Participants:
| Scene Title | Die Happy, Reprise |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | What will you ask, while we wait for the past to arrive? |
| Date | June 20, 2021 |
Fourth day in a row.
Four days on Robyn has been awake just as the sun crests over the horizon, breaking her from whatever little slumber she's managed to catch in the intervening hours since she collapsed into her thick little cot of a bed. It's with a groan that she stirs, eyes fluttering open as she lays on her side, staring into darkness.
Well, darkness to anyone else.
With a groan she huddles closer under her blanket, huffing out a heavy sigh. Today is to be a long day. More people to talk to, top of her list being a woman who is both a Captain of the Pelago and the doppelganger of one of her best and longest friends - it's one Robyn doesn't want to do, but so far all signs point to Roux at least being friends with Stef, and the hope is that she can point her in the right direction.
But first, she has to get up and get ready to face the day.
Lowes
Robyn's Room
The Pelago
It's times like this that Robyn is thankful she can see in the dark. It saves her stumbling about as she pulls herself up to her feet, a necessity in a place rationing power as much as the Pelago is. Her hand runs down her face as she looks down at her bag and clothes. Crouching down, she flips open the satchel and pulls out her notebook.
Flipping it open, even a week in it presents an interesting chronicle of the days since her arrival in the Pelago. In this timeline. It still feels surreal, but not as surreal as the notebook's content. Several pages of musical notation are flipped past, followed by collections of lyrics. The notebook had been one of the first things she acquired after arrival, not questioning how it was put together given the scarcity of resources.
More telling were the back pages, where numerous successive notes, charts of events, and relationship charts have been scribbled. She had spent her nights playing music publicly for the first time in nearly a decade, her days had been spent trying to track down Robyn Roux, a train of thought that still is hard to swallow. Closing the notebook, she tosses it on to her cot and picks up her pants off the floor.
It's not the only notebook on the floor, the second more well worn and doggeared. Pants buttoned, she bends back down and picks up the notebook. It feels surreal, holding it in her possession - the last musical journal of Else Kjelstrom, for the second time. It feels like an omen even beyond the likely prophetic lyrics contained within. The memory of what came after she received Else's final creations the last time is one that will never leave her, etched into her memory like a tattoo - old, worn, maybe a bit distorted with time… but forever present.
There's still solace that maybe, just maybe, she can prevent this world's Else from meeting the same fate. There has to be that redemption waiting at the end of this for her previous failure to do so. The alternative is just too much for her heart to bear.
So much so that the ache she feels brings her hand to rest over her heart, eyes closed as she takes a deep breath and tries to push the thought out of mind. Worst case scenario… at least maybe they could go out together, if they really are stuck here. Her, Else, her mom, dad, and…
Her eyes open slowly as her thoughts drift quickly back to her doppleganger. The journal is tossed on to the bed and she sighs. A hand reaches up and runs down her face, shaking her head as she grabs a shirt and pulls it on. Against all odds, she misses her suit.
She misses the whole ritual. Getting up in the morning to something quick to eat, checking on Matthew, making sure he was ready for the school day. Pressed blue suits and blazers, some more ornate than others, gone through and chosen. Making sure her Awasu was charged and the building security was on before hurrying Matthew into the car to drop him at the Roosevelt Ferry. Coming back to her house to gather any materials she needed for the day, and then if she was feeling adventurous taking her Ventus to catch the Fort Jay ferry for work.
It gives her a moment of pause. It's rare that she thinks about what a creature of habit she has become.
Straightening the Destiny's Child shirt she bartered for - dated 2009, apparently she's building a collection of t-shirts of bands and groups that didn't break up in this world - she picks up a knife off the floor next to her cot. The other thing she misses is her sword; not for some wanton need to look like a badass, but because she feels vulnerable without some form of protection, a fact she would admit to almost no one. She had already worked out a deal to get a low quality one shaped like what she was familiar with from Marlowe, but it wouldn't be the same.
The knife's sheathe is clipped her waist and she exhales slowly. A cane would be another thing she might need to ask for; the constant rain and storms would bringing her unexpected twinges of pain in the leg she had been shot in a year ago. She wasn't about to ask for a second bladed weapon, like the swordcane she'd carried back home, but she needed something. Maybe an umbrella, the best of both worlds. That would be a tough barter right now, with all the rain though.
She hates admitting that a cane would be helpful to her, particularly given her insistence that she doesn't need one. It only heightens that feeling of vulnerability.
