3391/A Visit Home

A Visit Home
Date of Scene:	16 September 2020
Location:	The Beacon Household
Synopsis:	Orphan (Cassandra Cain) investigates a teammate's home turf for security concerns, ends up getting a lesson on where peas come from, and gets to put a flower crown on an old dog.
Cast of Characters:	Phoebe Beacon, Cassandra Cain

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Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe Beacon had announced in the afternoon that she had to make her way back to the house to grab something, and anyone was welcome to come along. She hadn't really expected anyone to come, but had made her way to the aging, narrow brownstone that was the Beacon household. The front door was rounded and painted a cheery blue, with an almot nautical porthole of frosted glass. The front stoop has a variety of potted herbs marked 'free' - next to a pair of kitchen sheers sheathed in a plastic holder. Rosemary, oregano, parsley, and strong, garlic-smelling chives. There was one bay window in the front, barred because -- well, Gotham.

    There is a fire escape set up, and suspiciously placed turned bricks -- almost like hand and foot holds -- along the back of the house, leading up to more windows on each of the three floors, and then a skylight where Phoebe's room was. She'd mentioned that's how she got in and out of the house on her patrols.

    The back yard is smallish, but well tended -- and not a blade of grass past a little landing pad at the back stoop. Every square inch is taken up either by raised beds, by garden beds under the raised beds, pathways, and even hanging pots off the backs of the fence. It's back here that Phoebe is working, wearing mud-splattered, stained jeans and a T-shirt, her hair carefully pulled back and in a do-rag. An old dalmatian with faded spots lounges in the sun nearby on the grass.

Cassandra Cain has posed:
The blessed afternoon sun, so rare in Gotham at times, bears witness to Phoebe's first visitor of the day. Though neither Phoebe nor her gorgeous old fluffers would see; it came in downwind and by design. A tiny motion suggests that someone flits past the windows, and moments later the roof entry point is touched. Eyes with nothing in them flicker about, then are gone.

The house is inspected; after a moment the dalmation might raise an ear, sharp senses still even in its older years. It makes the visitor smile, that Phoebe would have a guardian even now. But the sound of a foot on the path behind them both is purposeful. She didn't have to be heard. She wants it, and she's smilng at the puppy.

All dogs are puppies. Forever.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Scout would agree. He is a puppy forever, even in his advanced age, he lumbers up on moderately stiff legs, gives a mighty shake of his self, and gives out just a little, questioning 'boof?' not quite a full bark at Cassandra, but Phoebe would straighten up, one hand on a terra cotta flower pot and ready to throw with aim and intent -- when she sees who it is.

    And she blinks a moment. "Ah... Cassandra?" she gives a smile, and sets down the flower pot.

    "Of all the places to see you out in the open, wasn't expecting my back yard." she explains her surprise.

Cassandra Cain has posed:
Walking up and crouching, Cassandra first clears her presence with Scout. He is the one who spotted her first so he gets offered her hand to sniff. She has a deep, quiet patience and lets him perform his duties properly, not answering Phoebe until Scout has allowed her to be near his mistress.

Then, however, she turns and smiles up to Phoebe. She has on a t-shirt, black as she tends to wear, and some otherwise featureless pants. Having not given a 'hunter' scent, she is allowed to stay with only a courtesy 'boof' from Scout. He has judged.

Then she offers the hand to Phoebe, for different reasons. Still not a talker it seems. But she says so much.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Scout is satisfied that it's not the scent he was barking at weeks ago. And he sits down. Phoebe makes her aproach, leaning down to rffle the old dog's head as his tail wags tiredly. "She's a friend, Scout," the dark-eyed girl states to the dog, and then gives a smile to Cass, and looks up at the house. The door hadn't opened. Caroline Beacon wold have called out if she'd come through the front.

    "Coming to make sure I'm about as interesting outside as I am inside, huh?" she questions playfully to Cassandra, and then looks to her. "Or... are you hurt again?"

Cassandra Cain has posed:
Cassandra takes Phoebe's dirty hand if she's allowed to do so. She doesn't hold it, but just that touch seems important to her. However there's a difference in looks as well. When Phoebe talks to Scout, she doesn't look up. When she speaks to -her-, she rivets her gaze on the woman. She knows, at the very least, when she's being spoken to. Too bad it's always unclear how much is getting through.

Licking her lips, Cassandra pauses. She stops smiling a moment and then seems to, almost, be getting ready to talk. She glances around self-consciously, something she's NEVER done, and then looks back to Phoebe when she sees that they're alone.

