Participants:
| Scene Title | Rain, Rain, Rain |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | You were always sunrise and My sky was always grey, grey, grey Did you ever notice that It will never change, change, change Two friends reunite under a storm as one delivers bad news to the other. |
| Date | May 30, 2013 |
Just North of the Canadian Border
It's been a long day.
It's late, the sun already set. Even with the days getting longer as the they move into summer, the days seem too short to Roybn Quinn, alias Alice Roux. It's easy to lose track of time, days, people when all you ever are doing is driving from one place to another, shuttling people, guns, food, supplies, and occasionally trying not to get shot or blowing up vans to save people.
Tonight, she's just finished a drop off of a trio of families pulled out of a war zone, detained by the Mitchell administration and likely to have bullets put in their heads. Liberated by others, and then moved by Roux to safety, That process had taken up most of the last year and a half.
She's chosen not to head inside for the night yet. She may not, even, she may instead choose to sleep in her truck. It's nice, to have moments to herself. Tonight, in particular - listening to music alone, and singing along, isn't something she gets to do much anymore.
Tonight though? She's reclined back in the driver's seat, parked, and belting it. Singing is the only musical passion she has anymore, and she is flexing it. It's raining out, tonight, and the song more appropriate than she could ever hope.
I've had this thought for a while
I don't care if it is wrong cause it's mine
Let's put a flag in the ground
I've got a name for this town
She doesn't even notice that someone's approaching her vehicle, which is honestly just bad on her part. Even with it dark and her sunglasses sitting in the passanger seat, unneeded, she should be more aware than this.
You were always sunshine and
I was always rain, rain, rain
I thought me made a promise that
Thought we never break, break, break
You were always sunrise and
My sky was always grey, grey, grey
Did you ever notice that
It will never change, change, change
The approaching figure is black, slick, somewhat shapeless, and glistens in the dim light… but even were Roux paying attention, she'd soon enough see it resolve into a hooded woman, shoulders hunched within her coat against the falling rain. Squelching nearer, she pauses for a few moments, perhaps hoping to be noticed. Then she takes in a slow, deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to settle her shaking nerves and calm her racing heart, before closing the last few yards and forcing herself to extend a hand to knock upon the truck's door.
Even through the darkest night
You would always shine-
While the song keeps playing, the knock on the door cuts through the sound of music and singing and ellicits a yelp from Roux, eyes wide as she looks over to the window, her right hand reaching to the passanger's seat - there a pistol sits in a purse. Breathing heavy and startled, she stares at the figure for a moment, before releasing her grip on the gun and letting it fall back into her purse.
"Can I help you?" she asks as she rolls down the window, eyes half lidded and not quite yet recognising the apparent stranger. Brim of her hat pulled down a bit, she takes a deep breath. "Je suis désolé," she remarks apologetically, the French accent that she's at this point gotten used to having making the words roll off her tongue naturally. "You startled me. How can I help you?"
"C'est rien," emerges from the shadows beneath the hood. A pause to permit another - somewhat shorter - breath, then hands come up to flick back the rain-slick covering. «"Doing this in French might be appropriate, however,"» Ygraine says as she reveals her face. The hair is a glossy black even before the rain flows over it; her features are lean, as if she were down to competition weight, and her expression mingles sorrow with a heavy dose of fear.
The French catches Roux's attention - rarely is she spoken to in what's become her language of choice outside of drop offs in Quebec. But they weren't nearly that far north - wouldn't be unreasonable for some poor Quebecois woman to have migrated south, though. Outside of Montreal, she finds herself to not be a fan of the province.
But when Ygraine reveals herself, Roux's eyes widen, and almost immediately the door is flung open - probably knocking into the other woman, and music still playing she bounds out of the driver's seat and straight into a hug.
She doesn't say anything for a moment. She just embraces the other woman, as the song in the background fades - and then repeats, Roux having not noticed that she'd hit the repeat button when she went reaching for a gun. "I'm so glad you're okay," she says quietly, eyes closed.
The French catches Roux's attention - rarely is she spoken to in what's become her language of choice outside of drop offs in Quebec. But they weren't nearly that far north - wouldn't be unreasonable for some poor Quebecois woman to have migrated south, though. Outside of Montreal, she finds herself to not be a fan of the province.
