Participants:
| Scene Title | Get Out While You Can |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | A heart to heart between mentor and student. |
| Date | August 3, 2019 |
Ryans' Household
Not long after her fine evening obliterating ruins with Avi, Huruma found herself on a semi-diplomatic errand to Kansas City on Wolfhound's behalf. She'd told Avi she needed some time off- - and ended up suckered right into playing ball with politicos, towed along with him like a cat on a leash for a couple weeks.
She was better at it anyhow. Given politicians and the predisposed tendency to lie and omit and deceive. Manipulate. Huruma serves both as a radar and a deterrent. The trip also allows her some more intimated access to people needing to know the details of the safe zone- - and entities such as Praxis and Yamagato.
A very busy trip, it was. Once she was back, she was confident that she deserves some time free. Since her actual intended time off was hijacked. She'd been up in Rochester for a time, but as usual it doesn't take her long to come ranging like a stray back into the city. Managing the certainties between the Bunker and the Bastion takes some dull work. Someone has to, though.
Huruma hasn't a second thought on showing up at the elder Ryans' porch while she is in town; she knows he isn't around, but someone is bound to be. If not, she can have some quiet anyhow. Naturally, she has a key; it still doesn't take away that letting herself in is a very Huruma move, key or no. It's habit.
Namesake purring around her ankles, a summer breeze follows Huruma inside. Black dress, business casual, looking halfway the part of someone with meetings. The neckline is a defiant dip against that.
The front windows are open, all the windows are open come to think of it as Huruma walks up the home. Low lights, there's the smell of cooking that had been done earlier in the day. Some kind of fish.
The inside of the home is quiet, there's a stillness there as if nobody was currently home and Huruma might think so, if it were for the light flicked on the living room and the all too familiar emotional signature of Lucille Ryans. She's calm currently and in a way that Huruma also signifies that she's meditating, not disturbed by the sounds of someone entering the house no matter how quiet Huruma actually is. That damn door, she needed to put oil in the hinges before her father returned. She didn't wanna hear about how she hadn't done so when he was back… he was coming back.
Luce told herself that every time he had ever been away on his deadly missions, she wonders if he does the same for her now.
"Hey there," Comes softly from the center of the living room and when the taller woman enters she sees a cross legged Lucille on the floor facing the north of the house, toward the windows. Her head is cocked to the side and a soft smile spreads across her bare lips. She's as still as a tree, maybe an Elm. A dark gray blindfold is secured around her eyes. Playing with her range, getting nowhere but not deterred. She was just flexing her muscles and as Huruma knows her emotional signature, Lucille knew her Aunt was in the room. The cadence of the darker woman's heartbeat… its rhythm. It speaks to her, echoes down her spine in familiarity.
Pale hands calmly placed on her knees in a light embrace, loose long black pants and a white tank top cover there. A long grown cold cup of tea sits on the coffee table with no coaster. Lucille's living on the edge in her father's home. There's a half empty bottle of tequila on one of the end tables.
Plus, not many other people have a key. She wasn't expecting Delia. If it was her redheaded sister, she had gotten a whole lot better at being calm. A state of being that isn't just defined by the mental but by the body's movements and tensions as well. "Trying to sense how someone is moving without looking, pinpoint specific movements." Before Huruma laughs at her.
However it is that Lucille's mind's eye sees people, Huruma can only imagine it similar to her own; she may miss the physical beats, but the winding of something familiar remains. Her own beat to Lucille is steady, strong, a relaxed ba-bump. She stays in the entrance to the living room for a few moments, head canted and eyes on Lucille. The tricks she's taught her have lasted and grown into Lu's own ritual. Different, anyway.
Though, Huruma knows it isn't growing as much as it could. The healing had been a hopeful look, but- - not Lu's doing after all. There is no answer to the hello; not a normal one, anyway. One by one Huruma leans back, foot lifting to pry heels free and collect them in between fingers. They find a perch beside one of the lounge chairs, with their owner sliding into the seat. Normally she might join Lucille down there, but, maybe not right away this time. This is her way, not Huruma's.
