emily_icon.gif eve6_icon.gif



Scene Title Oreos
Synopsis It's always a circus at Cat's Cradle.
Date September 10, 2019

Cat's Cradle

Unlike the last times Emily visited Cat's Cradle, she neither comes in confidently, nor because she's been dragged. Instead, she slips over to the location between classes with a hesitancy to her approach. She paces by the bus stop, then pauses when Cat's is in sight, and with a certain reluctance finally pulls on the door to head in.

A day of blinding sunlight means she comes in wearing blue-tinted aviator sunglasses, peering this way and that while she peeks her head in. At this time of day, she has no idea what to expect the inside of the bar to look like.

The bar regular Larry's snores greet Emily as she peeks into the place. The smell is of the usual mix of booze, cannabis and food. There's a heaping pile of bacon plated and placed in front of the snoring man, he doesn't seem to have taken a bite. Eve is nowhere in sight but there are sounds that draw Emily inside of the bar, no Sassy to man the bar. It's a slow day here at Cat's. There's been word that the woman in charge of the establishment has been in a range of negative moods and after a few explosive moments…

There hasn't been as much business to Cat's for fear of getting viciously sunburnt or worst.

Which is why, Cat's has been providing more in the way of grub. There is a cook in the corner of the makeshift kitchen but she doesn't turn around, not right away anyhow. The slender blonde with hair cut close to her scalp is more preoccupied with the hash browns on the grill.

They're burning.

"Aw fuck this!" Throwing the metal spatula in the corner near her after shoving the burnt potatoes into the trash. Poppy glares and rubs the bridge of her nose as she turns around and spots the newcomer and waves her hand. "Sorry about that, I've told Eve.. I'm better as a server/bartender. She needs to hire a real fucking cook." Her shoes clunk on the wooden floor as she makes her way behind the bar with a dazzling smile, tips are appreciated. "What can I get you?"

The woman being unfamiliar and alone at least means Emily gets the chance at a first impression unstained by previous bad interactions. No stories of paparazzi or tuba-huntressing, possibly, to get them off on the wrong foot… theoretically. "Well," she says as encouragingly as she can. "It seems like you've got bacon down at least."

She looks back in the direction of the range, then back to Poppy with a brief, thin smile. "I'll try to be an easy customer. I thought I'd stop by, see if Eve was around." Hands in the pocket of the creme-colored peacoat she wears, she pops her eyebrows inquisitively. "Is she?"

A light laugh escapes the other young woman and she nods her head towards the longer haired blonde, "Well I'll have some bacon waiting for you when you come back up." Which seems to answer the question of where in fact Eve Mas is.


"She's been down there since last night. Spends a lot of her time there actually, Sassy says she used to do this when she was having… her episodes or visions." Rumor around town was that Eve Mas had lost her foresight, she had been seen dashing around the neighborhood as a flux of blood red energy. "Be careful, she's been… in a mood." To say the least.

Ever since coming back from Japan, the start of Gillian and Chicken's journey west and the revelation about her family, things haven't been the same for Eve.

As Emily finds her way towards the back room and the infamous Oracle Room she hears something that almost nobody hears upon coming to Eve's private chambers. The complete absence of music or any noise at all.

The staircase lit lowly with the flickering of lights overhead as Emily stands at the threshold, to her right the white door that always remains locked. To her left the door to the Oracle Room stands just about close, a sliver left. Coming closer to the door with the upside down clock embedded in the door the young woman sees a flash of red light. Eve is in fact here, now that Emily is below ground she can hear the familiar fizzle and pops that are associated with the former seer's presence.

Emily hovers outside that door, eyes slightly narrowed at the sliver and the noises that come from the other side. It seems best not risk letting herself in. “Eve?” she calls out, hands still in her pockets. She lets her head tilt slightly to the floor to listen for a reply. “You busy at the moment?” She even looks behind her for a moment at the other door, wondering at it, taking a step back toward it.

You know, in case the door she was standing in front of suddenly goes swinging or something.

