[Texas] Chapter 2.1: You Shouldn't Have Come Back
Re: [Texas] Chapter 2.1: You Shouldn't Have Come Back
Giving Jane and Eryl a nod as they joined him in washing dishes, Ruarc dried his hands and pivoted to getting tea ready. As he got water started on the range, he sleuthed until he found where the cups were stowed to get some sets for everyone. Meanwhile Laoise finished clearing the table and wiping it clean as the evening wound down to a more subdued affair.
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Re: [Texas] Chapter 2.1: You Shouldn't Have Come Back
As she passed the last dish off to Eryl, Jane informed her, "Be back faster an lightnin with sumin ta settle ye." Then she gave the triclops a wink and walked off, headed for the back door. On the way she stopped to knock at her mother's door gently then peek in. Mama Smith was already in bed as she'd claimed she would be, but not yet asleep. Their gazes met and their lips mirrored each other in a lopsided smile; on Jane, one could see the barely suppressed delight at returning home and seeing her mother; on her mother, it was heartfelt joy dampened by exhaustion. "Love ye, mama," Jane whispered.
"All my love, Janie."
The door made barely a sound as she closed it again and proceeded to the cellar.
When she returned, Jane shifted everyone to the living room. The coffee table saw more use that one evening than it had in the last several years combined. Sitting center was the tea pot, flanked by four steaming cups. Surrounding the tea pot were a plate of lemon slices, a tureen of honey, and a small bowl of sugar. At the far end, and nearest Jane's spot on the couch, was a half-full bottle of whiskey.
As everyone settled in and prepared tea to their liking, Jane tugged her hair free of its ponytail and teased it loose with one hand. If anyone found it noteworthy, she didn't notice-- she was consumed by her mental preparations for the conversation looming ahead.
She took a deep draught of her own tea, appreciating the floral notes of Sundry Valley's local flora and the heat of the locally sourced whiskey. Then she began. "When we firs popped outta the portals, I made some off-hand remarks bout my Patron." She paused to give herself time to find the right words and everyone else time to adjust their focus. "That wasn fair, and imma do right by y'all." Another pause, this time to take a deep breath.
"When I ennered the portal, I didn come straight here. I went elsewhere-- like a hotel hallway. Grimy, bad lighting. There was only one door-- all the way ta the end. When I opened it, it was jus sittin there." She made a disgusted face recalling the Director's appearance. "Like a man, but more. Swear on ma watch an warrant the word corpulent was writ on account of the first man what laid eyes on that creature. He was... sloven. Flesh and fat spilling all over his recliner. An he was jus shovelin popped corn down his gullet like a starvin man, and it was--" she shook out one hand like one might after washing only to discover there was no towel. "--Jus drippin oil errywhere, all down his front."
Jane swallowed the rest of her 'whisktea,' as her papa would have called it, and set the cup down. She'd fetch more after she was finished, but for the moment she had to push through to the story's end.
"The whole wall across o him, it was floor ta ceilin screens. Old and new, big and small. He was watchin... everythin. And he showed me... myself. Called hisself a director, and my biggest fan." She scowled at the idea of being a puppet to entertain such a creature as that. "T'were others on those screens. I reckon some were actual film, but the rest were like me... characters for him to... direct.
"After that, I beat a hasty retreat." I ran like whipped dog, the no-nonsense part of her mind reminded her, and she suppressed the urge to wince at her own admonishment. "When I came out, I was with y'all here. And since I'm already spinnin yarn, there was another chat I had that I reckon maybe relevant. Awhile back, a Lady Venezia paid me a visit, tryna find our favorite alchemist." She waved a hand over her shoulder to indicate this was quite a ways back.
"Cuttin to the chase, we made a deal. I help her with her manhunt, she gets me a chat with Fate." She gave a small laugh at hearing her own absurd words. "Fate said... said 'You are your own person. He did not make you what you are, he chose you because of the person you already were. But he influences things, alters things.'"
She filled her cup with more tea and whiskey and took another sip. "I been sittin on that lumpy saddle awhile," she confessed. "Didn know a proper time n place ta bring it up. But if yer all here cuz o me an my Patron, least y'all deserve is some straight shootin. So, there it is. I reckon he wants us here to handle some... unfinished business."
Jane emptied her cup a second time and stared at the dregs in its bottom while she waited for someone to respond.
"All my love, Janie."
The door made barely a sound as she closed it again and proceeded to the cellar.
When she returned, Jane shifted everyone to the living room. The coffee table saw more use that one evening than it had in the last several years combined. Sitting center was the tea pot, flanked by four steaming cups. Surrounding the tea pot were a plate of lemon slices, a tureen of honey, and a small bowl of sugar. At the far end, and nearest Jane's spot on the couch, was a half-full bottle of whiskey.
