Memories And Trust


sable_icon.gif ygraine_icon.gif

Scene Title Memories and Trust
Synopsis A task for the Ferry turns into a frank exchange of views on quite another topic.
Date July 3 2010

Gun Hill: Sable's Apartment

Sable's job-hunting clothes, which are the same as her date clothes and her night-out clothes and basically are just her only nice clothes, are strewn across her bed, and the dark haired rocker has just hopped into her cargo pants, fastening them tugging them down onto her hips where they can hang comfortably. There's a white plastic bag resting on her bed as well, and she reaches into it, removing a velvet bag out of which she extracts a pair of silver-rimmed Lennon glasses with purple lenses. Very groovy, man. She slips them on and blinks at the chaos of her room, suddenly all in shades of violet. She smiles. Far out.

But this is a day for some solemn tasks. She heads to the closet, an area mostly blocked off by Quinn's things which still remain here in storage, and hauls it open. Inside, ensconced in a bed sheet, are the broken remains of an acoustic guitar. "Hey there, darlin'," she says, addressing the fragments with soft familiarity.

It might be bad timing, but a heart-beat after those words are spoken, there's a firm rap rap-rap rap - though from the front door of the apartment, rather than anywhere more mysterious, or musically or emotionally significant.

Sable looks up from the remains, squinting at the door. That's not a series of knocks she recognizes. A newcomer? Is she in trouble? Is someone asking her to keep it down again? The music, which of course is playing as it always plays, a track from Axis: Bold As Love at the moment, is at a totally reasonable volume. Suspicion pricks Sable's mind, but she takes a breath and lets it pass on through. Wearing these specs, she can't dishonor a great man's legacy by freaking out. She opens the door to see…

…someone whom she might recognise from the day of Quinn's wooden inquisition. Fairly tall, clad in a sturdy boots worn over a pair of tight black breeches, with a biker's jacket unzipped to reveal a firmly toned midriff and well-filled halter top.

Raising one hand in greeting, the woman offers a quick smile. "Hi. The Little Death, I presume?"

Lack of context, lack of expectation and preparation, mean Sable is able to appreciate the pure aesthetics of the creature who has come calling before she actually locks in on an assigned identity and thus loses the pure presence of the girl behind a name: "Ygraine…" Sable says, tipping her glasses down and giving the other woman a more pointed once-over, a gesture that is, sadly enough, meant to convey a sort of dominance. Not that anyone will take or respect it as such. "Not tonight, hon," she says, "Not unless yer makin' a special request. Jus' humble ol' Sable." She opens the door fully and steps aside. "Why don't y' come in, hon. Don't mind the mess, if y' can help it. If not, well, I apologize f'r it, as I can't fuckin' help it."

One brow raises in response to the once-over, to be joined by the other when Sable provides her greeting. The dominant intent, however, she either doesn't object to in the slightest, or appears to entirely miss. A low chuckle, and Ygraine steps inside, glancing around with some interest, moving into the room to allow Sable freedom to close the door behind her.

"Sorry to barge in without warning." The distant origin of the Briton's accent is clear, her educated tones somewhat amused. "But I thought that we should talk. Apparently we're colleagues in a mission."

Sable swings the door shut and takes a post a few feet from it, arms crossed over her chest. "Easy come, easy go, hon," she says, "I've been meanin' t' meet you properly anyhow. Heard quite a lot 'bout you, all fine things 'f course. 'course, I dunno how accurate all that I heard is," she grins, "An accent as elegant 'n' a form as fair as yers often give the impression 'f, like, wit 'n' goodness without necessarily needin' actual wit 'n' goodness t' back it up. So I've yet t' figure if y'r clever 'n' beautiful, 'r just beautiful, dig?" She shrugs, "But enough 'bout that. Sounds like yer here f'r business."

Ygraine once again looks surprised, laughing as she responds by offering an elegant, low bow - complete with extravagant hand-flourish. "Why, thank you. I think. But yes - business."

She glances away for a silent moment, then looks back to Sable. "A young friend of our acquaintance told me that she asked you to set about gathering records of people's black-out visions. She asked me to pursue much the same task. I might be doing her a disservice, but I'd be mildly surprised if she'd told you this - so I thought that we should have a chat, and discuss how to coordinate our efforts."