"That sounds as if it would require a more intimate connection." The dark woman answers after a moment, eyes hooded and legs crossed, arms spread to rest on the chair. "Memorization, I mean."
Ruma comes stepping through, expression blase as she squeezes into Lucille's lap and ragdolls there.
"I can pick you and family out easier than others, the other Hounds." Luce replies easily as the cat enters and lays in her lap. Scratching at the ears with a faint smile, "You had quite a trip?" A raise of an eyebrow. It's funny the way they sit, it could be mistaken for one of their many many training/practice sessions.
There's something nagging at her mind but for as calm and collected the Ryans woman has grown to be.. There's always something on her mind. Whether it be buried beneath now years of mediation and discipline or not.
Her smile is easy, "You and Dad… off on adventures and I'm at home. Who the fuck would have called that?" Uncrossing her legs after picking Ruma up and placing the feline on the floor, she stands. "I was going to open some wine, want?" It's not a welcome home without booze, The Hound Way.
One foot tucks behind the other as Huruma settles in, taking a moment for meditation of her own. A long day, perhaps? Something of the sort.
"It was… a trip, yes." Eyes having closed, one slits open at Lucille. "Someone has to spot Avi when Francois can't." The task seems to fall on her more often than it had, with Hana around; at least taking her lets them filter Bullshit much more effectively than before. "It was fun, I suppose." One hand gestures vaguely from its lounging perch on the armchair..
"Your father is on some kind of adventure. I am a little envious, to be honest. Or, I may just be so weary that anything else sounds lovely." Huruma breathes out through her nose and keeps an eye on the cat who headbutts against her calves. "Wine included. Just a glass, we'll see after that…"
"Keep him in line is what I feel like you would have been doing." A bemused expression on her face, she's at ease here in this moment. Surrounded by the familial energy, both from the house and Huruma herself. Fun, there would be more time for Lucille to dig into what kind of fun exactly happened, knowing her pseudo Aunt, it was always dangerously good.
There's a roll of her eyes from the kitchen as she brings down two glasses and grabs the bottle that was just sitting on the counter already. Red, pricey. The good stuff. "He gets healed from cancer, has a second chance again. Is this is fourth or fifth shot? I'm not sure. To raise his youngest girl and he goes…" Gesturing with her arm as she reenters the living room and rolls her eyes again before looking down at the ground as she walks and settles back in on the floor, uncorking the wine in silence.
"Adam and…" Her movements are applied with a noticeable bit of pressure as her emotions start to darken slightly. Anger, distrust. There's a venom laying there, "His old employers…? Colleagues? They've come back as ghosts to fuck up his peace." Both glasses are filled halfway and since they are wide glasses at that, the bottle stands almost empty. It's okay, she has more where that came from. "I understand why he has to do it." There's a pause in Lucille before her eyes lift to Huruma's own pale ones as she passes the glass, "And why you would long to be there."
They hadn't spoken too much of Huruma's involvement with Adam, not as it became more and more clear how connected the immortal was to her father. "This all…" Waving out into the air with her free hand as she takes a sip of her wine. " Must put you in a real, weird position." That venom, as dark and violate as it is, is washed away with concern for the older woman. Wafting through the darker emotions, "You have a strong, emotional history to both. Both real life long friends, people who understand you and don't judge you. I wouldn't question your loyalty to us but… it must feel weird for you. I'm sorry." In that moment Lucille tries to put herself in her mentor's shoes and how awkward Adam being back and becoming more and more of everyone's focus it must be.
Luce smiles softly nevertheless, trying to sense herself how the taller woman feels. "What if the three of you did like.. A mission. And all your memories were wiped." The thought of her father, Huruma and Adam Monroe working together just seemed unfair to whoever their opposition would be.
