Shared Experiences


eve2_icon.gif huruma_icon.gif

Scene Title Shared Experiences
Synopsis Two women with similar experiences happen upon each other in a bar. The precog receives counsel from a Wise One.
Date May 26, 2018

Cat's Cradle

Huruma has been here before, knowing just how to avoid Eve’s presence thanks to her ability or catching a show while she was incapacitated otherwise. A bit of it has been sheer luck, too. But this time is going to be different; Huruma isn’t worried about Eve, nor is she avoiding bumping into her. She feels decent, in both spirit and self. Enough that even Eve will have a hard time turning her over.

The evening is still young, and though tonight’s musical act hasn’t started there seems to be an average crowd littered through Cat’s Cradle. A quiet, sort of companionable hour, where drinks are sitting idle on tables between friends more interested in chatting.

Huruma slips in as she is apt to, dressed in red blouse and black skirt, the former drawn into a loose knot that trails fabric down her hip. Her eyes sweep the room as she enters, slinking her way towards the bar proper with intent in her gaze; she hones in on the bartender, brows arching with a question.

“Do you have an act schedule?” Huruma leans in over the edge of the bar, one hand lifted in a vague gesture and leaning into the other. “Or do I show up and hope for the best…?”

It could go either way.

The entrance of a figure such as Huruma is one that can be noted and given that Cat’s Cradle has seemed to be a hotspot for all manner of people from the war, there are people itching for the sight of a war hero. Whispers at her back, though all emotions are more of awe, respect and admiration for the imposing figure.

The bartender ‘Sassy’ tilts his head at the woman with a good natured grin. “Some young thang is gonna grace this stage in about an hour, pretty voice. You might like her.” A wink follows from the man and he goes to pull a glass from the rack hanging above, “What can I get you?”

The music is low, soft dissonant chords over a enthralling beat. The playlist is so random here, you have a chance of hearing anything.

The whispers spike even more as a figure emerges out of a side door that everyone knows is where Eve usually is. Painting, smoking or planning all sorts of mischief. The woman in question leans heavily on a metal bo staff that clicks on the ground in her wake. A robe of sorts the color a deep crimson covers her body fabric shifting with a rustle as she moves.

While she may be on a bad leg, the healing process has been good to her and she moves faster than a month ago, faster than a week ago too. Eve is taking her small victories where she can. Upon spotting the other woman Eve breaks out into a wide smile. “As I live and breathe, a goddess returns.”

The feeling of eyes on your back is a tad more solid for an empath; she feels the eyes, and whatever emotions come with it. Suffice to say, they largely put her in a good mood even before she made it to the bar. As the bartender gives her his reply she takes a perch on one of the metal stools, crossing her legs at the ankle rather than knee.

“Might like her, hm?” Huruma’s low laugh puts a slow grin on her lips, one arm still leaning onto the bar. “Bourbon. What about a calendar of events? I want to bring someone next time…” Further thoughts get put briefly on hold, Huruma’s head canting to the side before Eve shows her face; the distinct lack of surprise in seeing her there lets the tall woman bask fully under one more compliment.

“Eve…” Pale eyes give a study to the state of her, and the choice of attire, just a quick once over. “You are looking as puzzling as ever, dear.” It is here that Huruma’s smile finally flashes a touch of tooth, splitting into a mirror of Eve’s. “I know you’ve been getting into a bit of trouble here and there…” A finger lifts with a ‘tsk’ of tongue to teeth.

A glass of bourbon is slid over as well as an ashtray for Eve who strides forward to settle into a barstool next to her comrade. “I'm full of trouble you know that,” She says slyly plucking a joint out her her bra and lighting it with a fixed stare on Huruma. While exhaling a piece of paper with the scheduled acts of the month are listed on is passed to Huruma by the bartender. Something every weekend, weeknight shows. They’ve got it all.

