Owner	Pose
Rahne Sinclair	She's in her room, trying on outfits. Rahne, for all her teeny-tiny size, actually does like to look kinda nice. She pulls out a nice seafoam shirt and holds it against her chest, smiling a little as she looks into the mirror. A sports bra keeps her covered, it's fine. She isn't expecting things to happen, but neither is she exactly busy. A lady is allowed these things, after all.
Clarice Ferguson	Quiet footsteps move down the hall - not unusual in a dorm, certainly - but they stop just outside Rahne's door. There's a moment of stillness, and silence, before finally a rap comes at the door - polite, and quiet. When the door swings open it'll reveal Clarice - leaning back on one foot - dressed in a long black duster over a pair of jeans and a shift. Her hands are shoved into her pockets. "...did you want to talk?" she asks simply.
Rahne Sinclair	The door would creak open a notch. Rahne is far too...what's the word? Far too hung up to open the door in her bra if there was any chance of it being a boy on the other side. She peeks, then she nods and lets it swing open. No smile on her face, it's rather like looking in on your super serious preteen cousin. However she does close the door behind, turn up the air conditioning a notch, and then sits down on the floor. She's wearing jean shorts and a sports bra, and holding a nice top. But she looks so worried, she crosses her legs and sighs. "D'ye want a drink?" she offers, clearly either thinking of manners, or unwilling to get right to the point.
Clarice Ferguson	"Nah, I'm good," Clarice answers. She isn't one to be hung up on specific manners - probably the result of her rather lacking upbringing. She drops down to sit on the edge of the bed - even though there're perfectly good chairs available - and leans back onto her hands as she glances around the room.     She hasn't spent much time in the dorms until recently, but she can't help but think... "It's wild how nice the rooms are here - for the kids," she remarks. "I mean, Lorna's room is nice but... She's //Royalty//." And on the staff, besides.
Rahne Sinclair	It's odd. Rahne's room is sparse, almost like she's waiting to move in, though she's been here for literally years. The only real sign that someone has moved in is the cross on the wall, by her bed. She hasn't, or doesn't, really want to leave any mark of herself here. There aren't even dirty clothings on the floor! Sitting there, she hitches up the back of her shorts a moment as she listens. Then with a sigh, she looks around at the room. The nod she gives is as noncommital as her decorating skills. For all that she's a resident, where does she actually live if it's not here? Does she have a boyfriend? A girlfriend? She does tend to keep to herself. "Ye had a rough time, last mission," comes out of the blue. Or the redhead, as it were. "We all did, sure an' true, but...ah ken ye maybe more?"
Clarice Ferguson	"What - on the island?" Clarice asks. She tries to keep her voice casual - but even as she says it, there's tension in her form - the way her hands unconsciously tighten and bunch up the bed spread, and whatever other movement had been in her form is abruptly quite still. "...yeah," she admits. "That was rough."     She's silent a moment, her gaze fixed on the wall across from her, before adding, "Dyani's from the same program, you know? I managed to find some more of them - and get her free."
Rahne Sinclair	Rahne's face was never good at dissembling. She doesn't understand, and she shows it. "Wot program?" she says, almost unnecessarily given how honest her body is. "Ah dinnee know enou an' ye, or Dyani." That part is said softly, into her lack of cleavage, and she looks down at her own heels. Looking up a little she offers, "Ah be no counselor. Es jus' stupid me, but ah'm pure good a' listening."
Clarice Ferguson	The look Clarice gives Rahne now is pure puzzlement. It only lingers there for a few moments, studying here, before she finds a point on the wall to stare at once more, instead. "The one controlling those mutants - on that island," she answers simply. "They were enslaved, forced to attack and kill their own kind... and we couldn't save them." There was regret in her voice, but not the raw pain, rage and grief she had felt some weeks ago. "We could only free them."
Rahne Sinclair	Rahne's mouth makes an 'oh' without sound, as she looks up at Clarice's explanation. She looks bewildered. Was she not there? Did nobody think to explain to her? There are drawbacks to looking youthful; Rahne generally isn't there at meetings, nor at the afterparty celebrations. Perhaps she's also being left out of the loop, a little more than is appropriate. "Did anyone give ye th' chance tae..." Pause, a beat or two as she arranges her thoughts. "Talk about et? Maybe, ah dinnae know, do ye need anythin? Does Dyani? Ah can try tae help." She's got a lot to think about herself. Her religion includes confession and such, maybe she's been leaning on her priest or some such.