There's a pause in the shuffling of papers, a moment to consider the voice. Eve knows it. The woman within the Oracle Room has her back to the door, the dress she wears revealing pale skin of that spot of her body, it's a dark purple one. One of her favorites. She's barefoot and her head turns a notch, "Come in, Paparazzi."

Inside, the room is lit by candles and though there are many the light is still subdued, flames flickering at times some wicks almost burned all the way down. On the large round table in the center of the room are a light stack of papers. On the top, a birth certificate for one Eve Mas.

Valerie and Eric Mas' names are there, clear evidence of her origins. Except it was all a lie. "To what do I owe this exciting visit." Her tone is dead, lifeless compared to how Eve usually sounds. She's tired but in a different way.

Deftly a hand goes to close the folder that holds the light stack of papers. Nothing to see here.

Emily gingerly pushes the door open, taking a look around the room — the candles. ‘Letting them get that low is a fire hazard’ is definitely a thought that passes her mind, but she’s not here to criticize. So instead, she crouches to one by the door that’s running very low and just waves her hand by it to shush the tiny flame out of existence with that small gust of wind. “Aren’t you freezing in that?” she wonders, glancing up at Eve as she shuffles about the space. She catches sight of the first paper in the pile before the life is shut. “It’ll be winter soon, you know. Or is that just a side effect of … the new stuff?”

Her whole noncorporealness and all that.

Emily worries her bottom lip for a moment as she approaches the table but still keeps her distance. Taking in a breath to steel herself, she looks off at some of the other candles, taking stock of their height. “I stopped by Gillian’s,” she shares mildly. “And … they’re still not back.” Eve probably knows that, what with the shared residence and all, but …

She looks back to the red-eyed woman, the candlelight reflecting off the lenses of her sunglasses. “Have you heard from her lately?”

"No, I'm not freezing. Warmth, chill, the elements." Eve doesn't continue but waves her hand in the air as if to say, it is what it is. That definitely doesn't totally answer Emily's question. Something Emily says does make Eve twitch in any event and she gives the young woman a slow, sidelong look. "Yes, winter indeed approaches."

You have until the Winter.


"Lots to do, once first snow lands- Are you Puff Daddy? Remove those shades lady!" The last bit is the first honest to Eve reaction she's displayed this visit so far.

There's talk of her home and Gilly… The pale woman looks darkly into the unlit fireplace. "No, they aren't. Not one of them." Eve says gruffly and comes to squat in front of that fireplace. Waving her hand over the wood, her whole hand flickers and bursts into that bright nimbus of blood red energy. The wood ignites before long and the crackling of it joins Eve's own forms sounds. Maybe she's worried Emily is cold.

With a sigh that reverberates backwards, Eve becomes the pale familiar form again. Crimson eyes boring into the orange flames, the orange glow mixing in with the red that tints her already. "I haven't heard a little Birdy. I've done the same thing to Gilly before." And to Chicken, going off and not being in contact after. "It won't be long now though…"

Emily blinks behind those shades when Eve calls her out, finally relenting and sliding them off her nose. She looks at the former seer skeptically while she crouches, nonplussed. At least— until her hand becomes a not hand and sets fire to the wood with her very presence. The blue in Emily's eyes flashes as they reflect the color of Eve's existence, the light she gives off bathing the young woman's skin briefly in that ethereal glow.

She folds the sunglasses shut, turning them over in her palm as she considers the lack of contact to even Eve, unable to keep from frowning now. "I knew it would take time to find her once they hit the road … but they should have been there and back by now, Eve. And I'm worried." Looking down, her brow knits with concern. "Robyn said Gillian called from the California Safe Zone, but that was ages ago now. And that… I mean I be tried to be patient and not worry, but I just can't shake the feeling something's gone wrong— that they might not be coming home at all."

"I've called, and called, and called— and nothing, Eve." Emily finally puts away her sunglasses, looking back up with a hardening expression. "I managed to make contact with Squeaks through someone's ability back in August, just for a few minutes. She was resistant to coming home despite being kidnapped, and she was in the California Safe Zone. She said she'd been told Adam Monroe was her father.