Smoke drifts up to the ceiling and upon closer inspection Huruma would notice her eyes.. they’re brown now. Eve arches an eyebrow, “The staff helps with this dud of a leg,” gesturing to her cast before snorting. “I got thrown down a well.” In a tone of ‘Could You Believe It?’ The robe.. isn't commented on. She lives upstairs.

And she likes how the fabric feels.

The Oracle takes a moment to look at the taller woman again before leaning in slightly with an exaggerated whisper, “Did you hear him? On the radio? He called.

As Eve makes herself comfortable at the bar, joint and all, Huruma cannot help but give her a sly grin in return. She nods a thank you to the bartender, sliding the calendar closer and glancing over it first. It’s a lot of stuff. Something for anyone. Huruma takes a closer look at Eve’s cast, which was largely the target of her puzzling.

“You got thrown down a well?” Huruma sounds a bit incredulous, but with the injury, what is she to contest it? “You are getting around well enough, it seems…” She murmurs back, lifting her glass to her lips when Eve leans in. There’s a tiny hitch in her sipping, and both curved brows lift in a severely questioning look. The long lines of her neck shift when she swallows back what was going to come out on her tongue. A defensive word and posture are stifled.

“Eve…” The older woman gives a soft sigh, fingers turning her glass in place. “I did, yes. I heard him. I have only told one person that I am certain it was him.” A pause. “Two, including you. Discretion is the better part of valor, mm?”

Waving off the well story except for, “Hamson, he's a son of a bitch.”

Her lips part as she shrugs her shoulder. “Valor, discretion. Him. He's him. And him is not being nice.” Eve’s expression grows tense. Leaning back and puffing on the joint her expression stays the same. Blowing the smoke from her nostrils much like Samson himself, the oracle looks over to the mirror facing them behind the bar.

“You’re friends,” a pale finger tapping on the bar surface. “With that old cowboy. The old Ferry, he has a certain set of skills, yes. We blew up robots together back before the war.” A slight distraction, “Where the hell were yo-” stopping herself with a snort Eve waves her hand in front of her face.

“I had a dream about blondie. He's up to no good as usual but this time..” head tilting to the aide to stare at Huruma through the mirror. Brown eyes focused solely on her. “He's planning genocide. Not just one, not just a hundred. All of them..” Not fully explaining who all of ‘them’ are. Eve’s voice raises and then she's calming herself down with another pull from her herbs.

“You’ll have a choice to make and I don't envy you. Two friends, opposite sides. Separated by blood and genetics, such tiny things aren't they?” Looking nervous, Eve bites her lower lip.

Huruma narrows her eyes at ‘Hamson’, nodding slowly as if she understands perfectly. She does not.

The rest is what is important, anyhow. She takes a larger mouthful of her drink, brow pinching as Eve chatters and the liquid rolls down her throat. A laugh forms at ‘cowboy’, soft and amused; the rest is absorbed with a distinct, stony stare at Eve in the mirror. Studying.

“Where the hell was I what?” It’s faintly accusatory, her mouth turning down at the edges. Pale eyes crease as she moves onto the rest. “Of course he is planning genocide. He always was.” Huruma is not shocked by what Eve tells her, even less so that he is up to no good. “Different ways, always the same.” The drag from the smoke in Eve’s hands has Huruma levelling her ability towards the other woman, hanging like a cloud around her head. A caress of calm comes next. Easy, tiger.

“What do you mean, a choice to make?” Dark face angles towards Eve next to her, rather than the mirror. Huruma has the feeling she knows exactly what Eve means, but getting the woman to say something straight is a task. Her voice is a tad darker. Sounds like Eve isn’t the only one that needs some Calm Time. “I have made my decisions. Have you?”

That caress is felt by the pale woman and she almost sighs in gratitude, she has been wound up. The woman shakes and looks at Huruma with a half lidded stare. “He wants to kill them all. All the ones without gifts. Our friends..” her mind goes to Megan the nurse who helped her when she almost died from the Evo flu. Eve’s emotions feel as erratic as ever but there's a distinct spike of fear there. Fear for others.