Sable's brow does arch. "Can't blame 'er f'r thinkin' my priorities mayn't be precisely t' her purposes," she comments, dryly, "Events havin' gone as they've gone. Why's it, though, that you'd be surprised 'bout her tellin' me? Which, like, remain unsurprised, 'cause she didn't." She nods, "'n' I'd dig that. Two's better th'n one when it comes t' busy work shit like this, I figure."

Ygraine offers a soft, low laugh, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets, shrugging slowly. "It's… well." A glance down, and a fond smile curls her lips, before she looks up again. "I've known Colette for a while now. Longer than most. And in that time she has never been the best at passing on her ideas to other people. She's improved immensely in that regard, but she's still got a distinct tendency to… grab an idea and run with it, and possibly get around to thinking about the consequences some time later."

Another shrug, and then Ygraine's hands emerge, to spread as her smile turns wry. "She did mention you, and wanted me to work to complement your efforts. But it seemed… polite, at the very least, to let you know that I was around. And it also occurred to me that you might not have had your own vision recorded yet."

The other brow joins its brother. Both are lofted. "Colette's a whole hell 'f a lot cannier than she lets on, least 'f all t' herself. I hope she's shapin' t' learn herself better, though. She'd come by greater happiness, 'n' I wish it 'pon her. As I try 'n' do 'pon everyone under th' blue sky." She nods, "'n' its only sensible we don't go pesterin' the same people twice, 't least," her head tilts, "Meant t' record that last 'f all, though only 's a reminder, like, since she already knows what it is I saw, seein' as I told her 'n' all."

"She's… stumbling through the process of growing up", Ygraine says gently. "Though she still worries a lot about not being up to it, I think - and also about others not thinking she is. She's terrified of showing weakness, at the moment. Feels that to do so would be to let people down. But…."

Yet another shrug. "She assures me that she's got someone she can break down with. Which is a change from how she used to 'handle' things, thankfully. As for… your vision…. Well, I believe that Colette's idea is to share all of these with people who might be able to collate the data and analyse any overall significance or trends there might be within the array of stories. And for that, Colette knowing isn't a hugely useful step in and of itself. Far better to have the first-hand accounts stored in a manner that lets them be passed on wherever they're needed - or transcribed, and then passed on for anyone who wants to remain anonymous."

"Hard t' find someone y' ain't afraid t' be afraid with," Sable says, agreeable, though she is making some effort to be agreeable. The music that flows from her cruddy little CD player helps in this regard. "'n' sure, fine," she says, the whole schpiel about the greater use of the aggregate visions received with a certain impassivity, if not simple indifference, "I'm doin' this as a personal favor, 'n' all. It's f'r her sake I'm takin' this on. The rest, well," she grins, "I guess I'll leave all that t' you. Leg work 'n' personal dedication's what I've got t' bring t' the table. All this… 'tactics and logistics' shit's not my scene. I'll leave that t' roadies 'n' stunnin' chicks from across the pond."

There's a momentary pause before Ygraine replies. "Ah. Well, the… meaning behind it does intrigue me. Not least because I'm torn between regret and relief over having missed out on it all. I was thousands of miles away when they hit, and have nothing whatsoever to report in the line of precognitive enlightenment…"

A quick glance around the oddly-decorated apartment, then Ygraine musters a smile. "Would it be… convenient to record something now? Or do you need to trust me a bit more before you reveal anything that personal? Everything I've heard about them sounds… startling, to say the least."

Sable rolls her shoulders and sidles over to her bed, taking a seat on the corner and crossing her legs, ankle to knee. "Normally I'd be awful cagey, hon, I won't lie," she says, though her voice doesn't exactly inspire a sense of total genuineness. Too much wicked laughter running under her words, unvoiced but lurking as potential, "But I'm surely not about t' refuse any request y' might make 'f me. Such is my weakness b'fore grace." She pulls the glasses off her nose and sets them aside, atop their velvet bag. "I'm ready when you are, hon."

"Grace?", Ygraine asks, clearly somewhat surprised, glancing around once more before moving over to a stack of boxes. From her pockets she produces a little hand-held digital video camera, and an old-fashioned dictaphone. A quick check, then the two are set atop the uppermost box, pointed towards Sable, and turned on.