Clarice Ferguson	"Dyani needs friends - and a chance to heal," Clarice replies. "She needs... this place. She needs Xavier's. And she's going to need help with her school work - way I've heard it she's already missed five years of schooling." As for Clarice? Some of the tension caused by her surprise at Rahne's question has eased a little - though her hands still grip at the bed's comforter. "But I'm fine, Rahne. I mean... This shit happens, right?"
Rahne Sinclair	Rahne Sinclair is possible the most unassuming, impossible to feel insulted by, person in the entire school. So there's something to be said for her broaching the topic to someone who's tense about things. She leans forward and puts her elbows on her knees, hands holding up her chin, and if she had anything to show she'd be displaying it. She does not. Nor does she mind if Clarice talks til she's done, makes all her points. She thinks it's the right way to do things, anyway. "Ah'll invite her out t'nite. Got a good place under trees tae study. Mebbe can teach me a few things too, y'know? Ah bet she kens different nor us, an nae any less. Jus' different." She looks up at Clarice then, her face not smiling or frowning. Soft, innocent. Maybe a little worried. "Do ye want tae hit me?" she asks, still quite serious. ...what?
Clarice Ferguson	"That would be good," Clarice agrees. "I mean... don't get me wrong. I don't... I don't mean to belittle Dyani. She's a sweet girl, 'n I care about her. And when it comes to bees, and plants, and nature, probably she knows more than me. But there's somethings she has trouble with. I just want folks to be looking out for her, and helping her." This is all delivered without looking away from that same, meaningless section of wall - though at that last question for Rahne, her gaze finds the other girl with an expression of confusion and surprised.     "Why should I want to do that?" she asks. "No. Definitely. I mean- did you do something I don't know about?"
Rahne Sinclair	Rahne blinks a few times, the skin of her cheeks heating slightly. She finally shows some emotion other than sadness or worry, looking up and away and leaning back a bit, her hands going behind her back to support her. She lets her eyes go back to Clarice, then drops again to the floor. Words don't come out easily, and she says, "I thought," and "I mean," a couple of times before rising to her feet and walking over to her window. She looks out at the outdoors and sighs. "Thought et might help ye. An' ah'm fine with et. If ye needed tae hit someone, sometime." She turns and looks back to Clarice, her eyes slightly red. "We both really hurt people. An' maybe, yeah. Ah feel like ah might deserve et."
Clarice Ferguson	"I'm a killer," Clarice says flatly, and evenly. "That's what I was made to be. But- I only kill monsters. I only hurt when I have to."     She pushes herself off the bed now - moving towards the window to stand beside Rahne. Maybe, she is realizing, this is less about her - than it is about the young, slight woman beside her. She reaches out cautiously to put a hand on the girl's shoulder. "You haven't done anything to earn my anger or condemnation. So how would hurting you help me feel any better?" she asks in plain, simple words.
Rahne Sinclair	She turns her head to look at Clarice, the green eyes wide and worried. She snuggles in a little, then looks out to the trees, the grass. "It wouldn't," she admits. She knows why she offered it, and if she feels like she deserves punishment, that's not something she should be putting on a friend's shoulders. She nods. She looks at the sky, at the green. So simple. "If ye chose tae be somethen else nor what ye were made tae be, es thae possible?" She asks it, but whether she's talking about what Clarice said or her own thoughts is uncertain. Maybe it's both. It's ...it's probably both.
Clarice Ferguson	Clarice hadn't expected the girl to lean into her - and for a moment, she stiffens, before she forces her form to relax once more.     She doesn't pull away, however.     "Could I be something else?" Clarice asks softly. "I don't know. I guess, probably. If I wanted to. But... I was taught these skills. I was taught how to kill, and if I can use them to protect our people, and make the world better, don't I have an obligation to do that?" She presses her lips together for a moment before adding, "I'm not what they made me to be - not exactly. I'm not a tool - a weapon. I'm a person. I don't kill without just cause," and she seems to genuinely believe that to judge by the ferver in her tone, and the determination on her features. "But I- It's something I honestly need. I don't know if I could stop killing completely. I've never tried."
Rahne Sinclair	Rahne doesn't answer. She's thinking, for once not of others. This is about herself. But the words, they matter. Clarice was taught to be ...but she's not. But she is. The frown on rahne's face is odd, it's dark. Furrowed, perhaps. Do I have an obligation? Do I even know what I am, what I owe the world? Do I owe this school, that I kill for them? "I'm not you," she admits out loud. But if I'm not you, what am I? The sky is so blue.