For herself.

“I.. he saved my life once.” If Huruma remembers that tale told so many years ago. “I..” brow furrows and the oracle sighs. “I'm afraid Huruma. That we won't be able to stop it. The dream.. was so.. horrible. It's really coming.” Eve’s calm sits there hanging and intermingling with the vortex of emotion she's feeling. “I feel.. gratitude for him bringing me back. Is that bad?” It seems she has made her decision as well. But is still wrestling.

The bristle that had settled on Huruma before seems to dissipate, her chin tucking as her eyes scan the bartop and observe the idle turn of her glass.

“I know. He’s always wanted that. For a time I was with him on that. Remember?” Huruma looks up, brows dipping inward, frustration lurking under her skin. Eve’s emotions are read, filed, considered. The tendrils of her ability stretch out at her side, curling around Eve and battening down the more turbulent feelings she seems to be having. While the empath does his, her features soften.

“No. He did it for me, once. I think I may have actually died, even a little.” The flick of Huruma’s eyes are more sad than conflicted. “It was so long ago now. Even long before you… when we were still… wanting the same things.” Her head shakes, lips tight. “It is difficult for me to fear him. What dream, Eve?”

“I do, I do. There's not many of us around who were then.” An observation, these two women are survivors first and foremost. Waves of calm and peace sedate Eve, she's just talking now. The tension in her shoulders and chest relaxes, dissipating with the smoke that wafts up towards the ceiling. There's a long look given to Huruma. Thank you. It says.

Her back leans against the bar and she nods, “He saves us. To use us. Kam said.” Or use Eve.

The question gets a sidelong look from the seer and she ashes the joint after taking another pull, the orange embers lighting up Eve’s pale face more with the light of the venue already in place. “I.. have been doing things.” A sly look as she draws circles on the surface of the bar.

“Not too long ago I met a time fairy. We traveled together already back to ancient Japan! There were so many bodies! A big battle had just finished. Crawling through the grim and gore, bleeding hearts. The last few drops on my face. I was dirt.” Eve stares up at the smoke in the air, “He was there. I guess we met before we all met. Maybe he just doesn't remember. Or maybe he did.” She can't be sure. It's all confusing for her. “But he went and chopped my head clean off. I was a goner! Separation anxiety to the max!” There's a snort as if Eve had not just said she was beheaded. Her expression changes though and that calm and peace aura is orbited by fear.

“But then she saved me. Put me back together. Lickity split. The one with the gold eyes..” she's quiet. Kam said to leave it alone. But she imagines it's too late to keep the secret. Totally at least.

Huruma turns on her stool to face Eve more readily, keeping an observant eye on the other woman’s emotions. The less stressed she is, Huruma suspects, the more she will make sense. She hopes.

Kam said? There is a spark in Huruma’s eyes, though she keeps it back. The story itself, she pays rapt attention to. Her expression proves difficult to read as it goes on, that same spark lingering in the background. She allows Eve that bloom of fear, but watches it for changes.

“Someone put you… back together.” That is, if Eve wasn’t on LSD or something and tripping out. There is a precedent of odd things, however, that makes Huruma want to take it at face value.

“Gold eyes?” Her query is unsure, her own contrasting irises stirring with inner thoughts. “Mnn…” She makes a nondescript sound of frustration. “Before, you said— Kam?”

There’s only one Kam that knows about this. About him.

“…Did she show you something too?”

Huruma being adept at guarding her emotions serve her well as Eve spills her heart out, the tone is genuine. Eve at least visibly believes this is what happened. She's been trapped in a dream before though.

“It is.. something of so much power.. anything is possible.” The long haired woman believes.

Another ashing of the joint and Eve is staring Huruma in her eyes. “It has gold eyes always, their sign.” Eve feels better calling it.. it after Kam’s instance that notions of “Mother” not aligning with its true nature. “No, she didn't.” That answer is short and Eve’s eyes squint. “She told me a story bu- wait a minute. You know something.