"The third of June", she says towards the devices, nodding as a ripple on the display confirms that the camera, at least, is picking up sound. Lifting her gaze to Sable, she ventures a smile. "So… what did you see, or experience?"

"I could just say yer a knockout," Sable says, giving a shrug and a feckless smile, "But I figured a classy gal like you'd appreciate somethin' akin t', like, lyricism." But now there's no more time for banter, for once in ever. Sable looks the camera dead in the lens and states:

"I'm in some place. Doin' shit f'r the Ferry, packin' backpacks, all in a big rush 'cause somethin' big's goin' down. Dunno what, ain't thinkin' about it too hard at the time, just doin' what I'm doin. Listenin' t' Guess Who on m' headphones. 'Goin' Mobile'." Song specifics are important to Sable, if not to anyone else.

"Then this blonde gal, ol' Tamara, she comes up t' me 'n' says 'thank you'. 'n' I know her by then, though I didn't b'fore I had th' vision 'r nothin', so I say, all smartalecky 'what's the chance that, like, yer thankin' me f'r somethin' I've done, 'r' somethin, like, that I'm goin' t' do' 'r something like that. She smiles, says it's, like 'a now thing', then offers me th' leash 'f her cute little hound dog, says somethin' 'bout how I take care 'f her for a bit, mebbe a few days, until Colette 'r ol' Tasha comes. 'n' that's 'bout when it stops. I figure I take the leash, but it didn't go that far."

Ygraine has to stifle a laugh in response to Sable's initial comment, but thereafter listens intently - and looks genuinely surprised when the narrative finishes.

"Were you aware of anyone else around? What sort of things you were packing away?", the Briton asks cautiously.

Sable gives a shrug. "Fucked if I know," she says, "Wasn't payin' attention. Mebbe some people were in and out. Felt like there were other folks there. I could sort of hear 'em, I guess. 'r feel them. 'r just knew they were there, like y' do when yer not alone in a place. Quite an operation there was goin', 'n' I doubt it was just me alone. But I can't say f'r sure, 'cause I either had m' headphones on, 'r I was talkin' t' Tamara, 'n' either way I wasn't payin' other folks any mind."

Which is a very long winded way of saying: 'I wasn't aware of anyone else around.' And that wasn't the only question. "Water bottles, flashlights, 'n', like, I think maps mebbe. Stuff f'r, like, y'know," she smiles, tugs at the lobe of one of her ears, "hoin' mobile."

Ygraine nods pensively. "So.. a significant operation, with others present engaged in tasks not immediately adjacent to your own - which would imply that they were doing tasks not identical to your own", she muses. "Did you have any impression whether it was day or night?"

Sable can't help but look maybe a little skeptical. Tactics and logistics talk, this. She follows what's said, it's just how it's said. So technical. No lyricism she can relate to. "Nope," she says, "Was well enough inside not t' be able t' spot a window 'r nothin, 't least not as I c'n remember."

Another thoughtful nod, Ygraine's gaze rather unfocused, directed somewhere past Sable's shoulder. "Mmmm. Anything you can recall about the packs and the things you were putting into them? Were they all identical, from some set of big job-lots? Or odds and ends that individuals might have put together from whatever came to hand?"

The recording will show that Sable's face is falling by small degrees at this point. It's all she can do not to say something bordering on ill-tempered. She's starting to feel (due to no actual fault of Ygraine's) like she's being questioned. Like by a police officer. A kind of person Sable is not a fan of. She glances over at the purple lensed glasses she set aside. She reaches out for them, clasping them talismanically. "All th' same," she says, "I think. Yeah, all the same. Uniform, like."

Ygraine nods again, a slight frown creasing her brow, before she clears her expression and refocuses upon Sable. "Thank you", is offered warmly, before she leans forward to turn off the two devices. "That… suggests quite a lot about the Ferry response to things, and the level of prior planning involved. That could be very useful." She sounds genuinely appreciative.

"Uh… cool," Sable says, unfolding her glasses and sliding them back on. She regards Ygraine through the violet filter again. She tries smiling again. Okay, that feels comfortable enough, she guesses. "So…" a pause, "You went t' college?"

Ygraine blinks, looking up from carefully tucking away the camera and dictaphone, before laughing and nodding. "I'm afraid so, yes. The university of Manchester for my first degree, then Canterbury for my second."