With a groan she stretches, feeling that twinge of pain in her leg acutely as she closes her eyes and winces. "Fuuuuuuck" drifts her lips lazily as she rolls her shoulders and sighs. Today wasn't a day to think about the pain in her leg. Today was a day for…
Well, she hadn't decided yet, and probably wouldn't until she was out and about for the day, continuing poking around the Pelago. She was starting to get used to the place, something which sat slightly ill with her. How long would they be here? Would they ride out the storm? Do they have time to ride out the storm? Or would they make it to Alaska, and she would just… stay there with this world version of her parents, Nova, and hopefully her own doppelganger?
Would they need to rely on her mad plan to get home? Or would providence provide them a means to reopen the way back?
Either way, the Pelago was becoming increasingly more familiar every day. She knows there's some sort of meeting today to begin things moving, hopefully, despite the storm. She is anxious about many things, but at least that can solve a few of them. A hand runs over her mouth as she stares down at the threadbare floor of her room and the few papers, clothes, and items that scatter across it.
She can't help but think about what didn't make it across the threshold to this world, all the things lost when - whatever the fuck had happened at the oil rig went down. Sure, losing her sword sucks. Losing supply sucks. But the thing that hurts most is losing the pictures she had tucked away in a copy of Jane Eyre; a beloved book to read, with pictures of beloved people to keep her grounded, chief among them a picture of Matthew, to help remind her what she had waiting for her when she got back.
Hopefully.
Hopefully, by the time she got back, he, Elaine, and the others would be back from their little adventure in the past. Hopefully they would be unscathed. Hopefully, the promise that had been made to her that they would be looking for them would be kept. Hopefully… a lot of things. Hopefully she doesn 't go mad thinking about it.
But it's so very hard to not think about it. Matthew is the one thing that keeps her from resigning herself to staying here forever, regardless of what means and ways back open up to them. How could she? How could she be that selfish, do that to the young boy she didn't even want to leave in the first place? Given a real choice, she wouldn't even be here, and that fact still rests plainly in her mind.
And yet, the idea of staying has occurred to her so much since she arrived. It's so different here. There's the illusion of something resembling peace. Life is hard but… a different sort of hard. Less investigations. Less serial killers. Less… trouble for her to get into, maybe. It's hard to put into concrete thought, the feeling this world gives her. But it's a feeling she's wanted since the war.
The feeling of not wanting to be a hero, a ferryman, an agent The feeling of just wanting to be herself, in whatever final shape that takes. The same feeling that once almost drove her to abandon the Ferry's cause for Quebec, both during and after the war. Before, it had been Colette and Cat that had talked her out of such drastic things. This time, Matthew was the canary in the coalmine, letting her know that something was wrong and that her thoughts were drifting too far and too dangerously.
With a sigh, she lowers herself back down to her cot, legs pulled up so she can sit cross legged facing the window. Leaning forward, she picks her notebook back up, the one she's been keeping as a journal, both of song ideas and of the days that pass her by. The urge to go back to sleep and dream of a world where she gets to just be herself AND be a mother rises up in her, but instead she flips open the notebook, pulling a pencil with no eraser from the spiral binding.
As she writes, she frowns, her thoughts continuing to drift. How could she be so selfish? Easily, it turns out. Hell, she couldn't even keep a promise to be less of an alcoholic - a thought punctuated with a glance up to two bottles of whiskey, one of which is decidedly empty. She'd thought maybe, just maybe, after Sadler, after getting out of the hospital, it'd be fine. She was post detox at that point. But bad habits are hard to break, and those bad habits had even led her to Wonderland a time or two, something that almost anyone else would be furious with her about if they knew. At least she hadn't started doing drugs again too, as tempting as the thought occasionally was.
On top of that, she'd been so far unable to keep her promise to stop looking for trouble, to be less involved in such perilous work. Matthew's own unfortunate adventure was irrelevant to that point in her eyes. Her inability to shake her thrill seeking nature had long ago started to give away to self loathing, even as it feels less and less like who she wants to be. But that's been the crux of her problem for years now, hasn't it?
Just who is Robyn Roux, besides an anxious, alcoholic bundle of self loathing trying to pass herself off as a mother and hero?
The pencil is lowered to rest against the page, her thoughts for the morning scribbled down hastily. She stares at the page as silence settle across the room, and for a moment she feels like maybe she will let herself drift back off to sleep after all.