But when Ygraine reveals herself, Roux's eyes widen, and almost immediately the door is flung open - probably knocking into the other woman, and music still playing she bounds out of the driver's seat and straight into a hug.
She doesn't say anything for a moment. She just embraces the other woman, as the song in the background fades - and then repeats, Roux having not noticed that she'd hit the repeat button when she went reaching for her gun. "I'm so glad you're okay," she says quietly, eyes closed.
Ygraine is presently more than a little wet, having spent some time trying to find her courage while lurking in the dark. She's even more surprised, having needed to dart back to avoid being knocked off her feet by the door, and then being wholly-unexpectedly glomped onto. That, clearly, was not a possibility that had even entered her head… and it takes Ygraine a few moments to draw her hands back in and awkwardly settle them upon her former lover's back. "I only get shot on the body armour, these days," she manages to quip, throat tight and voice hoarse.
Wet. Rain, rain, rain. Even despite the song still playing in the background and it's appropriateness, Roux hadn't quite taken that into accound, and now she's much wetter than she would really care to be. But, whatever. "I've manged to only get shot twice." Not in armor. Alice Roux doesn't have any, because it helps her remain inconspicuous. And, she's just never taken the time to get some.
Both times hurt like hell. "One was a busted drop off I barely got away from, and the other…" Well, she doesn't like her version of that story, and Thomas Cooper isn't here to tell his, so it goes untold. She steps back a bit, to the point where the warmish rain doesn't bother her anymore. Kicking the door to her truck closed, she looks up at Ygraine and smile, grey eyes staring at her as rain runs down her scarred face.
"Did Graeme tel you to look out for me? I saw him, a bit ago." She's lost track of how long. Two weeks? Two months? Ugh.
Ygraine seems quite frankly confused. Hugs, smiles, bounciness… this she hadn't anticipated at all. One hand comes up to run over her hair, then dash water from her eyes. "The last time I had any significant hunk of myself blown out was in the Dome, thankfully. It… I… yeah. I was… surprised to hear you'd sent good wishes." She shrugs awkwardly, eyes flickering to and fro as she searches the other woman's features. "I'm… I've been trying to look out for you, yes. Since the War started, I'd hoped to hear you were alive. But, umm, of late, I've had another reason…"
"Why wouldn't I?" That's where the enthusiasm ends, Roux frowning. Suddenly everything feels a bit more heavy, the joy of seeing a friend fading as reality sets in. She frowns, looking off to the side. "Why wouldn't I?" she repeats. "The whole… reason I'm not holed up in Quebec working in some coffee shop or something asinine is because I wanted to help people I care about." And that, ostensibly, includes Ygraine.
Let's not bring up, again, the people she hurt in getting here, though.
She fixes back on Ygraine with a worried expression. Comments like that always bode ill, particularly in these times. "What's up, Ygraine?"
"The last time I saw you…." Ygraine's voice hitches, as she bites back the urge to say nearly two years ago. "The last time… you were talking about being unable to do any of this any more. And… you sent messages. Two I know of. And… I've tried emailing, and never got anything, and….." She closes her eyes, trying to suppress the roiling mixture of loss and fear and confusion. And the achingly powerful temptation to fall back into seeing this woman as her beloved Robyn.
"I… I got Charlotte into Canada. Near the Galloways. I've checked in on her whenever I'm on the right side of the border. But this last time…. This last… it… I'm, I'm sorry."
The hitching of Ygraine's voice earns a quirked eyebrow from Roux, head tilting to the side a bit as she regards Ygraine. Emails, of course she wouldn't have gotten. She hasn't been in a place to check email in nearly a year. She didn't own a laptop, much less a computer or a smart phone. She purses her lips, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
And then it does.
Charlotte.
Her mother.
"W-what?" She knew her mother had been in Boston, even back in 2011. She'd sent a letter her way at one point, asking her to get out of the country, to go back to her dad or to France. The fact that Ygraine was looking after her mother didn't surprise her, in the time they'd been together, her mom had taken a liking to Ygraine, and such the other way around.
But-
"How?" is a breathless question that comes next. She knows that I'm sorry means, in this context. She's had to deliver that herself a few times. "HOW?!" she suddenly shrieks. "She was across the border! How even th' fuck-" All illusion of a French accent falls away as Roux reverts a full Irish gait and tone. "What the 'ell happened!" She's not madat Ygraine, of course, but- well.