For whatever goddamn reason, Sable eases up a little after this answer. "Cool," she says, sounding more convinced of the word when she says it this time, "That's a whole fuckin' lot of schoolin'. Whatall can you do with that? 'cept get a half decent job," she cracks a grin, "Somethin' I surely envy y' for, more now th'n in a while, havin' just gotten back int' the grind m'self." This is an exaggeration. She did just land a job, but she hasn't worked a single 'grinding' moment yet.

Somewhat relieved by Sable's unexpectedly warm response, Ygraine chuckles and offers a rueful shrug. "A history degree qualifies you for precious little, though it was fun to do. The Masters in international relations, I did do in part to try to qualify me for somewhat more… intellectually stimulating work. But for the most part, I've worked as a professional cyclist. When I've not, I've worked as a translator - but that's largely because I grew up bilingual. My parents raised me to speak French as well as English, so… even that's not got a great deal to do with formal study."

"'n' now I've got yer whole fuckin' resume," Sable says, crossing her arms before her and regarding Ygraine slantedly. There's something just marginally contentious in her tone, in her bearing, but it's not unfriendly. "Ain't often I meet someone talks as much 's me. Where you been all my life, hon? Think 'f all the awkward silences we coulda filled f'r each other! Wasted years, hon. Wasted years."

Ygraine lifts one shoulder in a gentle shrug. "Oh, not exactly the full course of my career", she says with a wry smile. "And I tend to fluctuate between babbling, lecturing, or not having the faintest idea of what on Earth I could possibly say."

Sable laughs at this. "See, I'm right there with y' up 'ntil th' end. Fool as I am, even when I don't have, like, 'the faintest', I still don't shut th' fuck up. Y' ask my comrades, they'll fuckin' tell y'." She leans forward, legs uncrossing, elbows coming to rest on her knees, head upon interlaced hands. "Y' got yerself a wife, eh? F'rgive a ignorant southern gal f'r findin' the a curiosity."

Ygraine blinks in surprise, then offers a low laugh. "Well, technically not a wife. Legally, it's a 'civil partnership', since marriage already has a legal definition in the UK, and that involves one man and one woman…. But it brings with it all the rights, and it's a lot easier to summarise to most people as 'marriage'. And I… had fun going through the whole thing. Even asked her father for permission. Admittedly after I'd already asked her, and when I was pretty sure what answer he'd give…"

"Y'all broken up now?" is Sable's next question, quick as anything.

Another blink, then a laugh. "No, no. She's over in the UK, studying. And… being safe from the madness over here. I've mostly been spending time there, since we married, but… there are a few things that I think I can help with over here. Hence returning to this side of the Pond to become an active member of the Ferry."

Sable squints at Ygraine, "Then what th' fuck's up with you 'n' Quinn, eh? Y' ain't playin' my comrade are you? 'cause, 'n' I'm tellin' you straight off here since y've been civil 'n' all, but if y' are, then this shit will come to blows, 'n' no fuckin' mistake." There's no outward aggression in her voice. Her statement - warning, really - is matter-of-fact.

Ygraine raises both brows, then chuckles softly, though her gaze has turned distinctly assessing. "No, I'm not playing her", she says mildly. "Are you, with your encouragement of Elaine to seize the moment and try her luck with Quinn?"

Sable blinks. "You, gal," she says, "Are laborin' under inaccurate-like information. I never told Elaine nothin' save that her man said Quinn 'n' me were fair game t' her in his book. Someone's got their wire's crossed, hon. Where'd you hear that? I don't much care f'r such tangles." She lifts a finger, "Though I ask, what the fuck kind 'f game would I be playin' such that that would be my tactic? Y' know what I mean by play, eh?"

Head canting slowly to one side, Ygraine's lips and eyes narrow. "If this is how you treat people you say that those you love have commended to you, then I dread to think how you treat anyone they warn you against."

Gently shaking her head, the Briton's mouth twitches into the ghost of a smile. "So… you never encouraged Quinn to go for it with Elaine, nor suggested that Elaine try her luck with Quinn? It was you who told Elaine about Magnes's… announcement, wasn't it? Since he didn't make it to her, did he?"

