7363/An Awkward Visit

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An Awkward Visit
Date of Scene: 13 August 2021
Location: Research Facility
Synopsis: And then they have sandwiches?
Cast of Characters: Rahne Sinclair, Clarice Ferguson




Rahne Sinclair has posed:
"She's doing well," Moira would have said. "We've had her DNA on file for five years, so we were able to completely reconstruct anything with issues. Might have actually improved a few things. Go on, talk to her."

Then Clarice would be shown in. Not a hospital bed, Rahne is in a simple room with a bed and a chair. She's sitting, eyes closed, with her headwraps removed. They even regrew her hair.

Hasn't looked yet. She seems almost to be sleeping. While sitting up. So...probably not.

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    Clarice listens curiously and politely to the woman's words - clutching a potted plant to her chest - a small sapling in a large ceramic pot. The pot has mottled deep greens at the bottom, with a sort of reddish brown glaze dropping down from the lip, and between the ceramic and dirt it contains, it's a bit heavy to carry - not that Clarice utters a single word of complaint.
    "Yes ma'am," she says politely as she's led to the door. "I'm glad she's doing well."
    She steps inside as the door is opened, but she only takes a few steps inside before coming to a halt, shifting uneasily on heer feet. "Hey, Rahne. Where, umm... should I put this?" she asks uncertainly.

Rahne Sinclair has posed:
"...for thine is the kingdom, the power and glory, forever and ever, amen." Rahne finishes what she was saying, having been praying. The conclusion of what she was obviously doing would seem...well, obvious, now. She opens her eyes. She turns toward the door.

She leaps, arms outstretched. The pot may or may not survive the joyous reception, or Rahne's renewed energy levels.

It seems that Moira did in fact heal the girl, and a good job she did indeed!

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    Clarice eyes open wide at the unexpected expected greeting. She clutches tighter to the pot in her arms intent on protecting it as she's hugged, leaving her unable to reciprocate, but her expression goes from surprised, to smiling with eyes that brim over with tears. "I- I thought you'd be upset with me," she admits quietly.

Rahne Sinclair has posed:
Rahne puts a small kiss on Clarice's cheek, managing to keep from murdering the tree as she holds back enough to refrain from running them over. She touches Clarice's shoulders, looking from her face down to the sapling and back to her face.

"For me?" she asks, letting her hands touch the tree gently. "O'course I be upset. But this ain't a build-a-bear, Clary. Got tae deal wi' the bad, an' love anyway." She doesn't write it off as nothing, but...at least she's still in this. With you.

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "I- oh," Clarice answers quietly, not sure what to say. She hugs awkwardly to the pot, looking down at the little sapling for a moment, then back to Rahne. "We're ready to start replanting," she explains. "And- I- we- weren't sure if you'd be up to participating, but it hardly seemed like a good idea to delay if we're ready to go, since it's so important and all, but I didn't want you to be, umm, left out of it completely, since it was your idea and all, so I- well. I brought you this one so that you could- you could plant it somewhere when you're ready."
    After a moment's hesitation she adds, "And I picked out the pot for you. I thought, umm- I thought you might like this one best."

Rahne Sinclair has posed:
Rahne's hands grip the pot, gently but firmly placing it aside. There's a chair, and it ends up there. So she can see Clarice directly, and she offers a place on the bed. It's the only other place to sit.

"It be lovely. I mean thet, es pure golden." But she's not sure that she wants to talk about the tree. "Clary, ye been cryin'." A finger, touching a cheek. Worry.

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "...a little," Clarice admits quietly, as the pot is set aside. She lets herself be drawn over to the bed, sitting on the edge of it, as she tries to find the words to continue. What can she even say? "I worried that you wouldn't want to talk to me, again," she admits quietly. "Because-" Whatever specific wording she'd been considering voice is cut off abruptly as she clenches her jaw tightly, and grips her hands tightly together as well.
    "I didn't want to upset you. But I didn't want to lie to you, either," she offers instead after a brief hesitation.