"I..." she starts. Closing her eyes, she tries again. This is apparently hard. "I..over?" She mimes an arc, up and then down, then points to the house. She's trying! Her voice sounds so rough though, as if she rarely uses it for anything.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe does grip Cass's hand a moment, getting just a little dirt on it, and she looks up at the house as Cassandra explains. Her lips purse a moment, and she gives a slight nod.

    "You climbed over the house?" Phoebe gives a slight nod "Checking the place out, huh?" she gives a smile, and motions around the yard. "Well, welcome to Casa del Beacon, my house, my home, my garden." she gives a genuine smile to the fighter.

    Scout, assuming that friends give pets, sits on Cassandra's foot, as if insisting something happen. HIs ears prick forward.

Cassandra Cain has posed:
Cassandra Cain is nothing if not good at reading body language. The slight nod is a speech, she admires the affection Phoebe has for her home, and those she loves. She automatically hunches down, wrapping the pup up in a gentle hug before stroking his sides. Pups are not to be denied their rightful due after all.

Motioning to the house, Cass lapses back into her nonverbal habits. It's so much easier after all. She stops though, looking at what Phoebe was interrupted in doing. Her face is mildly hilarious; she looks as if she's never seen a garden before. The 'what?' is on her lips; the don't need to move.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Scout wags, giving happy grumbly sounds that partially-deaf dogs that can't regulate their volume well give off, and happily gets loving from Cassandra, licking at her hands and face.

    "Oh, well, this is -- ah." Phoebe rubs the back of her neck, her cheeks darkening as she looks embarrassed.

    "I practice out here. The thing I do." she explains, and she reaches into a tangled mass of vines and leaves, plucking a few things from a framework of wide-gauge wire fencing.

    "I garden, grow plants. Some of it's food, some of it's herbs or medicinal stuff, some flowers." she explains, and then she holds out a handful of freshly picked pea-pods to Cassandra."Want to try some fresh off the vine?"

Cassandra Cain has posed:
Cass stands as she's released, listening with her eyes. She looks wherever she's directed, watching Phoebe's hands as they speak. The embarrassed blush isn't made much of; she just smiles and lets it go.

She pauses when she's offered the peas, turning to look at Phoebe directly in the eyes. She seems to have an intensity about it, her gaze taking in more than just an offer for nummy veggies. She looks on quietly, her hands coming out to take a couple. Not all that were offered, but the smile that touches her lips is hesitant.

She generally doesn't eat when others offer food at the Rook; Phoebe may or may not have noticed.

She lifts one, whole, to her mouth. When she places it inside and chews, she does so with the soft intensity of a wine taster at a priveliged moment. And she lets her eyes drift, as if this is the most important thing.

She pauses, then looks down with excited ....something? Her body seems different. She touches her lips, looks at Phoebe again, then touches Phoebe's hands. She nods, then nods again. "FOOD!" she says, the word not the gesture. Nods a third time.

How much sense it made is up to Phoebe's skills of translation, but there it is.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "Yeah, that's right. I grow food in my backyard. Not enough to actually donate or feed a whole group, but maybe someday I can get something going. These are sugar peapods, I've got some tomatoes, peppers, some hot peppers in hungarian wax and I'm giving giant jalapenos another try--" Phoebe trails off as she motions to the different areas of the garden, and then comes down a moment, to some brightly colored daisies, and she plucks one up -- in bright sunshine yellow, and offers it to Cass.

    "Not food, but pretty, like you." she gives a wry grin.

Cassandra Cain has posed:
Phoebe gently missing the point is fine; Cassandra is used to people not grasping the whole of her intentions. She hunches down a little, gazing at places with food growing on them. It fascinates her a little, how food doesn't just appear on your plate. It has to be made. Never thought about it before.

Or, you know. Stolen from someone else's plate.

She keeps looking up when Phoebe fills the gaps with conversation, taking in the lady's meaning. But when she's called pretty, she stills. She pauses visibly, looking up at Phoebe with thoughtful eyes. The smile is gone, but there is no frown replacing it. Merely a moment of listening more intently, before she reaches to accept the daisies.

Which she doesn't seem to know what to do with. She starts to raise them to her mouth, uncertainly...

Nobody's ever given her flowers?

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    "A-ah -- they are edible -- but--" Phoebe states, and her eyes go wide as Cassandra brings them to her mouth, and Phoebe's hand reaches out to very gently touch against Cassandra's wrist. She holds up her other hand, and gives a bright smile, and then kneels down to where Cassandra had been gazing at the places with food growing in them -- Scout reclines back to relaxing on his patch of grass, giving a soft huff at the exclaimation.

    Phoebe has more daisies -- of the regular, Shasta variety -- growing on their long stalks. Taking out a pair of clippers from her utility belt (... or, rather, a gardening apron), she clips a couple of stalks, and then she sits on one of the raised bed walls, and begins to weave the stalks together.

