie also knew some vets kept pets who needed medical help with them while looking for homes, if possible.

“Ooh, well, this is a special situation,” Matevos said, though he’d be lying if he said it was the first time. He’d had special situations before. “A friend of mine is in a very terrible predicament and I can’t do anything to help her,” he said, with a sigh. “Anchorage you mean?” He asked, a tired grin replacing his worried expression. “You wouldn’t be wrong, but such a fun place as well.” He looked confused at the response and shook his head. “Doom Woe? Is that a tv character or something?” He lay the British accent on thick, just to make sure he wasn’t missing something as a Brit. “Matevos, though Doom would be a much cooler name. What do you do at the radio station? Presentor? Maybe I should know your voice, we have the radio on constantly in the waiting room of my practice. I’m a vet.”

Emotions weren't something she was taught per say but rather something she was taught could drive someone's choices. While the powers that be didn't tell her not to feel, she knew better than to admit she had any feelings out loud. Maybe she was stubborn, one way or another, imbedded in her stolen DNA. It would be better for all involved if she didn't feel anything for them in the end -- and yet there she was with a sort of pink in her cheeks that might admit embarrassment for being so into what she was doing that she hadn't noticed past the sense of familiarity. "I'm sorry that I was so focused on my work that I couldn't see you," which seemed genuine and if not key in the fact that she was flirting with them. "I'm Arie and I promise I'm not as rude as I seem." and despite the fact that she had, had a few shoots of Tequila already, she wasn't drunk. Warm maybe but one of the perks of being a mirroir was that she wasn't like most people. "Care to dance, Suraj? I bet you've got a few moves in you."

Suraj had a way of spending their weekend nights in clubs. It wasn’t because they had any type of dancing ability, or that they loved alcohol. Both were very untrue. They didn’t drink, they danced but only when they were pulled onto the dancefloor. It was mostly that they could disappear into the crowds, feel safe for a moment among the many sweating bodies. They were an introvert, but that didn’t matter when they could barely hear anyone anyway. And that was the best thing about going to the club, there was rarely much talking involved. They didn’t even tense up when someone leaned closer to them. “Oh uhm… you spend late nights at the diner where I work,” they said in response, smiling, because Suraj’s main point of contact was their service job. They’d seen her typing away on her laptop some nights, and they’d always wondered about what she did. But she’d seemed so invested that they hadn’t dared to ask, but it was inspiring. They always felt like they made much more progress on their film script if they’d spend the evening watching her work. "I'm Suraj," they introduced themselves.