"She… signed on with a local aid group, earlier this year. Working out of Toronto. Running supplies to the refugee camps over the border." Ygraine stiffly jerks her head Southwards. "I'm… I've not been able to find out if they drove into the middle of a fight, or were deliberately ambushed, or mistaken for someone else…. But someone shot up her convoy. She was hit. More than once. I am really, truly, sorry."
Like mother, like daughter.
Her first instinct, of course, is that Ygraine FitzRoy is fucking with her. But Roux knows that the other woman isn't heartless. A hand moves over her mouth as she her eyes widen and she begins to breathe heavy, reality setting in deeper still. One hand curls into a ball as tears begun streaming down her face.
There'd been a lot of casualties in this war. Friends, places, relationships, careers. But this is one she never expected to have to face. Never imagined. Somehow, Charlotte Roux had been untouchable in all this madness. Thoughts and words stream through her mind as she backs up against her truck. Variations in different languages of "no, no, no", "it wasn't her", "this is bullshit", and other comments.
None of them are voiced. Instead, Robyn Quinn breaks out into sobs, her entire persona falling away.
Ygraine had quite frankly both expected and dreaded this. The distraught woman is not - very probably never really was - 'her' Robyn… but this still wrenches at Ygraine's heart, over and above the pain of talking about the loss of a friend. That Charlotte was someonne whom she thought that she had personally ensured would be safe just makes it all the worse.
There's more than one sniffle from the Briton, before she cuffs at her eyes with the back of one hand, then forces herself to step forward, reach out, and put that same hand on her companion's shoulder. "The charity got her body back to Toronto. The… I can give you an address for the marker. Show you, if you need me to."
Show her. Oh god, this is real. Robyn trembles, a hand reaching up to take Ygraine's when it's placed on her shoulder. And then she reaches out, pulls the Briton into another, tighter hug as she continues sobbing. Another casualty to this war, and one of the only ones that could've been worse than Else was - Her mother, Elaine, Sable, Ygraine, or Rue. She wails again, balling up the fabric of Ygraine's coat in her hands. She doesn't answer. She trusts Ygraine well enough to know.
She sniffles, still crying as words begin to filter through the tears - not English words. Not French this time either. It sounds like she's saying a prayer - but in Gaelic this time.
Ygraine knows only a handful of tourist-sign words in either version of Gaelic - but the rhythm of the prayer is familiar, and some lines seem to have been written to sound close to the more widely-known English forms. Biting her lower lip against dual sources of heartache, she forces herself to gently enfold the distraught woman in a wet embrace. It goes against all her prior resolution to guard against anything that might induce her to get too emotional… but if a hug can ease a newly-motherless woman's pain, then a hug she should surely have. Especially when the lost woman was close to them both. Tension makes the embrace somewhat tighter than intended, the power in her arms suggesting that Ygraine might now be quite literally fighting fit, but it's certainly warm.
Tension there may be, but it's the last thing on Quinn's mind right now. Burying her head against Ygraine's shoulder, she just lets it out. With all the rain, it would be impossible to tell the difference between that and her tears anyway, and back in the front seat of her truck, the song repeats again. It's several moments before she finally begins to fall quiet, the sobs giving away to quiet sniffles. "She didn't even do anything," she mutters quietly. "Not like I did. She was just… there." A part of her wants to be angry at her mother for going back into a warzone - but she knows she would've wanted to help. That's where she gets it from after all. "T-Thank you, Ygraine," comes much more quietly. Quinn wouldn't have wanted to hear that news from anyone else.
Ygraine actually suspects that she might well be among the handful of people from whom Quinn would least want to hear such news - but it was her responsibility, a duty owed to Charlotte: a friend should speak for her, not a stranger behind whom Ygraine might hide. Being thanked prompts a look of surprise, though it's unlikely to be seen from Quinn's vantage point on Ygraine's shoulder. "She did a lot," she counters gently. "But not in any way that should have seen her hurt. I… hoped she would be safe. Truly. I wish I could have found her something suitable in Canada. But I didn't. And… she was keen to make a difference as best she could. It wasn't her first convoy South of the border. Or her second. That she was still making the runs must mean she felt they made a difference. If they weren't, she'd have found something else. She was standing up… not just making a gesture for what she believed in, but directly standing up for people in need."