    "Mind you, pretty much everything in this part of the garden can be food. Rose hips can make good tea, and have a lot of vitamin C in them, you can sugar daisies and float them in soups or use them on cakes -- buuuut these ones --" she comments, plucking a couple more bright colored flowers, red and orange and yellow, and weaves them into the plait of daisies, and she fashions a loop of the flowers -- which she very carefully looks to place on Cassandra's head.

    "These ones are for wearing."

Cassandra Cain has posed:
The impossibility of someone with such a reputation for combat being stunned by a wreath of daisies on the top of her head should be unexpected, but she's shown no such thing since arriving. She seems to be so simple, a quiet girl with no idea what is going to happen, and in many ways it is true. Innocence is a word worth knowing. She was never taught.

She pulls back as soon as the garland is in place, turning her head to look up. She stands, she starts to twirl and then second-guesses the impulse, eyes always looking up. Then she suddenly grins, and spins in place with abandon!

A dance. She dares to dance, eyes closed, as if noone were watching, and the quick gentle pivot barely rustles the flowers on her head. She has her center in place, she wants them to stay. Until she lowers her head and the motion sends them to her hand. Catching them without trying, she dances so well.

But it passes, and she's panting for air after a simple turn. Not from exertion, but from joy.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Simplicity in its finest is something to be enjoyed, and innocence is something that never quite leaves.

    Phoebe sits back on the retailing wall as Cassandra draws back, her own eyebrows rising up, her own dark eyes lighting up as Cassandra twirls in place, and Phoebe gives just the biggest smile as the other girl dances in place, twirling with the kelidascope of white, red, orange and yellow on her head, and that joy is palpable -- Phoebe couldn't help but smile at that simple moment of utter joy, a girl wearing a flower crown in someone's back yard, dancing without a care in the world.

    She wanted to capture it with a camera. To post that on her blog and show that hope, and joy, and the best and most simple emotions were possible in Gotham -- but it wold ruin the moment. Instead, she lets Cassandra steal as much time as she needs.

    "... I could bring you flowers any time you needed them." she finally says after a moment's pause, quiet in the confines of that small backyard garden. "... you deserve to feel that way."

Cassandra Cain has posed:
No words. She barely has any, her heart not needing them. She could learn to talk, she -should- learn to talk, but she's never felt the urge to try. There's a simple honesty in her, something that language might take away. She has never lied or so much as told a falsehood. Now is no different; she is happy, and that is all.

A hunching down and then the dalmation is wearing the flower crown, placed there by hands with the speed of a gentle touch. The puppy, for all dogs are puppied forever, might be confused. But no scent of danger came with it. Just the smile in her heart.

Without it though, she is too dark. She stands and the world seems to expect her to be this way. She turns, her face hesitant. Then she looks at her hands, empty of the flowers she wants in them. And the smile...fades. That might be a no, or a confession. It's hard to say.

But it is, at least, honest.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe watches as the crown is placed on Scout, his ears flicking in momentary confsion, and then the spotted dog resigns to be pretty, and with a nose nudges Cassandra's hand, then sits back down on his patch of grass, content with the attention. There is no danger here, no cruelty.

    Phoebe stands, wiping her hands off on her patched-up jeans as she makes her way over to Cassandra, and looks at the shorter young woman. She offers her hands to her, quietly, her lighter palms showing no scars, not even the callouses that usually come with training, with gardening, their way of life. Not even the roughness from armor rubbing against the skin above her wrists.

    "... I don't know what happened," Phoebe begins quietly. "Maybe someday I'll understand better, I'm trying, but Cassandra, you deserve that happiness."

Cassandra Cain has posed:
She's sorry. That much doesn't even need words. But while the girl before her may not speak, she has no issues with making certain things clear. A step towards Phoebe and she extends her arms, those same arms that many are terrified of in the city itself. The ones which would never do harm, not unless they had to. The arms which get few enough hugs.

And then she's against Phoebe, her cheek pressed to the taller woman's shoulder. Squeesing gently, eyes closed, she lets a time pass like that. No healing save that of the soul. Before the time comes when she needs to leave, and become that thing again. The one that must fight.

Fingers meant to grow and live, turned to weapons. Some things can not be fixed, even with magic.

But not quite yet.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    And Phoebe is taken offguard by the hug, but she accepts it, and she wraps her arms gently around Cassandra's shoulders to let the shorter woman take all the time she needs.

    "If you need me, I'll be there later." she states gently. "I make my rounds too."

    And she lets go of Cassandra with a small measure of hesitation, and takes a step back, understanding. They both had to do what they had to do.

    Gotham needed them.