"Eve, I'm scared to death Gillian and Lene crossed his path out there and aren't coming home. But I also know they're stronger than I know." She gestures loosely to Eve. "So you tell me. Am I being silly?" Emily's brow furrows. "Or is it time to start raising all the red flags?"

"Adventures, journeys… they don't have time limits. The people at home just feel that they do." Chewing on her bottom lip while continuing to stare deeply into the soon to be roaring flames before her.

"I know, west is the goal. If Young Jac is there then so are they," and what Emily said next only further proved Eve's theories though her eyebrows rose at the news of Squeaks lineage. "Wandering around the world, fathering multiple daughters. What a cliche." Reaching out with a crackle and snap to nab at a half smoked joint in the ashtray, holding it to the fire and watching the paper begin to burn and smoke. "And she wants to know her father," Something Eve relates to more than she ever thought she could.

"I don't blame the Young One, this world is confusing but blood is honest, you can't lie about blood. Tangible as they say I must bring, tangible evidence to support your claims Ms. Mas!" Smacking her hand against the wall with a loud clap, her fingers flex as she digs in and the red mist and lightning swirls around her fingertips. "Blood is the most tangible connection you can have with another."

Slowly the pale woman arches her back and twists to stare into Emily's big blue eyes, joint smoke wafting from her lips. "My family is on the west coast being held captive by an immortal madman." Letting that sink in for the young woman before turning her back again. "They aren't alone either, another family member of mine. My friend from the war days is with them." There's an uncomfortable knot in her stomach from that day in Japan even though she was the loudest advocate of free choice over obligation to chosen family.

"Are you silly to worry? Non, you have a heart beneath that icy veneer, hmmm? That's good." There is an extreme nagging feeling at the back of Eve's neck about it all, something she hasn't dared even think of. Instead, Emily is a good distraction, "The flags are flown but a truce was sown, until first snow. We may not know what befalls the west end." Well Eve and her friends did but… not everybody.

"Gilly keeps me together, from shattering to a million pieces." Quite literally now. "I can't… we aren't meant to be apart for too long." That anxious feeling welling up inside Eve, "But words are words. Cement at time, binding contracts."

Somewhere in the middle of Eve’s response, Emily stopped following. She must have, because why else would Eve be talking about Adam like he weren’t a problem? Before she disappeared for months, she called the man a plague. “Eve, what the fuck?” Emily asks point-blank, none of that nuance getting across. “Are you shitting me here? A truce?”

“This is Adam fucking Monroe we’re talking about. Squeaks shouldn’t be anywhere fucking near him, even if he is her fucking father. What kind of dad leaves his daughter in the care of awful fucking people who abuse her and cause her to be better off homeless than with them? Who lets his kid be genetic fucking experimented on??” She leans in as she makes that demand, brow arching. Enunciating very clearly, she clarifies, “My dad’s a piece of fucking work and he looks like father of the year compared to anyone who lets that happen, so the fact that he’s Adam goddamned Monroe aside, he’s still— fucking…”

She pivots from her current spot, her hands coming up to clutch the side of her head as she paces back and forth. The candles nearest her feet flicker from the sudden activity. “Like the fact Gillian and Lene could be in serious fucking trouble aside, why in the hell would you think it’s a good idea that Squeaks be anywhere near him?”

Eve can tolerate many things. People insult her, have manhandled her. Questioned her more than they've answered but the thing that really grinds Eve's gears, is questioning how devoted she is to keeping her family safe.