At least, until the sound of a whine and a groan that doesn't come from her reaches her ears.
In a surprisingly deft motion, she snaps open the sheathe on her knife and pulls it loose, rising to her feet as she tries to ignore that twinge of pain in her leg and spins, brandishing the knife out as she prepares to defend herself against some sort of attacker or invader.
What she finds isn't a menace who has come to accost her, some asshole who takes issue with her presence, or someone just looking to prove her thought about this place being a different kind of dangerous wrong. It's not even Richard having snuck into her room early morning to discuss something of great importance before whatever meeting happens today.
Instead there's a girl - a woman - sitting in the sole chair in her small makeshift apartment, stretching her arms as fingers barely peak out of an oversized Kara's Flowers hoodie, legs pulled up to her stomach as she rubs at her eyes.
As the woman's hands lower Robyn is stunned silent, her hand trembling as the knife's grip rattles against one of her rings. It's impossible to not know who she's looking at, who has somehow found their way into her room.
It's her. It's Robyn Roux.
Roux lets her arms fall down limp to her side, taking a deep breath and yawning as she lowers her feet down to the floor. A second time she rubs at her eyes, head bobbing side to side as she looks around in a bleary haze. Tugging at her much too long sleeves, she frowns as she looks around, before her eyes finally settle on Robyn.
Robyn lowers her knife, and uncertain what else to do, raises her hand and gives a small, awkward wave, fingers curling in and then back out as her lips twist into an uneasy expression.
Her eyes fluttering as she blinks, Roux watches the wave for a long moment, before her eyes widen and her shoulders stiffen. "Eep!" she cries out, before scrambling to her feet as vanishing from sight.
Or she would have vanished, to anyone else except Robyn, who can still see the shimmering outline of her silhouette in the dark, faint lines of light blurring as she turns and begins to back slowly towards the door. It's something she hasn't experienced since missions with Colette, and at any other point it might once more dominate her attention.
Instead, she's quick to dart forward, reaching to grip a hand on Roux's shoulder. "W-Wait! I'm not- going to hurt you!" Despite that, her grip tightens a bit. "Please. Don't go. I didn't come all the way across the universe just to lose you here."
As Robyn's hand lands on her shoulder, Roux freezes in place. She trembles and shakes, something about Robyn's words failing to put her at ease. "H-how can you see me?" is her first question, spoken in a low, quiet voice.
"Because my ability lets me- do that. How can you turn invisible? I haven't been able to do that for years…" Robyn releases Roux's shoulder, reaching up and tapping a finger against her doppelganger's cheek. There's a rush of energy from finger to cheek, and instantly Roux's invisibly fails. "I can also cancel out other photokinetics."
Roux lets out another yelp, jumping to the side and into the wall, wincing a bit as she does. "Ooow…" she drolls out, rubbing a hand at the back of her head. "I'm not- that thing you said," she remarks absently, frowning as she looks back up at the other woman. "Mon dieu, es-tu aussi grossier avec tous ceux que tu rencontres?1"
"What? That's-" Robyn stops, pinching the bridge of her nose before she raises both her hands and backs away from her other self - she doesn't have the energy to argue the semantics of photokinesis, it's too early for that. "Je suis désolé. Je… je ne sais pas vraiment quoi faire. Je n'ai jamais rencontré l'un de mes autres moi avant.2"
Rubbing at her cheek, Roux looks uncertain, maybe even a little scared. Still, she pushes away from the wall and moves to stand across from Robyn, eyeing her suspiciously. "Well, not skulking around trying to hunt me down mighta been a good start. Wasn't hard to hear you were lookin' for me." Her hands fold in front of her, and she rocks back and forth on her heels. "I wasn't trying to hide, I just… I value my privacy."
Robyn watches Roux for a moment, the way she sways back and forth, the demeanor with which she speaks. "I'm sorry," she repeats. "I wasn't meaning to invade your privacy or make you uneasy. Just… no one knew where I could find you. Not even your friends." After a moment, her head cants to the side. "You seem rather unfazed that I'm here, talking to you. I'm sure some word's getting around about who I am, but-"
"You're a traveler," Roux interjects impassively, giving a casual shrug of her shoulders. "From another world. Seems pretty straightforward to me."
The comment puts Robyn back on the backfoot, blinking in surprise. "You are handling this much better than I did. How did you know that?"
"Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagnes." The way Roux intentionally draws out his name, smiling afterwards, makes it clear she's thrilled to know something she maybe shouldn't.