Sable's finger is joined by its cousins to form an abortive hand. "Hon, hold on there, how's it that I'm treatin' you ill? Be honest, here, I ain't sayin' I'm not. I'm makin' a real effort t' be kinder t' folks and less vicious and all, so you tell me how I've done you wrong, 'n' I'll do my best t' make amends, dig? I'm fuckin' serious. We get this out of the way, 'n' then I'll set things straight as t' what I said t' whom 'n' whatever else. If y' don't mind."

Ygraine levelly eyes Sable for a few moments, then rolls her shoulders - either easing tension, or half-subtly showing off the shifting muscles beneath the pale skin. "I am assuming that the barrage of swearing is… habitual", she says quietly. "So I'm trying to adapt to it. The threat of physical violence if you disapproved of my actions, I took as a threat. And to me, threats are anything but… kind. But perhaps that's also just… habitual, and no hostility was intended."

Sable tilts her head, taking in Ygraine, taking the time to decode her diction in terms that she can better process. The end result has Sable rise to her feet, then fall to her knee before Ygraine, head low. "I beg f'rgiveness," she says, eyes lowered at first, but then zipping up to peer at the other girl over her glasses, "Oaths 'n' all that are precisely f-," she catches herself, giving a rueful chuckle, "Precisely that. Habitual. Product 'f my, like, upbringin'. I don't speak no different with those I hold nearest 'n' dearest. None'll say otherwise. As f'r threats, hon, I guess…"

"I guess it's the damn fool logic of me thinkin' the innocent need fear no threat 'gainst the guilty. But that's bullshit - er, pardon - but it is. I've been accused 'n' suspected falsely enough in my life t' know it stings just as bad. Worse, even." She shifts out of the kneel into a cross-legged sit, right in front of the other girl, "I'm awful protective 'f my comrades, y'see. 'n' Quinn's too new t' matters 'f the heart t' know up from down properly - just how it goes in love, as it goes f'r everyone, the brightest and the dimmest. So I worry f'r the state 'f her heart. 'n' so y' must understand my, like, concern. What with you bein' married or, like, queer-married 'n' all, y' can mebbe see why I might fear y'r rough-handlin' a delicate thing I love dearly, dig?"

"And you might understand my own concern", Ygraine says dryly, peering down at the seated girl. "Quinn is rather dear to me, as well, and… someone who appears to push some women at her while threatening others…? That's not so much protective as controlling, at least to first glance."

Sable frowns, "Arright. I'm inclined t' take offense, but seein' as that we're both given doubt's, like, benefit, lemme try 'n' straighten you out on these here matters," she leans back, shoulders rolling as her arms extend to support her, "I let ol' Quinn know Magnes was down with his gal 'n' her sharin' a certain intimacy 'n' all. Only Quinn's awful shy sometimes, so I let 'er know that 's long as yer honest and straightfoward, like… clear 'bout yer intentions, yer wishes, yer thoughts 'n' feelin's, 'n' never make it a matter of force 'r pressure, that it's no shame t' tell a gal out 'n' out what it is you'd like, if she's willin'. Elaine I told no thing save that Magnes also gave her th' clear when it came t' Quinn 'n' I. If the matters comes up again, I'd greatly appreciate y' settin' the record straight. As it is, nothin' like what yer thinkin' happened, as I encouraged Elaine t'wards Quinn in no way, 'n' while I tried t' teach Quinn best as I could how t' approach a fair lady with honesty 'n' respect, it wasn't her that made th' first move after all, but 'nstead Elaine, actin', as I said, under no encouragement from m'self. So if any 'f that seems, like, controllin' t' you, please lemme know how, so that I can better, like, comport m'self."

"So… there was no… self-interest in passing on to Elaine what Magnes had said?", Ygraine asks curiously, still studying Sable quite intently. "If what you're saying about a complete lack of any encouragement is true, then there are definitely at least a couple of crossed wires out there."

Sable's smile is slanted, "Self interest means just what, hon? I was certainly fuckin' interested in seein' if Elaine'd make use 'f her, like, freedom. 'n' she was, 'n' I am far from regrettin' it. The gal's lovely, smart as hell 'n' a quick learner. I'm honored t' be passin' on what I know, 'n' hope it's t' both her 'n' comrade Magnes', like, advantage," she tilts her head, "'n' I'm sorry such wires were crossed. Y' must have some dark, like, impression 'f me. 'n' while I'm guilty 'f a multitude 'f sins in the eyes of man 'n' God alike, I think y' may have the wrong measure 'f me. I'm grateful, though, that y' seem t' be willin' to adjust."