Rahne Sinclair has posed:
Rahne, her usual reticence no less present, is content to let Clarice speak her piece without interrupting. She nods, offering to hold hands with the girl if Clarice wants to do so. But she isn't pulling away.

"Well, am still upset," she admits. "Es a pure lot easier tae ken now, though. M' head be clear, an am nae dealin' wi' a thousand pains an aches at th' same time. Makes et a whole lot easier tae encompass things, y'ken me?"

She hopes that all made sense. She really does. But she seems...happier. "Clary, ah want tae stay. Stay with ye, I mean. I believe different things," she says, the a beat later, "but ah will nae force ye tae believe them. Es nae how life works. I ken a value to all life, e'en th' ones who do bad things."

"That be ME," she insists, she emphasizes with her tone, and by touching her own chest firmly. "I want tae teach th' world. I want everything tae be better nor it is. But it dinnae mean ah dinnee see th' pain an darkness."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "I'm glad you're feeling better," Clarice interjects quietly - because that was a much easier and safer thing to comment on, and because it was completely true. "I hated seeing you in pain." It takes her a little while to get her hands to relax their tight grip on one another when Rahne places her own hand on them - and a few moments after that before she'll turn one of those hands to grip Rahne's.
    "I thought..." she offers quietly and uncertainly, her gaze locked down on their joined hands - it was a much safer place to look than at Rahne's eyes. "I was afraid you'd think I was a monster. That's what people think about Mister Creed, and if they knew the truth about me... I'm sure they'd think the same about me."

Rahne Sinclair has posed:
Rahne nods, if quietly. She lets her fingers trail through Clarice's, the speech of sorts tailing off naturally. She lets it be quiet for a bit, lets stillness and sighs filling the room.

"Well...et be true, in a way. Ah do believe tha' what ye do, an he does, be wrong. But," she says, lifting a finger to touch Clarice's chin, to raise up her eyes, "tha' be part o' th' quest, right? Tae help those who need it, an' tae forgive?"

She sighs. "Clary, -nobody- be perfect. Hae ye looked at ME lately? I be a walkin' ball o neuroses an' I lie tae m'self more often 'n I eat meals."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    Clarice lets her gaze be drawn to Rahne's - and her eyes are still moist, filled with tears she struggles against shedding. "I know it isn't necessarily... good, or right, I just- I have to sometimes. I start feeling like- I don't know. It's so hard to explain. My mind rushes, and gets trapped in- in very unpleasant thoughts, and I just- I feel like I'm under pressure, like I'm about to explode, and the only way to get it out- to- to find peace again..." She lets out a heavy sigh.
    "I try to do good with it. We stop murderers, and slavers, and rapists. We save people - we've literally freed a few hundred people.
    "But I know it isn't right. It's just- I don't know. He needs it, and so do I."
    There's almost cautious, fearful tone to her voice as she speaks, with her gaze still locked onto Rahne's - as if she expects the girl to run again. Or at the very least, to pull back.

Rahne Sinclair has posed:
Rahne instead is listening, with all that she has to offer. She seems to want every word, drinking it in like she takes in Clarice's eyes. She isn't smiling; she's serious, she's taking this with utmost clarity. Nods, softly, and lets her say her piece. Then?

"Who is he?" she asks, having picked that out of the words. "Clary, I be nae goin' anywhere. Ah will nae help ye kill, but if it be part o' ye then I got tae accept that. Or thaur be somethin' wrong wi' me."

"Now. Ye can cry all y' want, okay? I be here."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "Mister Creed," Clarice supplies - as if this is the most obvious answer in the world. "He's- He's a father to me. Has been since I was rescued from the Pens. I- when they had me there, drugged, and collared, and- and not really able to think, or act independently - we weren't people. They didn't treat us as people, or think of us as people. We were things. Tools. And they only taught me what I needed to know, how to kill. So- so when the Brotherhood freed me, freed my mind after over eleven years of that, I- I didn't really know how to be a person, and the only person who really seemed to understand me, who I could understand, was Mister Creed."
    She continues to hold to Rahne's hand as she speaks, her gaze locked onto the other woman, occassionally blinking free a tear.