"What do you know of fighting wars, of brokering peace so that the people you love can stay alive! Nothing." Whirling around to face Emily as her body responds to her emotional state, more violent blood red light illuminates the veins in Eve's arms. "I've laid my life down, numerous times in the pursuit of our unified salvation! And lost it! What have you given up?" Once Eve starts…

"HE'S AFRAID OF ME! HE WILL KILL MY FAMILY, INCLUDING HIS OWN DAUGHTERS IF ANYONE MAKES A MOVE." The ground beneath Eve's feet begins to smolder and curl. "I'M TRYING TO SAVE YOU, THE REST OF THE GODDAMN DIMENSION BUT ALL YOU FUCKING BANANA HEADS DO IS QUESTION ME!" That's a roar emitting from Eve's throat and she stands there silent for a brief moment, vibrating with anger and energy. "What are you doing Eve?! WHAT the FUCK Eve!?" Spittle flies from her lips.

She sounds just like him, just like Adam and it twists her up inside even more. Adding to the distress of not having Gillian, Chicken, Boomer or Squeaks around. Before she can continue screaming the paler woman tries to calm herself, losing her head would result in the Oracle Room going up into flames.

"I- That dragon, the Mother and Father with the golden eyes is on the move, the spirit dancing through the boundary lines of this universe and the next. Goddess help me. Adam believes he has the solution and that we," motioning between Emily and herself and then waving all around the room to indicate the world, "Are going to fuck it up. So Paparazzi, I told him he had until Winter's first snow or I was coming to fuck shit up."

Slapping her hands against the walls beside her, ripping her fingers down them. "If you don't think I want to fly my pale ass over there this instant, you got another thing coming. There's more on the line and my sister and her children along with Chess are more than capable of keeping themselves alive!" For now at least. Eve hopes. No, no she knows.

Deep in the fiber of her whole being.

When Eve challenges what Emily knows about sacrifice, she stands her ground, jaw set. What the former seer does, glowing, looking as though she might simply stop being and turn into that red, angry mist right in front of her— it's intimidating.

The acrid smoke shows it's a real possibility.

She listens, her glower becoming passive, her anger shoved down. It's not without some grit teeth, but she tries to at least hear Eve out. But she shares in that frustration Eve has, even if it's for different reasons. Emily can't stay still, stay silent about these worries she has, otherwise she wouldn't be here.

"So what do we do, then?" she snaps, trying and failing from keeping it sounding like a demand. Immediately she feels the need to clarify her scope. This whole world-shaking Dragon thing that threatens dimensions is way past her current capacity to care— Her focus is much smaller, more personal: "What do we— how do we get them home but not put them in danger?"

Is it even possible?

As Emily tries her best to rein in her emotions, Eve does her level best to read the girl despite her own growing emotional instability. There is common ground they share, worry and love for the ones that were away. Eve even more so maybe because one of her anchors was off in the wind.

"We watch, we listen, we learn." A mantra that Eve has been repeating to herself. Something to keep her steady, "We cannot rush in anyway, scouting. Sneaking," Something most people don't associate with Eve but while she was a bombastic trickster, a trickster still could be sneaky, could be swift. "Once the first snow falls, once the circle lines itself up. Bam." Clapping her hands together with a loud smack that coincides with a pop of lightning from her elbow.

"They are my life, Emily." Settling herself back to sitting, the light within her dimming. "I will not sacrifice them. I've…" Taking a deep breath before slowly letting it back out with lips pushed out, "I've given enough. So have they. Chicken never got to meet her father… she still has the chan-" Shaking her head, "It's not right." Eve says with bitterness. "It's not fair and so it won't be."

Eve has decided.

"Would you like to be of assistance?" For all the seriousness of it, the former seer begins to smile her wicked smile, "How are you useful, what… do you bring to this table?" Eve has-, "I have enough strong opinions and stubbornness to last a lifetime or four. No no, there must be something else you offer." The look from her crimson glowing eyes and the fraction of leaning in her form does says it all: speak.

Emily's brow pops high at that, taken aback by the turn in the conversation. Eve is asking her what?

She blinks and shifts her weight, her frustration inverting now. "I—" she starts and then stops. What can she do to help? There's a flicker of open uncertainty, quickly bulldozed over by determination. "I can watch, I can listen," she starts, because that's important. "I'm a student, I work for SESA." She can learn. "I can shoot, I know self-defense, I…"

The light in her eyes dim as she hitches on saying more than that, any mention of her ability caught and smothered before it can be loosed into the air. Her gaze sharpens and refocuses on Eve, trying to decide between lowering that guard or not.