"Quinn and Elaine are both intelligent, kind, and people I am eager to help", Ygraine says softly. "That they evidently care greatly for you counts for a good deal. It's quite a vote of confidence. Likewise, you were mentioned as having been likely to have shouted at Magnes for his stunt at Tartarus. That suggested good things, too. So I wasn't exactly turning up here expecting you to be some… monster, certainly."

"That last ain't precisely the highest 'f fuckin' commendations," Sable states, wryly, "'n' th' way y' say everythin' y' say makes it sound like these 'r' all weights set 'gainst some unspoken quantity that'd weigh your scale some other way. Sorry 'f that's, like, a misperception, but th' way y' put it just makes it sound so," she leans forward again, giving herself a little push and hunching a bit, chin lifting so she can peer at Ygraine, "I'd like t' get along. I dunno why we wouldn't, save mebbe some issue 'f, like, chemistry. Obviously you 'n' me are from far distant walks, me bein' a runaway, 'n' you bein', pardon my sayin' somethin' 'f a goddamn bourgie."

Both brows go up at that last word. "Petite or grande?", Ygraine asks dryly. "I confess that I hadn't expected to run into the Marxist dialectic here. Congratulations - you have surprised me. But yes… I am trying to work out what to make of you. As seems to be very much the case in return."

Sable's no historical materialist. She just dated this chick in Boston once. And she doesn't speak French. She got her Goth name from another chick she dated in D.C. This is the nature of her education. If there's a certain blankness to Sable's reception of Ygraine's apropos question, that's why. "Bein' entirely honest hon, I think yer sort 'f a bitch," she says, "But that's actually sorta cool. I like bitches. I'm one m'self. I'm just tryin' t' figure if yer a bitch that ain't compatible with my particularly bitchiness. Yer a good lookin' bitch, that's f'r sure, but that can actually make things worse, if y' know what I mean. So far, mostly my problem's that I feel like I'm bein' talked down to. But I'm growin' more 'n' more confident that that's just me hearin' it in what yer sayin', 'n' not what yer sayin'."

Ygraine silently studies Sable for a few moments, before venturing another reply. "I competed internationally, on a professional basis", she explains matter-of-factly. "If I backed down merely because someone said 'boo', I'd never have got half as far as I did."

A slight shrug. "Present a direct challenge - such as by threatening physical violence - and you trigger something quite different to scared compliance. I've got a competitive streak a mile wide, and there are damn few people I see as being suited to giving me orders of any kind. If that makes me a bitch, then I suppose I'm guilty as charged."

Sable wrinkles her nose, "See, it's shit like that. 'Internationally' 'n' 'professional basis'. It's like yer polishin' yer fucking medals in front of me. We may have t' figure a different mode 'f speakin' you 'n' I, me with less 'f the curses 'n' you with less 'f the pats on the-" prime example, "dang back. 'cause I wanna like y', but I get this vibe off y' that I really don't care f'r. But it's gotta just be a clash 'f our mutual vibrations, 'cause if Quinn 'n' Elaine have taken t' y', there must be somethin' worth me gettin' at in you."

She squints, "Look, hon, yer either a bitch 'n' know it or a bitch 'n' don't. If y' know, own up and be proud 'f it. That sh-stuff makes you strong, makes y' capable of all y've achieved. Same as with me. If y' don't, I'm here t' let y' know. What makes us strong, it's also what makes us cruel."

Ygraine momentarily closes her eyes, reopening them and focusing upon Sable once more when she speaks. "My point was simply that I couldn't be what I was without responding to challenges differently to most people. And 'if I don't like what you do, I'll hurt you' definitely sounded like a challenge, however you meant it. To me, it seemed that you wanted to put some fear into me with that - to take me aback and have me do what you want. My brain's not wired that way. Now if that is a bitch in your definition, then so be it."

Another of those slow, rolling shrugs. "I'm arrogant and have a competitive streak a mile wide for the things I care about." Pursing her lips, she cants her head slightly to one side. "And those are just my better flaws…."