Silence precludes a staring contest with the cat, who hops up on the arm of Huruma's chair and into a waiting scratch. As Lucille sits herself back down, the older woman watches her with a passingly tired air, which only seems to grow a shade more gray. She meets Lucille's gaze as she takes the wine, giving the glass and amount a small, playful roll of her eyes. What else could she expect?
"Weird doesn't even begin to describe it." Huruma mutters, plying herself with a taste from her glass, mouth pressing flat just after. "Adam has done some things in recent weeks that make me question just how judging he is. But, yes, it's complicated… and do not worry, I've gone over loyalty already. I think Avi had been afraid to get into it, but once he did it seemed to relieve him. I'm still… conflicted, but- -"
Huruma stalls, and settles into a small laugh, eyes sharpening.
"In another life that was not terribly far from reality. Sad to say I do not think it worked out, in the end, though not for lack of love." She is purposefully obscure, and the twinge to the lines of her face cause her expression to shift. Steely. "Megan has been helping me to feel out where I stand on… everything, lately. My children, Adam, your father, Wolfhound, god knows what else. Sometimes we just stay awake talking about nothing important at all. It is nice." Huruma hesitates, then adds one murmured addendum, "Not that I do not love and appreciate you, too."
All that radiates from Lucille in this present moment is openness and a mild understanding and although Lucille doesn't have old immortal allies running around she can shift and relate the whole thing to her own experience. "I would never worry about you and loyalty." Lucille reaffirms and smiles a small smile."You and Dad have lived so many different lives… it's a wonder it took this long for a conflict of interest to arise, in this manner at least." Rolling her eyes at the phrase, there had been no conflict yet.
Hearing of her other mentor makes Lucille grin, "I once showed up to the hospital and didn't tell her. She promptly chewed me out." Sipping more wine with a laugh and those gray blue eyes of her slide over the living room window watching the sky continue to change as night fully settles in.
"Well I love and appreciate you too." Lucille nods and leans back further, "This stuff though…' Lucille's expression grows dark and she looks down, "All that's connected to Adam and this thing. It has.." Luce hasn't talked to many people about this and her spine has a chill crawl up its spine and sprinkle out at the crown of her head. "It's eyes are like mine." The younger woman whispers and takes a deeper pull of her wine glass."I'm not sure if that means anything."
She would hope not.
The last true conflicts lied far in the past; Huruma, where it matters, has lucked out one time too many. Bound to happen.
"If you sneak up on her, do it on her breaks." Huruma advises mutely when it comes to Megan, "I am always there, though. The staff knows me." It's an understatement to some degree. For her part, the older woman falls to quiet when it appears that Lucille has something pressing on her mind. Even before she says anything, Huruma has set her drink aside momentarily in a gesture of attentiveness. Her own strange eyes follows the course of Lu's invisible chill, lids hooded as she does so.
"Yes. Yes they are." Of course she's noticed. Rather than feed straight into Lucille's wavering fears of it meaning something, Huruma leans back again with a pensive expression, brow knit back at her ward. "Who can tell? Perhaps it does. Perhaps it doesn't. If it does, do not fear the fact. It is just you. Your eyes. Your gift. Even if something else is there."
"I was born with these." Huruma lifts a hand to gesture at her own eyes, pupils dark and widened in the relaxed lamplight. "Perhaps it means something to someone. Perhaps not. My point is, they are yours." While she knows a great deal on the Entity that Lucille may not- - Huruma refrains from disseminating it from both a personal standpoint and a practical one. Memetics, you know. Voice at a low timbre, Huruma angles her head in question. "What would you do if they did? Mean something?"
Huruma's words bring a smile to Lucille's face, the doubt and fear slowly being washed away by the insurging tide of reassurance, peace.