"Why?" she asks abruptly. "What are you thinking of doing?" Despite her caution for own secrets, she sounds all too eager to jump into a plan to bring her friend back home. The answer might be yes even before details are shared.

"So you're adept at learning, a student. SESA, I'm going to need a word with your bosses but I'm gonna ask Red about that, perhaps you'll be there!" As to the notion that Emily can shoot, well Eve considers herself a rather good shot and so she hops up to her feet.

Leaning over to the table and pulling out a gun, black, little on the heavier side. Turning it butt facing Emily, "Show me your stance."

What is she doing? "I'm trying to save the world, with everyone."


Even in Emily's expression alone, the exclamation is hollow and low, distance in her eyes. Her gaze flits from Eve to gun to Eve again, her reaction dripping in reservations. Her head tips down toward the proffered gun again, and Emily remains robbed of words. Despite her reluctance, she reaches out to accept the handgun, trying to immediately get over how it feels different than hers, or any of the ones she'd discovered Teo had hidden around the house. This definitely does not feel like the decoy cereal gun, either. She frowns and shoves the reservations down.

Her posture suddenly eases as she looks over the gun, turning it over in her hand before she faces away from Eve. She breathes in as her arms lift, posture squaring, one hand supporting the bottom of the gun to steady it while the other refines the target she mentally assigns to the wall. She treats it as though this were real, as if she's really about to fire. Devon's reminder to keep her steadying hand at a slight pull while her guiding hand pushes is hardly visible, but influences the hold she keeps regardless.

She hears Teo standing behind her, murmuring into her ear. It's the easiest geometry you've ever met. You've got this, bucaneve. Her gaze sharpens again.

Emily still doesn't know about Eve's whole saving the world business. But she knows she'd fight to bring Squeaks home in a heartbeat.

She slides her finger off the trigger and exhales out slowly.

"Bene bene ragazza." Clapping her hands sharply as she circles Emily, "Gilly was just a few years older than you when I taught her how to shoot. She's got the aim." Basking in those good memories for a moment. "A gun or any weapon can be a tool, just an instrument of inflicting pain or you can be one with it. Just like with any gift. Be a tool or be unified." Leaning in close to Emily's ear before darting away.

"You'll want to get used to different weights. What if you're in a fight and you lose the gun you're most familiar with? It should matter little because you are one with any weapon, with any tool, any gift. Do you…" Eve's words are soft, not mocking. She doesn't berate that's not how you teach, at least not how Eve herself does. She winks and chuckles as she sits and holds her hand out for the firearm. It doesn't take Eve being a psychic to tell that Emily wanted to say more, more of what she could do or offer.

"Understand that? Do you… have a gift?" Maybe it was rude to ask someone's status but Eve has always been a touch invasive. The former seer realizes she had never inquired. "The Young Ones have always had mundanes in the family, like Young Chimo! But they usually seem to attract.. others like them, yes?"

Emily is quick to turn the weapon back over, her cautious regard of Eve returning. She hears the implications in her tone, is aware of the coaxing even before the question is fully formed from her. The softening of her tone is likewise noted, Eve's brusqueness mellowing. Emily knows she knows where she treads is ground that needs treated carefully. She pries, but she doesn't demand.

It makes the young woman waver in keeping her secret clutched tightly to herself. She's still not updated her information on her registration. Her eyes close hard but brief. "Maybe," she answers Eve evenly so there's not a lapse in the conversation.

She takes in a breath to answer, but the words fail her and her gaze slides off of the former seer. So many people, much closer to her than Eve is, don't know. It makes her even more uneasy to share. "Listen, what I do— it…" Emily's eyes harden.