As everyone settled in and prepared tea to their liking, Jane tugged her hair free of its ponytail and teased it loose with one hand. If anyone found it noteworthy, she didn't notice-- she was consumed by her mental preparations for the conversation looming ahead.
She took a deep draught of her own tea, appreciating the floral notes of Sundry Valley's local flora and the heat of the locally sourced whiskey. Then she began. "When we firs popped outta the portals, I made some off-hand remarks bout my Patron." She paused to give herself time to find the right words and everyone else time to adjust their focus. "That wasn fair, and imma do right by y'all." Another pause, this time to take a deep breath.
"When I ennered the portal, I didn come straight here. I went elsewhere-- like a hotel hallway. Grimy, bad lighting. There was only one door-- all the way ta the end. When I opened it, it was jus sittin there." She made a disgusted face recalling the Director's appearance. "Like a man, but more. Swear on ma watch an warrant the word corpulent was writ on account of the first man what laid eyes on that creature. He was... sloven. Flesh and fat spilling all over his recliner. An he was jus shovelin popped corn down his gullet like a starvin man, and it was--" she shook out one hand like one might after washing only to discover there was no towel. "--Jus drippin oil errywhere, all down his front."
Jane swallowed the rest of her 'whisktea,' as her papa would have called it, and set the cup down. She'd fetch more after she was finished, but for the moment she had to push through to the story's end.
"The whole wall across o him, it was floor ta ceilin screens. Old and new, big and small. He was watchin... everythin. And he showed me... myself. Called hisself a director, and my biggest fan." She scowled at the idea of being a puppet to entertain such a creature as that. "T'were others on those screens. I reckon some were actual film, but the rest were like me... characters for him to... direct.
"After that, I beat a hasty retreat." I ran like whipped dog, the no-nonsense part of her mind reminded her, and she suppressed the urge to wince at her own admonishment. "When I came out, I was with y'all here. And since I'm already spinnin yarn, there was another chat I had that I reckon maybe relevant. Awhile back, a Lady Venezia paid me a visit, tryna find our favorite alchemist." She waved a hand over her shoulder to indicate this was quite a ways back.
"Cuttin to the chase, we made a deal. I help her with her manhunt, she gets me a chat with Fate." She gave a small laugh at hearing her own absurd words. "Fate said... said 'You are your own person. He did not make you what you are, he chose you because of the person you already were. But he influences things, alters things.'"
She filled her cup with more tea and whiskey and took another sip. "I been sittin on that lumpy saddle awhile," she confessed. "Didn know a proper time n place ta bring it up. But if yer all here cuz o me an my Patron, least y'all deserve is some straight shootin. So, there it is. I reckon he wants us here to handle some... unfinished business."
Jane emptied her cup a second time and stared at the dregs in its bottom while she waited for someone to respond.
Re: [Texas] Chapter 2.1: You Shouldn't Have Come Back
Returning to the rocking chair he had claimed before Ruarc settled in and drank his tea properly while Laoise followed Jane’s lead. Sipping the tea as Jane spoke, the Irishman’s demeanor became gradually more concerned, until finally upon finishing his tea he decided to skip a tea refill and simply pour whisky into the cup. Once Jane opened the floor to comments he simply let out a breath as he processed the information.
“Yeah, Ah can’t really tink of a time or metod ta naturally bring tat up in conversation,” Ruarc said simply, although the whisky made his accent slip back towards brogue. “Not exactly what Ah imagined coming up over post-dinner tea, but all te same Ah appreciate ya trusting us enough ta open up about it.”
Tipping his cup back and puffing, Ruarc scratched his head.
“Can’t rightly fault the way you handled the situation; I can sympathize a bit with feeling a bit like a puppet on a string, but that doesn’t include a larded gout spying on me.”
He looked up and around the room as though he might see a hidden camera.
“It does… make sense, in a way. Ta tat end, Ah apologize for te times Ah have utilized tat… uh, trait, like when we went ta france. Ah had made an assumption tat it was… Ah don’t even know. Probability manipulation, Ah suppose? endeavors tend ta succeed more often tan not when ya art involved.”
Until they don’t, like in France. His leg had ached for weeks from the hit he took from Alexei.
“Now, is tis simply ya getting tis off of ya chest? Or art we adding someone else ta te hit list along wit te small town warlock?”
“Yeah, Ah can’t really tink of a time or metod ta naturally bring tat up in conversation,” Ruarc said simply, although the whisky made his accent slip back towards brogue. “Not exactly what Ah imagined coming up over post-dinner tea, but all te same Ah appreciate ya trusting us enough ta open up about it.”
Tipping his cup back and puffing, Ruarc scratched his head.
“Can’t rightly fault the way you handled the situation; I can sympathize a bit with feeling a bit like a puppet on a string, but that doesn’t include a larded gout spying on me.”
He looked up and around the room as though he might see a hidden camera.