Nodding her head slowly, "That is all true. It is so unnerving though, I have to admit." Being shaken by something isn't weakness, not when you're with family especially Lucille feels. "I just worry, I'm not sure.." The worry creeps back slowly but doesn't overtake her emotional state. "If we're all connected somehow. If whatever connects us can I don't know… take us over." Luce shivers at the thought of not being in total control of her body and mind.
She knows it's a fear that there's nothing she can do about though, "But maybe you're right. Maybe they are just mine. I was going to talk to Julie about it. Just poke her brain about that, maybe I should go see Meg then too." A small grin to lighten the mood, "With a flash of whiskey."
"It could happen. Possession. It's not a far cry. But in the end, if what I understand about this is truth… it won't matter what color your eyes are. I know what it feels like to lose agency- -" Huruma's reply is more stoic this time, vaguely bitter for the rest. "We are all at risk. I am not sure if that makes it better or worse. But trust if something does happen, you have people behind you."
Of course she does.
Huruma gives Lucille a crooked smile at mention of visiting Megan. "I think she would like that. We've had some fun. I stay with her now when I'm in town; her neighbor does not like me so much." Her hand scrubs her chin in exaggerated consideration, and the large cat edges its way across her lap rather than the chair's armrest. Hand drops to fluffy fur, fingertips disappearing.
People behind her, it gives Lucille comfort. "I know I'm being silly," About the eyes maybe even narcissistic.
It's nice to move back to more calm subjects, or as calm as you can get when it comes to Megan, Huruma and Lucille. "I remember during the war, one night the four of us around the fire. You.. dad… Meg.. telling your stories. I realized then just how long you all had been in this," Her Mentors, the adults who really saw Lucille grow slowly from the emotionally distressed young woman she had been.
"It made me so much more in awe of you all, I just… have wanted to be as strong." But even hearing that Huruma herself has dealt with losing herself…
"We do have a lot of stories." Huruma murmurs, head tilting. "All of us do not know much else aside from war. But you?" Leaning forward, the older woman stares Lucille down, just a touch. "You can break that chain. Because you are strong, and you know that already."
"You do not need to deal with what we do, anymore. The world needs leaders, not soldiers. There are already enough."
"Break the chain…" Lucille repeats and slowly nods, truth be told she feels like the real leaders are going to be Pippa's generation. Nodding her head in thanks to being called strong, it's all the younger woman wanted.
"I think Pippa will be president before me. Being a solider.. I don't think I understood the draw before. Not truly, it's…" struggling to find the words, there's a spike of anxiety, "Intoxciating, addicting." There's a slight shrug, "It's why I joined the Hounds. I just couldn't stop."
"I was born into this." Huruma is blunt. "If as a girl I was offered a normal life, the likelihood is that I would have taken it. But knowing nothing else, well…" Her eyes seem to dance from hope to sadness and deeper still, a multitude that leaves her more sober than moments before. Lucille can feel the touch of something more physical straining at her. Nothing specific. Phantom pain with. an. obscure source.
"After my first kill I was ashamed but proud of. In time my mind was out of control and the world was even more unkind. And I had to kill. First to survive, and then…. I enioyed it. Now I have more control but I still feel that addiction."
"I am a cautionary tale. Get out if you want to, while you are young."
Lucille didn't feel young, not anymore but she knew that was laughable when compared with her father and Huruma's histories.
The younger of the two leans foward and places a hand on Huruma's knee, gripping it and nodding along. "I wish you got to know life beyond all of this, but I'm grateful you know as much as you do and have imparted some of that wisdom to me." Luce was almost hopeless when they first met. A emotionally disturbed mess of a young woman, it's sometimes embarrassing to think about how much of that (all) that Huruma was feeling when around her back then.
The talk of addiction makes Lucille think of the serum that made all Evolved persons feel like true Gods. That's not something she's willing to address, not yet. "To while I'm young then," raising her glass for a toast. "May I live life not on a battlefield."
Clink.
It rings as a half truth.