"Holy shit, right. You were in the Arcology." Robyn bunches her nose as she regards Roux for a moment longer, not entirely thrilled to hear that name. "Magnes is a friend of mine. Was a friend of mine. It's- we've always had a tumultuous relationship. I-" He lips quirk side to side, and she sighs. "I think we're getting off on the wrong foot. I'm sorry."
Offering a hand to Roux, she gives a soft smile. "Robyn Janestine Roux. It's a pleasure to meet you." Why she uses her full name is unclear even to her. "I have some… things I want to talk to you about."
"Janestine? That's a silly name," Roux offers with a snicker and a snort, a wide and amused smile adorning her face.
Robyn looks taken aback for a moment, furrowing her brow. "I- what? I mean, it's just the middle name dad picked out for me. Which is-" Robyn sucks in a breath. "Well. We'll get there."
Roux stares at Robyn, giving her an assessing look. "He called you Quinn," she notes with just a mild hint of suspicion. Still, her feet flatten on the ground and she extends one hand out to take Robyn's, her grip extremely loose. "Robyn Zahava Roux," she shares with distinct emphasis, immediately causing Robyn's eyebrows to shoot up in curiosity. "You know, just the middle name dad picked out for me." She gives Robyn's hand a shake, and then resumes rocking on her heels.
"Za… hava?" Robyn stares ahead blankly, still trying to process this particular difference between her and… herself?
"Yep!" With a wide smile, Roux shrugs. "That's what I said!"
"You- your dad is Richard Drucker, then." Robyn blinks again, letting a mystified huuuuh.
"Yep!" is repeated, Roux still smiling wide. "Isn't yours?"
"I mean, yes, but- fuck," Robyn huffs out a breath, looking off to the side. She waits a moment before turning and walking back to her cot. With a groan and a wince, she sits down at it's edge, rubbing at the side of her leg. "It's complicated. Magnes called me Quinn because that was my… I guess, my step father's name. That's the name I was raised with. Dad died when I was… weeks old, where I come from." And that is a gross simplification of that situation.
A silence falls between the two of them, Roux finally letting her feet settle flat on the floor again, She frowns deeply, moving to sit down in the chair she had fallen asleep in. Once more she pulls her legs up to her chest, resting her chin against her knees. "I'm sorry," she says quietly.
Robyn stares down at the floor, letting out a heavy sigh. "I changed my name to match mom's last year. I used to go by Quinn, which- a lot of people still call me. But most people I'm close to call me Robyn now."
"Aw, why not go by Roux! It works for me!" A small, pensive smile is hidden behind her knees, but the tone of her voice carries a bit of much needed whimsicality to it.
"Because I have an ex-girlfriend named Rue, and I just do not want to open that can of worms." A small chuckle slips from Robyn as she thinks back to her old Rue Roux joke she used to torture Rue with.
This time, it's Roux's turn to be caught off guard, mimicking the expression and flutter of her eyes that Robyn had given her earlier, and even repeating the same huuuuuuuuh sound. It takes her a moment to regain her thoughts, looking up at the ceiling.
"When you were going around, you were asking about me and my mom. That's… why I snuck in here, last night when you were finishing that bottle of whiskey. Gross, by the way." There's definitely a judgemental tone in her voice at that, fingers tapping against the denim of her jeans. "I didn't mean to fall asleep, but, ah… that's very much what happened," she adds sheepishly, before closing her eyes.
"I think mom's dead," she admits after a moment of silence. "I'm still trying to- find her, to verify that. But… it's not looking good. Why are you so interested in her?"
Robyn winces at the comment about her mom being dead. Well, here it was. The topic she'd been dancing around since this conversation started is now front and center. She sits in silence for a long moment, before looking up and trying to capture Roux's gaze. "What if I told you she's not?"
Roux's eyes immediately widen, mouth opening to protest, and Robyn holds a hand to trying and get her to wait. "Let me explain before you get too excited, please." Roux slinks down in her chair a bit more, but nods.
"Where I come from, we, uh. We managed to make contact with a woman named Nova Van Dalen," she starts, looking down at the floor. "She may as well be your sister, taken in by Drucker after the flood, and before too long, mom joined them. They're in Alaska, at an absolutely cursed place called Mount Natazhat." The way that name just rolls off her tongue now bothers her to no end.