Clarice Ferguson	"No, you're not," Clarice agrees with Rahne - her tone is calm, perhaps even reassuring. "I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want to me," she adds - a hint of a laugh in her voice. What the hell does that mean?     "But look - there's nothing wrong with killing folks for the right reason. If it saves innocent lives... Then it's worth it."
Rahne Sinclair	She listens til the end, but the last point makes Rahne wince visibly. She reacts to the idea, that killing is worth it, by tensing up. And by leaning her head forward and bonking her forehead on the window. She gives what could only be termed as a self-depreciating growl; the tone sounds like she's mixing it with a confused whimper somehow. Only a wolf girl could hit those notes while making a noise generally considered to be threatening. It isn't. "Would ye believe," she asks, her tone super quiet, "thae ah'd die b'fore ah'd protect m'self? Th' bad guys, (yes, she called them 'bad guys') tha' we fought, they were killin' everyone. But, if et were jus' me they were attackin?" She lets that thought trail off, not sure how it'll be taken.
Clarice Ferguson	"You can't think that way," Clarice answers - and there's genuine concern in her voice. "You're worth more than them," she says fiercely. "And besides that - it's not just you. It's not. You think they're going to kill you - and then stop there? Never harm another in their life? Or what if they take you, and did what they did to me? What they did to Dyani? Steal your free will and turn you into their weapon? Force you to kill innocents in their name, for their goals?" she points out.     Maybe she's being too brutal - pushing too hard - but this is something Clarice is passionate about - and it seems the woman won't back down on this front.     "You get a chance to kill people like that? You take it. If you can safetly take them down non-lethally? Fine. Otherwise - end them. Because it isn't you or them. It's them, or you, and //all// their future victims."
Rahne Sinclair	And what do you say to that? Rahne's own mind asks her the question, and her entire upbringing says that it's simple. You pray for them. How much good has praying done for you lately, girl? God doesn't owe me an answer, damnit. Oh? Why not? He gave you the power to stop them, to save others. Isn't that your answer? That's not what it is! That's saying that it's good, that I'm someone to be the hero. I'm not! Silence. Well? I'm not! "My heart isn't sure," she says out loud. And yes, she's crying. But she looks up, and says, "Least if ah'm gonnae do et, ah gottae use m' own hands. No pretending et isnae...real." Honestly she looks like she's going to have a heart attack or something.
Clarice Ferguson	"It is real," Clarice confirms quietly. "There's nothing //more// real." She studies Rahne - confusion, sympathy, and even a little concern on her features. She isn't quite sure what to do, or what to say to the girl. She isn't sure if she's helped her - or made things so, so much worse. Hesitantly, she puts her hands on both of Rahne's shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze. "There's a lot of blood on my hands that I regret. I... feel I have a duty to make up for that. To set things right. To balance the scale - but you //aren't// me. You're gonna have to find your own way forward. Your own way of doing things. Just... don't beat yourself up for stopping bad people from hurting good people, alright?"
Rahne Sinclair	Confession. That, she knows what to do with. And Clarice is unlikely to go to a priest, after all. With an upturn of her head (so short, she's just a tiny little thing!) Rahne looks up at Clarice. She offers a smile, then says, "Aye. That, I understand a'least." Well, it's a start. And she has her own penance to do anyway. "Maybe et be time tae find out who I am, then. Clary, ah be gonnae leave, for a bit. Will you an' Dyani be okay? Ah'l show her aroun' first, but es time. Thes be eatin at me, an ah'm nae doin right." She looks up at Clarice, then nods firmly. "Es time tae go."
Clarice Ferguson	"Me and Dyani can look after each other," Clarice reassures Rahne with a smile, though she still seems puzzled. She gives voice to that puzzlement readily enough, however. "Go where, though? This is your home, isn't it?" she asks - giving Rahne's shoulders a little squeeze once more before she lets go.
Rahne Sinclair	"No," she says easily enough. She glances at the room, empty but for the furnishings it came with. Her eyes leave it easily enough, and she sighs inwardly, her shoulders slumping under those strong hands. Then becoming strong again. So much to say, and so few words spoken. As her eyes turn to the window, and the outside. "Yes. An so very much no, a' th' same time." As she stares at the trees, the world outside. "Maybe ah'm wrong. Am probably wrong, honestly." She grins at that last bit. "But es a mistake ah gotta make, least for a little while. Could ye..." She pauses, flustered suddenly. Then she shakes her head.