Sable is able to smile now, without guard or restraint. "Yer a bitch is all," she says, pleasantly enough, "Sense I'm gettin' is that we're more akin than apart, but that the parts that set us apart 'r' more along, like, lines 'f communication. I think crossed wires foretold our particular, like, interaction. 'cause I'm real f-riggin' full of m'self, bein' possessed of incredible musical genius 'n' all. 'n' I don't brook opposition easy m'self. Thinkin' too, to what I'd've done had y' spoken t' me as I spoke t' you on the matter 'f Quinn 'n' y'r intentions, only speakin' as you speak, I'd've been real fuckin' prickly. So yeah… I figure you 'n' me c'n see eye t' eye if we can get our, like, terms clear, eh?"

She flashes a grin. "Don't hurt, too, that y'r mighty easy on said eyes."
Ygraine's brows quirk upwards once again, and she pauses slightly before answering. "Clarified terms might indeed be helpful", she agrees, tone dry, though a hint of a smile lifts the corners of her mouth. "And thank you. I don't think I've ever been complimented in such an… odd conversation. Come to think of it, I'm not sure I've ever had such an odd conversation…."

"Well, hon," Sable says, tipping her glasses up off her nose and resting them on her brow, where they perch precariously, "I've got somethin' of a reputation t' maintain." She tips her glasses back down over her eyes, leaning back once more. "So, bein' wholly civil 'n' respectful 'n' all… may I ask what y've got in mind f'r my comrade and dear friend Quinn? I'm willin' t' respect that it's yer 'n' her business, but knowin' y've got right in mind f'r her would ease my heart. I care a whole lot 'bout her, 'n' her happiness 'n' unhappiness are, like, kinda hard f'r me t' think 'f as less th'n pretty seriously personal concerns, dig?"
A low chuckle, and a definite smile from the Briton. "I honestly don't know what'll happen with her", she says gently, "but I'm very keen indeed to see her happy as well. And I'm also anxious to protect her."

"That ain't precisely an answer, hon," Sable says, "And don't address the issue 'f you bein' sworn t' some other gal, her hopes bein', if I ain't totally goddamn blind, somethin' akin t' romance."

"She knows the situation", Ygraine says, voice still gentle. "Whichever one you're worried about - she knows the situation. And we're taking things carefully, your neighbour and I. Trust's far too precious a thing to gamble with."

Sable scowls a bit, "This is us needin' t' be a little clearer again, I think," she says, "Carefully means what, hon? That y'r keepin' an affair nice 'n' discreet? 'n' who's my neighbor? Got any number of those. Y' speak of Quinn, hon, use 'er name 'r call 'er what she is, my friend 'n' comrade."

Sable is eyed for another moment, before Ygraine musters her latest faint smile. "I've done a great deal less with Quinn, in terms of physical intimacy, than have either you or Elaine. Probably the most scandalous thing I've done with her was take her corset-shopping, for Heaven's sake."

The taller woman shakes her head. "I've been up-front with her. She knows the situation. And if she ever does decide to try a closer relationship, as far as I'm concerned it'll be no one's business but hers and anyone else directly affected by it. If you want to claim some sort of rights over her heart, or a right to say who she might consider in which light - then you'd best sort it out with her. Because as far as I'm aware, her heart and her feelings are her own."

Sable lifts a hand to the bridge of her nose, pinching it as she closes her eyes. "Naw, naw," she says, "Yer not hearin' what I mean t' say," her eyes open as her hand drops, "But likely I'm just as much t' blame f'r not bein' clear. But Jesus, don't make me do all the work here, eh? Whatall happens between sheets ain't my concern. What does concern me is how you keep talkin' in vaguenesses. 'The situation' 'n' all that. What's the situation, is I guess what I'm askin'. Is 'the situation' her carryin' on an affair with a married woman? 'cause that's all it sounds like, nothin' more or less, 'n' I don't take issue with that necessarily. I just wanna understand," she snorts, "'n' stop presumin' I'm talkin' 'bout rights over her, Jesus, it's like y' think I'm tryin' t'… I dunno… keep her cooped up. I want th' gal t' have someone. She deserves it, 'n' it'd make her happy. I'm just unclear on how that works with you bein' hitched.""