"In my world, we need tech Drucker created to help prevent a disaster that's- coming to… my world." This is the part that hurts. It hurts so much, lying to herself about the fate that awaits her and this world. The words are strained, choked, teeming with uncertainty, but spoken nonetheless. "That tech exists here too, so we found a way to send a few people here to meet with them and retrieve it. Thing is, everyone thought you died at the arcology, so they sent me instead. We're going to be embarking on a cross cou-"
"Yes!" The words practically tumbles out of Roux's mouth, a mix of eager excitement and shock clear in her voice. Silence settles for a moment as she stands there, just as suddenly leaping up to her feet.
"I- let me finish, because it'll be dangerous, and-"
"I don't care!" Roux interrupts, crossing the rest of the distance between her and Robyn. She reaches forward and takes her hands. "I can handle dangerous! Everyone thinks I can't, but- but I can! I promise!"
Robyn bunches her nose, looking up at Roux with no small amount of disbelief. "Really?"
Releasing Robyn's hands, Roux looks more than a little shocked. "I mean, yeah? Why is- is that such a surprise?"
Thinking for a moment, Robyn raises a finger, and then recoils it as she further considers her response. "I was… under the impression that when you drowned during the flood, it left you with some, ah. Handicaps?"
Roux's hands immediately move to her hips. "That's some rude ass ableist bullshit." There's venom in those words, Robyn noticing it's the first time she's heard Roux really curse during this conversation. "What the heck?" A disappointed look crosses her face, abruptly raising one foot and kicking Robyn in the shin. On her bad leg.
"Ow! Fuck!" And now it's pure disdain that Robyn feels as she glares at her variant. "Jesus, you couldn't have kicked my other leg?! Christ, of course you pick the one-"
"The one that hurts, I know," Roux replies sternly. "C'mon! I may not- be at 100% but I can help! I promise! We all have our weaknesses, and you literally were about to ask me if I wanted to come!"
"I know!" Robyn's protest is a hollow one as she rubs at her leg. "I just wanted you to understand the danger and what's at stake!" She pauses for a moment, eyes narrowing as she regards Roux with curiosity. "Wait. How did you know my leg hurt?"
"Because you favoured it when I was following you last night, and again just now pacing around the room. When you sat down, you winced and rubbed it. If I had to guess you either pulled a muscle or… with all your talk of danger, it's an old injury that still hurts after healing. Bet the storm's making it even worse, too." Roux nods, concluding her reasoning with another beaming smile.
"Huh." Robyn falls silent for a long moment, before looking back down at the floor. "That's- That's exactly right, actually. I got shot last year, and then reopened the wound when I was probably killed in a home invasion last year. Shattered the bone in my leg. That's- damn, kid. That's good."
Roux's expression immediately sours at the word kid, but she isn't given time to dwell on it. "I'm sorry, when you probably what?"
"Don't worry about it," Robyn remarks quickly and dismissively.
"I'm gonna!" Roux exclaims in protest. "You don't just-"
"So. You're coming, then?" Breezing past Roux's concern, Robyn takes a deep breath. "I'm glad. I just… like I said, I wanted you to understand how dangerous it will probably be. But I get it, you can handle it. Please don't kick me again."
Swallowing down a lump in her throat, Roux nods. "Yeah. I want to go. There's nothing I want more, and- I dunno. Maybe it's because of what Magnes said, or maybe because I just… know, but I trust you. So I'm gonna go." Making her way back to her seat, she settles back down into it again, turning it to face Robyn.
"My… hands have been in, ah. Um." She stops and blinks, having lost the words she was going to say, and it takes her a moment to get them back. "My hands have been in bad shape since the flood. I can't- use them like I used to. They hurt most of the time, and it only gets worse when I try to do things like… write, or use tools, or play a guitar." The last one in particular makes Robyn wince. "So you're not wrong. But I don't care. I can manage. Just maybe don't be an arsehole about it again?"
Before Robyn can speak up again, Roux continues on. "You mentioned, um, Nova? Ah, um. Adopted sister? Really? Have… you met her?"
It's a slow nod that Robyn gives in return. "I have. She's wonderful. You can absolutely tell Drucker- dad was the one to take her in. She's here in the Pelago, she picked us up when we arrived. She's our Captain and is basically… sponsoring and shepherding us through this whole crazy endeavour back to Alaska."
With a gentle smile, Robyn chuckles quietly. "I think the two of you will get along quite well. I can take you to our boat if you want to meet her. Maybe some of my other friends will be there. Probably Richard if no one else."