"I'm not like you, Eve," comes from her in a burst of honesty she wasn't expecting. "I was a kid during the war, I was kept from it all. My mother moved us to keep us safe. The first time I picked up a gun was last year— Teo's the one who taught me self-defense. There's still some days I wake up and wonder where I left my crutches, because it wasn't all that long ago I still needed them." She looks back to Eve. "I'm not some superhero, I'm not some secret agent; I don't know if I'd be a remotely useful person in bringing Squeaks home from Praxia. I'm definitely not 'one with my gift', for that matter." It feels so strange to say that out loud in reference to herself, even with the distance granted by quoting Eve's words.

Her voice quiets, the words a hush. "But I speak." Emily explains, a long pause after. "And people listen. If I believe in it enough, people listen. If it comes from a place of…" There's a distance in her gaze for a moment before she comes back to the present, trying to remember how Astor put it. "If it comes from a place of justice, of compassion, then people believe what I do."

Emily's brow knits after that as she meets Eve's gaze again. The former seer had called her Emily earlier. She was that level of serious about all of this, so hopefully she'd take that same care in guarding the young woman's capability.

"Who's Chess?" she asks softly.

When someone tells Eve a secret, she leans into it. Wanting to absorb it all, it's intimate. Someone is letting you in, she appreciates that. Eve also finds it necessary to trust someone, she must in fact know their secrets.

Call it old habits, dying hard. Or not dying at all.

Emily's Secret.

Is rather juicy indeed.

"What you have been and what you can and will become are two different things." Naturally Emily is smart enough to know this.

"But aha," Eve surges forward and looks closely into Emily's eyes. "Chess is a warrior, one of my dearest friends, someone I would kill for." The brutal honesty is something Emily has earned in this moment and Eve's tone is one in passing. She's already explained that Chess is a daughter of Adam. This is a very brief stop on the Eve train.

"How long does your gift last? And justice?" Eve slowly takes Emily's arm, "How does your body and mind know that something is orbiting the world of the just and true. Mmm interesting, interesting. Have you been practicing, flexing your muscles?" It doesn't matter what the younger woman's answer is because Eve is dragging her up and obviously intent on bringing her to the main floor of Cat's.

"Come come!"

Full speed ahead.

At least until Emily slams on the brakes. Her heels literally dig into the floor as she tries to take her arm back to herself after being caught off-guard.

Stupid. That was stupid of her. She never should have said anything. Goddam—

"Eve, no no n—" Emily tries to be clearer, but she's in a panic. The questions and the dragging lead her to believe her secret might not just be hers here in a moment. She grabs ahold of Eve's arm in return to try and ground her. "Eve, please," she pleads, her eyes wide.

She's never seen Emily like this.

"This isn't something to just flaunt around. It's serious. It's not just something you practice on people like that." Each word begs her to change course, to ground in place, and Emily's blue eyes never leave Eve's red ones.

Eve does stop, just not in the way that Emily is begging for. The older woman wheels around to stare down at the younger woman. "Who taught you to be afraid of your gift?" She chides and doesn't let go of her arm. The former seer takes another deliberate step up the stairs, "Shamed. You think because you can manipulate the mind of others that it's not right. That is the normal way of thinking and you my girl are not normal."

Drilling that into Emily's head as she kicks the door to the bar open and looks around the place. "Practice? You will, lest you learn nothing at all. Who are your parents?" Which in this day and age might prove to be a rather rude question with a lot of kids having lost their parents.

There, sitting up now and awake is the regular Larry. Poppy is nowhere in sight, probably in the back yelling at Sassy. "Inebriation, if the mind is warped. Easier to slip suggestion. Have you learned this?" All the whole Eve steers Emily to the table where Larry sits, drinking a beer.

The man looks up, shaggy beard. The look he gives is one that's through Emily and Eve. He has a flask he drinks from before he walks over to Cat's when they open. Every morning until every evening.

"Ask," And the tension builds. Just what would Eve ask the younger blonde to do??

"What he had for breakfast."

All Emily's fighting and pulling back of her arm suddenly stops, a complete lack of muscle tension happening. Ask him what? She looks between Eve and then back to the drunk.