Another few moments of silence, as Ygraine considers either Sable or how to phrase her own response. "I suppose that the situation is really… that I think I'll talk to Quinn before I tell anyone else any details about this that they don't already know. I've said she knows what's going on in my life, and I've said that if she ever wants to try a closer relationship then it's up to her. She's got the facts, and she's got the freedom. If she wants anyone else to have more details, I'll probably back her. But right now, I've got no sign at all that she does want you to know more about her life than you already do."

Sable wrinkles her nose, "See," she says, "I dunno why y' gotta get this way with me. Y' could just as well say 'I don't think I should say', 'nstead of sharpenin' yer knives on me. Mebbe yer takin' what I'm sayin' fer, like, hostility again, in which case, lemme apologize again. But mebbe, hon, you should start figurin' to apologize t' me a little, f'r the tone yer takin' and the words y'r usin' feel terrible harsh and unkind, 'specially when directed at one who's only interest is in makin' sure one 'f my best friends in the whole goddamn world isn't bound for trouble. Somethin' I hope y' can understand, seein' as affairs with married women don't often go so well."

"And maybe you can understand why I'm not wholly inclined to accept that on trust, from someone who sleeps with someone else's girlfriend herself", Ygraine says, not quite managing to entirely bite back a touch of venom in her voice, though she quickly stills it. "We're suspicious of each other's motives, and we both say we want to protect the same person. Let's just leave it at that, shall we? I suspect we'll both be talking to Quinn in the near future."

Sable looks at Ygraine like she's crazy. She touches a hand to her chest, indicating herself, face all incredulity. "Dear Lord… I explained that shit, ferchrissake. Magnes gave it the all clear. He 'n' I are best friends. I've spoken with him 'bout it. I'll tell you out 'n' out it's cool. You tell me, hon, that what yer doin' is fine with yer wife, 'n' I'm fuckin' happy! But the way y' keep dodgin' around puts me in doubt. I ain't suspicious on fuckin' jot, hon, just uninformed. 'n' I dunno why y'r suspicious of me. So please, lay it the fuck on me so I can mebbe have a chance t' put yer suspicions t' rest, instead 'f us gettin' all worked up!"

"I'm suspicious of you because you seem to be getting a good deal out of this, to be wanting to direct Quinn's life for her, and because you seemed to try to scare me off, first up." Ygraine pauses for a second. "And, most of all, because you say one thing about encouragement, and I was flat-out told another by people I already trust. Which means that there really are some seriously crossed wires somewhere, or I can't trust you, or I've been lied to by someone I put my faith in. And none of those three choices make me too happy about the notion of handing out free insights into my life, Quinn's, or anyone else's until I know what the heck is going on. That's why I said I'd talk to Quinn, and that's why I'm not giving out straight answers."

Sable's mouth opens, and she gives a long, "Ooooooh…" and then just nods, "See, that I c'n dig. Trust, like y' said, ain't somethin' t' be gambled. See, hon, I ain't in the manner of bein' guarded 'bout myself 'n' my matters. I see such behavior as, like, bad news. But I figure y' see it as a matter 'f honor 'n' trust in those that've earned it. So yeah, I c'n dig that. 'n' please," she lifts a hand, "I ain't tryin' t' direct no one's life no-how. I ain't tryin' to scare you 'r nothin'. I was bein', as I am, real open 'bout myself 'n' my matters. If y' play any friend of mine, my honor demands we come t' blows. That wasn't meant as nothin' specific t' you 'r yer situation. That's a general fuckin' rule." She gets to her feet, spreading her hands before her, palms up, "We gotta struggle t' understand each other here, hon. 'cause all I'm interested in is increasin' the sum total 'f love in the world. 'n' I'd greatly like t' hold nothin' but love f'r you in m' heart. Help me do that, hon, 'n' I'll try 'n' do my best t' give y' only reason t' love me in return. Dig?"

Ygraine's gaze flickers to and fro across Sable's features, pausing a couple of times on those strange yellow irises. "Hmmm", she offers eventually, taking a breath before providing something a little more informative by way of a reply. "So… no more… requests for details? If Quinn decides you need to know more, or not, you're fine with that?"

Sable nods, "Now I see it's a matter of trust, hon, 'course. I'll trust you if that's what it takes t' step t'wards earnin' yer trust in turn. So take my hands, hon, 'n' let's mebbe start fresh?"

Another pause, Ygraine still searching Sable's face rather intently… then she reaches out to touch fingers and palms, silently accepting a truce.

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