"Oooh, I don't know a Richard!" Roux interjects excitedly.
"You literally know our dad," Robyn counters back with a laugh genuine enough that it catches her off guard.
"That doesn't cooooount!" Roux protests, leaning forward and sticking out her tongue at Robyn.
"Sure thing, kid." Robyn doesn't see the glare Roux gives her, instead closing her eyes and leaning forward on the edge of her cot. "Truth is… I don't know that we're going to be able to go home, us travelers. I- don't really like it. I didn't want to come, I have a son-"
"You have a son?!" Roux's eyes are wide, a look somewhere between horror and amazement on her face.
Robyn's lips press thin at that. "I hate that everyone acts like that about it, but yes. I adopted a boy a fews back. It's important to me I get back to him, but that just… that just may not be possible. We don't know yet."
"Why don't you just… go back the way you came?" Roux leans forward, clearly curious about how they got here to begin with. "Did you use one of those Through The Looking Glass things like in the Ark? Oh! Is Mateo with you?!"
The look Robyn gives Roux is one of utter shock and surprise, still caught off guard by how much the other woman seems to know and understand. "We can't," she says in a low voice. "The way back is closed, all we can do now is find the way forward and hope it leads home." She doesn't even begin to think about how to address if Mateo is there.
"I'm sorry…" It's a more genuine apology, or at least commiseration, than any of the other ones Roux has given Robyn over the course of the conversation. "That really sucks. What're you going to do if you have to stay?"
The corners of Robyn's lips twitch before curling in the most pensive of small smiles. "I'm hoping I can stay with you, with mom and dad and Nova. But we'll… cross that bridge when we get to it. I'd be thrilled if we could, I don't know. Be sisters? though."
"Oh, duh. Of course!" Roux's posture straightens, once again preening as she smiles wide. "I mean… it would be silly for us to not be!" After a moment, she wrinkles her nose. "But we can't both be sisters named Robyn. That's weird. Isn't that weird?"
"It's weird," Robyn confirms with a hearty laugh. "I was thinking… what if neither of us is Robyn?" She raises an eyebrow studying her other self for a long moment. "It might take some people time to get used to, but that seems the most fair, don't you think?" A hand rubs at her chin as she considers further. "We can't both be Roux either. And I believe I saw Natalie LeRoux here as well, so-
"Zahava!" Roux proclaims suddenly, her expression brightening at the though. "Or Zee, if people have trouble with it. And!" She pauses, pointing over at Robyn. "Jane!"
"Absolutely fucking not," Robyn offers in one of the quickest rebuttals of her life, but punctuated with a mirthful laugh. "I'm not exactly big on my middle name. Though I'll take it over what my step dad almost called me."
"Yeah?" There's genuine curiosity from Roux - Zee - as she tilts her head and regards Robyn with curiosity.
"Justice," is said with the hiss of someone speaking a cursed word not meant to be heard by human ears, Robyn shaking her head. "It's awful."
"Gross." The single word sums up Zee's thoughts on the matter pretty succinctly, but in almost the same moment, she's thinking again. "I mean… you said a lotta people already call you Quinn."
"I guess I did," Robyn remarks with a laugh, a bit of red and light touching her cheeks as she's embarrassed over the fact that she didn't arrive at the obvious answer quicker. That's twice her other self had outfoxed her. "That settles it then. Quinn and Zahava Roux, taking the world by storm. Man, that would've been a hell of a headline when I was doing concerts."
"Yeah!" Zee seems incredibly excited by this turn of events, any early quibbles either forgotten or filed away for later. "Wait, concerts?! Okay. You've got to tell me about how things are where you come from! Start with…" Narrowing her eyes, she looks over Robyn, and then raises a finger and points it at her face. "Start with how you got that wicked scar that I've been dying to ask about all morning!"
Robyn's eyes widen, a hand rising to reflexively rub at her cheek and scar. She frowns, looking away from Zee. "I'd rather not. It's a long story, full of sighs. Besides, I didn't come all the way across the universe just to tell you sad stories about the worst times of my life. "
"Nuh uh! You gotta!" Zee laughs as she leans forward, though it's not a mean laugh - one that seems to indicate she's finally found her stride in the conversation, a happy medium between the uncertainty and the dourness, the past and the future. In this moment, she is simply thrilled to have a sister.
Robyn rolls her eyes and sighs, arms slacking as she deflates visibly.
"Fine."
The meeting today probably didn't matter anyway.