theyralfo | (no subject)

In hindsight, putting "Renegade" on this mix was probably a bad choice^•.

The reasoning had been relatively sound. Who didn't enjoy the slow build, the rocking chorus that made it feel like everything was possible if you had the right soundtrack? The mood had struck her and the next thing she'd known, she'd been dragging it into the playlist. Someone was bound to appreciate it. That Anathema just knew to be true.

Headphones tucked in her ears, she was on her way to get herself a drink to congratulate herself on yet another brilliant set of horoscopes, each different and catered to the six different publications that she was employed by. Getting a proper job with regular hours was something she kept meaning to get to, but hadn't yet. It was on the list. Somewhere after organizing her sock drawer, she swore.

Humming along to the song, she followed the familiar steps, stepping around people a moment just a moment before they ran into her, ducking around delivery men and shoppers without losing a beat. She knew where the Book was (in her flat for once, locked in a drawer, key tied around her neck), knew which drink she was starting with (a Dark & Stormy, seasons be damned) and had a fairly good start on knowing which books were going to be on the best seller's list (three years from now).

Still, even foresight and practicality had their limits. These limits occasionally liked to rub themselves in Anathema's face by causing her to step just a moment too late out of someone's way, six steps from the pub she was after. Collisions had to happen somewhere and this was more abrupt than most.

Pulling her headphones down, she grinned brilliantly up at the tall, handsome man she'd walked into. "Sorry about that," she offered, hand slipping around to hit pause on her CD player. "I'm not normally the stumbling into men type. You caught me off guard."

• Or it had been an incredibly right one. The jury was still out on that one. They'd taken a long lunch and showed no real sign of returning.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Depends on what else is on it," Peter replies,. He's not exactly up on every single piece of music that came out in the Eighties, and he's apparently missed almost thirty years worth of stuff at this point, but that doesn't mean he doesn't get to be picky.

"One bad song could ruin the whole thing."

"Naturally. That's why I'm testing it out."

Just because it seemed like a good idea at the time didn't mean that it would hold up to scrutiny in the field. She didn't want it to fall apart, regardless of the mix's eventual owner. That part was still rather to be determined, dependent on a sort of inspiration that had not yet struck. "This one has Renegade sitting next to Another One Bites the Dust which might be a bit too on the nose. But I couldn't help it, you know?"

Peter's talking as though he's an expert on mixtapes. Compared to most people he's met since he was eight, he is, but really there's just been that one his mom gave him. Not that anyone else has to know that, though.

"Yeah, yeah, definitely," Peter says, and then finally extends a hand for her to shake, "Peter Quill. People call me Star-Lord."

With a fluid gesture, Anathema switched off her CD player before taking his hand and giving it a shake. A wry smile took up residence on her face, matched with a sly quirk of her eyebrow as she looked up at him. "Do they really?" she asked, already very certain of the answer to her own question.

But plucking wayward notions from people's heads was rude to start with. Saying something about it typically was a last ditch effort. "Pleasure to meet you. I'm Anathema Device."

"Yeah. Yeah they do. Why wouldn't they?" Peter says, taking offense, even though people still refuse to. It's not weird to have an outlaw name. Lots of people have outlaw names. No one ever asks Ronan if his real name is Ronan, but apparently Star-Lord's super weird.

So's 'Anathema', come to think of it.

"People really call you Anathema?" he asks.

"Unfortunately, yes. Tried to be an Ana once, when I was seven. It didn't stick."

Anathema was well-acquainted with the fact that her name was rather odd, the definition of it ill-suited for anyone let alone a little girl. Agnes Nutter's words had provided a great deal of comfort that it was fun and she'd be perfectly well despite her name right up until the end of days.

She shrugged. "Anathema's not the sort of name one picks for herself. Unlike Star-Lord. That's a title more than anything. Lord of Stars, that sort of thing. Unless you are, then I beg pardon."

"No offense taken," Peter says, even though Anathema hasn't said 'no offense'. It seems kind of implied.

Besides, he didn't pick the name himself. not that she know that or that he's about to say as much, but the point still stands.

"Besides, if the name doesn't stick, you've gotta make it stick.