Arc 8 Post 36: Tale of Treachery New and Old
Tale of Treachery New and Old
13th of November 2006 A.D.
Your mother takes the news calmly, not oh-crap-what-have-I-done calm of the kind you have experienced plenty of time in the past, but actually calmly. Even when you get to the part where you had killed and maaybe sort of kind of eaten a Walker the only thing you can read in the tightening of her expression is reflexive fear at the description, not second guessing your judgement in getting into the fight. Surprisingly, one might even say astonishingly Mom seems to finally made her peace with the fact that you were the scariest thing in that room filled with ancient vampires, closely followed by your sixteen year old friend. When you get to the bit about The Demon City, the words capitalize even in your thoughts, she finally speaks up. "Do you think it was a good idea to ask those questions with all those witnesses?" When you to not answer at once she presses. "While they could see you looking?"
"They could see by aura shift, eyes swimming though it like fish in the sea, but they could not see what I saw. It would make sense for me to be worried about another ambush or even to try to scry the remains. That's not... the fact that I have some means of divination is not a secret, not of the scope as killing the Outsider. That begs the question could they have seen more into me when I was looking for answers?" You pause a moment, for effect, though from the outside it looks like you are gathering your thoughts. "Yes, but it was worth the risk. Ignorance is dangerous too. That thing knew more about me than I do and it went looking for me, looking for a cage match. What else is looking?"
Lost 1 Essence - Now at 9/15 (Empathy Excellency)
Your worry is very much not feigned, by the cadence of the words and the shape of them you wield it as deftly as you do your sword.
"And you think talking to these... shen will help?" she asks, not even blinking as though you might vanish if she lets you out of sight for a second.
"It's a start, one that isn't hell," you sigh. Then before she can stew on the matter anymore you quickly chance the subject. "How's Ellanor doing. Do you think Lydia can... deal with her?"
"Mrs Barrowill..."
"I really do not think that is an appropriate thing to call her no matter what's on her papers." You quickly run down how you had met, something the woman herself had, understandably not wanted to share in full.
"Lord have mercy..." Mom shudders in her seat. "I knew it was bad as soon as I met her but that's worse. Lydia's a clever girl but she is going to need help. I know some charities."
The next twenty minutes are filled with talking to Lydia and Elanor as your mom dispenses advice in a tone not entirely unlike a drill sergeant, though both of them seem to take comfort in it, in someone actually having a clue. Not to say the poor woman's situation is easy, she has no bank account in her own name, no property, no income and thanks to a a prenuptial agreement can expect little in the divorce.
"We will get your stuff back first then we handle the rest of it," Lydia assures him. "I have a good lawyer" And if that does not work we move on to blunter instruments, her tone seems to say.
Once they are off your continue your story, the matter of your actions tonight settled, or so at least you had thought.
***
"A studio?" Your mother's voice once more rises into a crescendo. "Molly you don't know how to run a studio."
"I can learn, or at the very least I can send the people who made some of my favorite moves off with a good severance pay and references instead of letting some Raith crony take over the place," you point out resonantly.
She opens her mouth, closes it, sighs, likely because the notion of you being independently wealthy had not quite registered yet. To be fair that would take some getting used to, it had been only a few months ago that you were asking her for gas money.
"There is one other thing I found out when I talked to Meave that I forgot to mention. You remember Sandra Marling?"
Mom nods cautiously but her expression does not stay neutral long as you you recount your former 'friend's' treachery. "That little bitch."
Even after all you had been though tonight you freeze hearing her say the word. In your whole life you can count on the fingers of one hand the times you had heard your mom talk like that... at least when she knew you could hear her, the times you eavesdropped on one conversation or another more than double the number.
As if summoned by the thought Hope shuffles into the kitchen on bunny slippered feet looking for a glass of water you suspect. "Mom, what's a bitch?"
"A girl dog," you answer quickly. "Mom was just talking about dog shows."
Lost 1 Essence -> Now at 8/15
That actually works. Truly the powers you have been invested with are fel and terrible.
What do you do next?
[] Speak to the Order of the Cauldron about getting organized
-[] Write in arguments (optional)
[] Fulfill your bargain with Monoc
[] Hunt the shape-changers
[] Write in
OOC: For once this came off without complications... at least for you. Charity has to deal with the fact that she taught her youngest daughter a new word.
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