“It does… make sense, in a way. Ta tat end, Ah apologize for te times Ah have utilized tat… uh, trait, like when we went ta france. Ah had made an assumption tat it was… Ah don’t even know. Probability manipulation, Ah suppose? endeavors tend ta succeed more often tan not when ya art involved.”
Until they don’t, like in France. His leg had ached for weeks from the hit he took from Alexei.
“Now, is tis simply ya getting tis off of ya chest? Or art we adding someone else ta te hit list along wit te small town warlock?”
Re: [Texas] Chapter 2.1: You Shouldn't Have Come Back
"Ooooh, toddies!"
With a very pleased smile, Eryl poured herself some tea. Then, she sank a healthy dollop of honey into it, followed by the juice of crushed lemon wedges and a generous touch of whiskey. Cocktail made, she sipped happily, enjoying the warmth that tickled her chest and the tang that buzzed on her tongue. She wasn't sure what it said about her, but carousing with friends was the height of life.
She looked at Ruarc, a dainty little smile on her face.
We're friends, right?
Fighting a glowing redness in her face, she looked back to Jane as she began her confession.
We'll get there.
Much like the Irishman, Jane's story had a sobering effect that demanded undoing. So Eryl hung over the edge of her cup, taking to her drink quietly, running over the meaning of it all in her head. What it meant for Jane. What it meant for them. A moment... Venezia? Wasn't that one of the names of Death? Death and Fate? Reframing the story for what it was, on the sum of its parts rather than the details themselves, made her reconsider just who Jane was.
She scooted her chair back a moment before carrying on into making another moderately hot toddy.
Did that Director fellow know how she felt? Felt about Jane? How she felt about everyone? Oh. Oh, that definitely brought on a bout of lightheadedness. Those were private thoughts, just for Eryl, for which none could be privy! Defensively, she covered herself, throwing cautious glances at the windows and ceiling. Had he been watching all the time? Every time she had come to Jane's ranch? Were her visits just a side effect of this whalish pig's influence? Is that what she was? Set dressing?
A deeper, darker kernel sprouted into the cracks of her battered, patchwork soul. Eryl was no stranger to being at the mercy of some dark, evil entity. All too recently it had been banished from her life, and finding one of her dearest friends in the same situation drew terrible emotion from within her.
The triclops whipped her head from side to side; Ruarc's deeper, more native accent brought her thoughts back up to the surface with everyone else.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that..." Eryl reached out to squeeze Jane's hand but withdrew sharply, casting another glance to the windows. Immediately she regretted it, damning her self-consciousness, and sheepishly hunched over her cup. "I'm glad you told us. You shouldn't have to bear things like that alone."
The tips of one of her boots played at the heel of the other. "Not to sound like a parrot, but if your therapy demands the death of that creature, then I would happily make myself available. No one should live like that."
With a very pleased smile, Eryl poured herself some tea. Then, she sank a healthy dollop of honey into it, followed by the juice of crushed lemon wedges and a generous touch of whiskey. Cocktail made, she sipped happily, enjoying the warmth that tickled her chest and the tang that buzzed on her tongue. She wasn't sure what it said about her, but carousing with friends was the height of life.
She looked at Ruarc, a dainty little smile on her face.
We're friends, right?
Fighting a glowing redness in her face, she looked back to Jane as she began her confession.
We'll get there.
Much like the Irishman, Jane's story had a sobering effect that demanded undoing. So Eryl hung over the edge of her cup, taking to her drink quietly, running over the meaning of it all in her head. What it meant for Jane. What it meant for them. A moment... Venezia? Wasn't that one of the names of Death? Death and Fate? Reframing the story for what it was, on the sum of its parts rather than the details themselves, made her reconsider just who Jane was.
She scooted her chair back a moment before carrying on into making another moderately hot toddy.
Did that Director fellow know how she felt? Felt about Jane? How she felt about everyone? Oh. Oh, that definitely brought on a bout of lightheadedness. Those were private thoughts, just for Eryl, for which none could be privy! Defensively, she covered herself, throwing cautious glances at the windows and ceiling. Had he been watching all the time? Every time she had come to Jane's ranch? Were her visits just a side effect of this whalish pig's influence? Is that what she was? Set dressing?
A deeper, darker kernel sprouted into the cracks of her battered, patchwork soul. Eryl was no stranger to being at the mercy of some dark, evil entity. All too recently it had been banished from her life, and finding one of her dearest friends in the same situation drew terrible emotion from within her.
The triclops whipped her head from side to side; Ruarc's deeper, more native accent brought her thoughts back up to the surface with everyone else.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that..." Eryl reached out to squeeze Jane's hand but withdrew sharply, casting another glance to the windows. Immediately she regretted it, damning her self-consciousness, and sheepishly hunched over her cup. "I'm glad you told us. You shouldn't have to bear things like that alone."
The tips of one of her boots played at the heel of the other. "Not to sound like a parrot, but if your therapy demands the death of that creature, then I would happily make myself available. No one should live like that."