Ygraine can't see it, the way Quinn has buried her face into her shoulder, but that brings a smile to her face, another sharp sniffle following. "I had no idea." That her mom had been doing so much to help out - or that it mirrored what her daughter had been doing in a lot of ways. Another shallow sob, and she finally lifts herself from Ygraine's shoulder, out of her arms, falling against the door of the truck behind her.
She's silent, looking down at the ground. "I'll have t' make sure dad knows. He'd want t', even if they didn't talk much anymore." She's proper soaked now, angling her head to look up at the rain. She closes her eyes, and stares at the sky for a long moment.
"Him, I never met." Ygraine finds a hint of a smile to accompany her words, before taking a self-conscious squelch of a step backwards now that the hug has been brought to a close. "I… was going to try to get in touch, if I couldn't find you soon. I'd probably already have done so, if I hadn't had that message from Graeme to let me know you were out here, somewhere."
"Doesn't leave Ireland. Well, except t' go t' France." After all, Conner Quinn had to meet Charlotte Roux somehow so that Robyn Quinn could exist. Still staring up at the sky, Robyn trembles, hands clenching into fists as sadness begins to give away to an anger she hasn't felt since the last week on Pollepel Island.
"This is so f-fucked," she breathes out. "I- I can't do this anymore, Ygraine." Words the Briton has heard before, but the tone of them is much different this time. Robyn grits her teeth, lowering her gaze to look at her. "Do y' know where anyone else is? Lynette, Colette? Raith, Ryans, or Avi? Hana or Barbara?" Old Ferry contacts.
She looks back at her truck. "God. I can't…" A deep breath, tears mixing with rain again. "This can't keep happening!"
There's distinct hesitation once again, Ygraine sucking her lower lip between her teeth, tasting the rain upon it. "I… am kind of calling the tactical shots for a small unit. You might possibly have heard of us from some of the refugees. Maybe not. 'The Chessmen'. We're in touch with Ryans' Special Activities people, and with a group run by Hana. We've collaborated with them at points; a couple of people we trained are with Hana now. Devon and, umm, Rue. She's one of our photojournalists, trying to document what happens out there. Lynette, I hear rumours of. She's part of a crazily high-powered Evoved group who go by 'the Olympians'. I believe Nicole Nichols is with her. Colette, she's with Hana. I think Avi is as well, though he's not one I ever knew personally. Barbara… I don't know where she wound up. I hope she's all right, but I've barely heard mention of her since this all started. I do know some people made it to bunkers and hold-outs in various places. We've got one ourselves, that's turned into a pretty significant forwarding station for people we get out of hot zones. But… we have direct help from Alia, which assists a lot in keeping on top of things - fucked-up though the 'net is in most of the US - and we're in radio-contact with Noa, who can help to ensure we stay in touch with the other groups interested in dealing with us."
Teeth grind as Ygraine rattles off friend after friend and their involments in this war - including the revelation that Ygraine herself is helping to lead some small group. Her gaze is distant, steely, now looking past Ygraine and into the vast darkness behind her. She gives a shallow nod over few moments, but little other indication she's taking it all in us.
"Get me in contact with someone. Anyone." She has preferences, but she doesn't care. She knows how much of a cliche it is, to let the death of a loved one drive thoughts like the one she's having now. She doesn't care about that later. Abruptly, she turns away, a hand on the door of her truck. "Need some time to thnk," she adds as she pulls the door open, before looking at Ygraine.
"Think I'm done running."
The slam of the door after she climbs into the driver side of her truck again accentuates the point, the sounds of the still playing radio drowning out everything else except the patter of rain on the roof, the song starting over again.
Don't let them hold you down
I won't let them throw you around
I'll be the strong one now
I'll be the rock somehow
Well, that wasn't the route Ygraine had expected to take to reach this point - but a slammed door, rain drumming on her head, and barely a clue what to do next: that is pretty much exactly where she had thought she would wind up at the end of the conversation. She opens her mouth once, then twice, before deciding that there's no chance of being heard over rain and music even if she could think of something worth saying. Sighing, she lets her shoulders slump, before she raises a hand in jerky farewell, and turns to trudge back towards somewhere she can at least hope to dry off.
That done, she'll let Noa know that there's another body available for the fight - Heaven help them all.
You were always sunshine and
I was always rain, rain, rain
Thought we made a promise then
Said we'll never break, break, break…