Clarice Ferguson	"I'm not sure I understand," Clarice replies uncertain. "But... that seems to go around a lot. My home is with the Brotherhood, and there's so many who can't seem to understand //that//, either." She smiles wryly at this admission.     Then in a gentler tone she adds, "Can I what, Rahne?" She hesitates then asks, "You need a lift somewhere?" I mean, she probably gets asked that //a lot// to be fair.
Rahne Sinclair	Rahne grins then, having somehow managed to reclaim some of her self, of her heart, in her own little drama. "Es nothin," she says. Which is a lie, but it's clearly something that she isn't quite ready to address. "Ah got m' own travel options." She shows her teeth, giggles just a bit, and something in her has changed. Stronger, healthier. Rahne again, the Rahne she should be. "Maybe when ah see ye again, ah'll tell ye." Then she leans up suddenly and puts a little kiss on Clarice's cheek. Sudden, then gone. And then she's out of her hands, and packing. Out of her life perhaps. For now. "Ah'll tell the Professor." She pauses, then tilts her head, and nods. That sounds right.
Clarice Ferguson	The kiss catches Clarice by surprise and she stiffens - but doesn't pull away. Once the girl is off and packing, she nods her head uncertainly, that puzzlement still on her features. "Yeah. Probably best to let folks know you're off - so they don't worry." She watches Rahne for a few more minutes. "Whatever you got in mind, kid, I hope you find the answers you need," she adds sincerely - before she starts for the door.     And - yes. 'Kid.' She gets it enough from Mister Creed, that it's somehow second nature to just turn it around on someone else.
Rahne Sinclair	The impulse to stick out her tongue, to confirm the 'kid' remark, is strong. But so is the impulse to grab Clarice and kiss her on the lips, to prove it wrong once and forever. In the end she is uncertain, gathering her things. Gathering a bag to put them in. Frowning. "How did ah get so many damn shirts?" she asks. But it's to herself. She's asking herself. It doesn't need a response. Then, without warning, she's up close to Clarice. She leans up on her toes, as high as she can reach, and presses her lips to the taller woman's own. The question, what she meant to ask for, an answer given with a suddenness that's almost broken. If it's a goodbye, it's a powerful one.
Clarice Ferguson	As Rahne continues to speed pack, Clarice puts her hand on the door knob, hesitating a moment as she looks at the younger mutant. She really doesn't get what's going on in the girl's head.     What happens next doesn't really provide her any clarity, either. At first, she stiffens - then her hands both find leverage against Rahne's chest, shoving the girl back - with the added force of an instinctual charge of her portaling ability. One moment Rahne is there - the next moment she's stumbling back against the bed several feet away. It's doubtlessly a disorienting experience.     "Wh- what?" she stammers - the purple of her cheeks deepening. She doesn't look angry - she looks surprised, confused... perhaps even a bit frightened by the unexpected gesture.
Rahne Sinclair	"Okay, wrong choice," Rahne mumbles to herself, finding herself on the floor. She sits on the floor, on her bottom, looking up at Clarice. Then she decides that maybe she'd better...better what? Her brain stalls and dies. "Ah'm s.." She almost says that she's sorry. But that'd be a lie, and she won't. She can't. So she stares. Then she's on her feet, heading for the door. She left her bag, her things. The fifty shirts she doesn't need. She left her cross. And she left Clarice, dashing down the hallway. But she wasn't crying. Not a word. What would she even say, that the kiss did not? Perhaps goodbye.
Clarice Ferguson	Clarice is frozen in place - unsure what to do. How to respond. Some corner of her brain seems to be aware that she //should// respond. She should move! She should say something! She should follow! But she remains locked in place, staring straight ahead - her heart thudding in her chest.     It's only belatedly that she steps out into the hallway, calling after the girl. "Rahne!" Fuck. Fuck! If she came back, what would she even say? What would she even do? Shit.
Rahne Sinclair	The hallway isn't empty. Not yet. She's at the far end, having paused there. She waited, to see if Clarice was alright. Even in her desperate need to go, she waited. The little girl all grown up, she belies how short her stature. And the smile, that absolutely Rahne smile, waits a moment longer. To see if she's okay. She doesn't run away. But she does walk, turning to go. And then she's gone from the mansion, as a wolf's feet take her off. She'll tell Xavier later.