Rahne Sinclair has posed:
It's then that something seems to click in Rahne's head. She takes in a deep breath and holds it, her brain clacking almost audibly. She puffs out that held breath, her eyes kind of looking away, deep in thought. "So...ye be kinda th' victims," she whispers to herself.

Then she looks up, directly at Clarice. "No. No kinda about et. Thes be some'at someone did to ye. Es obvious. How could ah think YE were monsters, none o' ye!?" She bites her lower lip, she looks at the wall fiercely.

"Am no good Catholic, nae tae see that an' offer ye th' help, instead o' guilt an' pain."

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    "Just because it was done to me - doesn't mean it's right." The tears finally start to fall in earnest as Clarice adds, "You know- you know you don't //have// to stay with me... right? I mean- it's not like- it not like we ever even decided what we- what this is, and- and even if we had, I mean- It's not like I could make you... I'm not right for you. I'm sure I'm not. How could I be?"
    Despite her words, her hands cling all the tighter to Rahne's. Stay. Oh, God, please stay.

Rahne Sinclair has posed:
Rahne puts a finger onto Clarice's lips.

"Shut up, an' help me find a place tae plant our tree," she says, her eyes smiling. She isn't the freak-out that walked out, nor the one who cried at the smallest thing.

"Then, maybe we can talk. An' it doesnae have tae have a name." Not yet. But there's no running away, and no need for distance.

Maybe Rahne isn't ready herself, yet. Maybe she is. But she clearly wants to plant a tree, with Clarice, and damn if it's not going to be the best kept tree on the island.

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    Clarice nods wordlessly, and finally frees her hands from Rahne's so she can wipe the tears from her eyes. "Yeah," she agrees quietly. "Yeah. Let's, umm, find a good spot for the tree," she agrees. She lets out a quiet laugh before she adds, "'course, we'll have to find another plant to put in the pot after that," she remarks.
    The tears slow and stop after a few more swipes from her hands as she stands and adds, "I, umm- I read the Alice book already, you know. It's a lot of silly nonsense, isn't it? I mean - how do you go digging for apples? It doesn't make any sense."

Rahne Sinclair has posed:
Rahne hears it and moves without thinking. She can't stop, her heart won't take it any longer. She read the book, her mind says. There's only one response to that, and she grabs at Clarice's shirt and yanks her close.

She kisses Clarice, and it is night and day from the last, their first kiss. She needs it to stay this time, and she closes her eyes, holding tight.

Now.

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    The kiss once again catches Clarice completely off guard - and probably about halfway through the sentence, 'How do you go digging for a-' Her eyes widen, and she stiffens - but she doesn't push Rahne away. No, after a moment to process what was happening, she returns the kiss, wrapping her arms around Rahne, and eventually ends up tucked against Rahne's shoulder once their lips part, tears starting to streak down her cheeks. Was this real? Were they really going to be okay? Rahne really did love her - even with everything she'd said?
    How?

Rahne Sinclair has posed:
The eyes looking at Clarice hold a tinge of yellow, and Rahne slips her arm around Clarice's waist. She growls, deep in her throat so it's hard to hear, and she lets the wolf's possessiveness be heard. Mine, it says, and it's hard to be clear for a moment.

Rahne has never, not while human. She blinks, the gold flecks fading, and whispers, "Am sorry," into Clarice's ear. She's sorry if she scared the woman. She's not sorry for so many other things.

"Stay," she begs. "Ye can stay, right?"

Clarice Ferguson has posed:
    In this moment, with her own confusion whirling in her mind, Clarice has no idea why Rahne is apologizing. She decides it doesn't really matter, though, as she continues to cling to Rahne's form. "I can stay," she agrees quietly. "I want to stay. We can- we can plant the tree, and talk about the book, and... and... do whatever else we want to do. I can stay."

Rahne Sinclair has posed:
"We can talk," Rahne says. But her fingers are saying different things, as she lays her head where it's comfortable. But then, her stomach intervenes with a growl of its own, and ....she laughs. "We can plant, after sandwiches," she suggests.

But she doesn't want to let go.