"Are you joking?" she balks, acerbic to a fault. She suddenly pulls her arm again, forcefully enough it finally comes back to her. Eve's other various questions go without answer, parentage left as far aside as she can put it, and arguments against the morality of practicing her ability momentarily suspended— because—

Was she really being fucking serious right now?

"That's— that's not how this works," Emily insists, even though she doesn't know.

"Larry's a liar, cheat and four time divorcee. Lost custody of his kids right before the war and…." Larry numbly protests though all of it is true, she knows because he's spilled all of his guts to the pale woman and any of the other workers in here.

"I don't joke often Paparazzi."

That's 100% a lie but as you will.

"Ask him. What. He. Had. For. Breakfast. You gotta-" Pausing to stare at Emily, Larry is at a loss but he wants to answer that he had a six pack for breakfast. "You have to want it, correct? So. Want him to tell you what's in his belly right now." Eve is insistent, she's not willing to back down.

She's waiting.

She's ridiculous is what she is. This whole thing is insane.

Emily hears Eve's attempt to lessen the man's image without really listening to it. Her brow is burrowing, her eyes on Eve's again. She has to want it, the seer says, but what she asks isn't what the young woman wants, by any means.

However, an idea does take hold, grabbing her by the gut.

"What did //you have for breakfast, Eve?" sounds so much more right, so much //better than using the clueless drunk as the target of her question. It felt more than fair to show Eve exactly what she was toying with and why it needed treated carefully.

Her brow pops expectantly. Well?


It's said without a second thought, Eve was on no sort of guard. But the moment the answer leaves her lips,

Eve does what Eve does.

Something unpredictable.

Her pale hand snaps out to grip Emily's throat and squeeze. At Emily's back with her other hand covering the young woman's mouth. "Paparazzi," a demented cackle and Eve shakes her head wildly with equally wild eyes. "That's good. Quick thinking, a word of advice." The woman's hot breath blows on the blonde's ear. "If you ever use, your very special gift on me again. Make sure it's to have me blow my brains out!" HAHA! What fun!

"Because your chords will no longer work!" It's a very cheery delivery from the former seer. Lucky for Eve that Poppy hasn't come back out from the office. "I wanted you to help him, he's a lost lamb. Lost his everything in the war. Some encouragement for a better life, a better mindset. No more hollow ghosts and bones but" Eve shrugs, "You would rather sit in fear of yourself."


Oh that's Poppy. Flashing a too wide white teeth grin towards her employee. "Heya Pop!"

The bronze skinned woman shakes her head and puts her hands on her hips, "How can I feed her if her mouth is clamped shut by your mitts?"

It's not like Emily gets a vote in the first place, but Poppy is definitely quality and can stay. Burnt bacon and all.

The young woman grabs Eve by the wrist, pinching hard with her hand to loose the grasp on her before throwing her weight behind shoving Eve's arm aside. Emily immediately steps back and grasps at her throat, chin unconsciously tucked against any further assault while she levels a defensive glare back the bar's owner.

"Just because I have a respect for what I can do doesn't mean I'm afraid, Eve. Not every person goes shooting from the fucking hip every day with their ability. Not everybody lacks control." Embittered by what's happened, Emily turns away entirely, storming for the door.

Thanks, Poppy. Sorry, Poppy. The girl would stay and say as much but she's afraid Eve will do something else unpredictable, and that next time someone will get hurt by it.

Emily makes it to the front door and leads hard into it, pushing it open to the street.

Poppy just shakes her head as she watches the exchange. Eve yells and hops backwards from Emily as she maneuvers her way away from the former seer. Watching through a curtain of midnight hair.

"Training is training! Sweet Paparazzi!" A light snicker as she rubs the spot that Emily pinched her. Poppy comes over and swats at the older woman, Eve shrieks in kind but ends up leaning on Larry as she laughs.

The drunk barely registers a thing.

The deranged woman's laughter echoes after Emily as she makes her escape. Loud, cackling-like.

"She'll be back."

They always came back.

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