A manic grin and nervous look this way and that way before she's nudging Huruma’s barstool with her foot. The tornado of Eve’s psychosis quietly stirring, “Come onnnn, we’re sharing. Shall I grab the cookies?” That last question isn't totally what she wants to do. But cookies are always nice.

“It sounds as if I am not the only one that knows something.” Huruma tips her glass to her lips. She squints hard at the nudging and begging, promptly shaking her head over cookies. “I am fine. No cookies.”

“I have seen the eyes… on a woman to whom they did not belong.” Huruma's first admission is quiet. “And Ms. Nisatta is a postcognitive. She is able to project it… like a film. At the gala she showed me… something. From his blade.” Her next admissions are just as quiet, with the addition of some sadness. “I think it was his first love that she showed me. In the midst of war, it seemed. I am not certain why that scene specifically. Unless it was to tug on my heartstrings, in which case she succeeded.”

See? She is okay with sharing. To a degree.

“It does not feel as if it is a good thing that you have me so curious. You know what say about curiosity and felines.” There is a moment where Huruma considers Eve again, and she tentatively holds up her hand in a loose gesture to her smoking, palm up. “Do you feel like sharing that?”

Her nose wrinkles and she sighs in happiness, “Sister Seer,” she breathes in and Eve looks pleased to hear the news of Kam’s ability. Extending her pale hand to pass the joint to Huruma, smoke trailing between the two. A smokey exchange. The smoke like a cover for the secrets they are divulging. “He must have had a lot of those.. loves.” A contemplative tone and sad expression on her face. Living so long, how lonely.

Brown eyes narrow at the mention of golden eyes, “Here in America?” Shaking her head, “She was right, Kam.. she said it might be too late.” The seer bites her lip as she twiddles her thumbs. “Adam had a friend way back then, that lady with the gold eyes. I don't know.. if they are friends still.. maybe they are wreaking havoc together.” Musing as she plays with her fingers.

“Kam has spoken. She said they stopped her.. IT.. long ago. She said it wasn't a person.. it was a idea.. a thing… growing stronger because of its ego.. the more we speak of it the more powerful it becomes. And she wouldn't speak of it, afraid it wasn't too late. But it's here..

Gripping the edge of the bar with her hands, feelings of unease mix in with the dead. A dark circle orbiting the atmosphere of peace and warmth projected onto her by Eve. It keeps her steady, thinking clearly.. though her nerves cause her to shift her gaze to and fro. “The First. If it's here already..” grow furrowing. “I have had dreams of late, regarding her and a science project called Looking Glass! They must be connected, the Institute makes the Looking Glass.. they unknowingly bring her here..” Eve looks confused and she stares at Huruma blankly then, “The Major knows about the Institute and Looking Glass.”

Huruma might even know about it already. “But my dreams also showed me war. He is coming for the people without gifts, Adam is relentless you know this. Something about a giant robot in the desert. //Four Horsemen. My brain has been all over Revelations and I don't think it was an acid trip!” Eve had microdosed shrooms today.. but it was this morning.

“Something is backing him, something I'm looking into with my new brown eyes,” blinking them dramatically for the other woman opposite of her. “Praxis Heavy, the search begins there.”

Taking the smoke as Eve passes it over, Huruma holds the draw of it in her lungs for a prolonged moment before breathing it out in a plume through her nose. With her irritation brewing steadily, it seems to mimic a perturbed, ebony dragon.

As Eve continues, Huruma sits back and listens, taking a second draw before passing the roll back to the other woman. Just needed a couple. She’s going to be fine, hopefully.

“You are losing me on the biblical portions.” Huruma starts, raising a brow. “But I am familiar.” She considers those eyes staring back at her. “Praxis? Would not be his first time working with something like that, I can assure you. I made quite a mint from what he left me, years ago. As for war, well… the attack on Yamagato has made me suspect.” Praxis would make sense.

“Kam was telling you about this, and that she’s stopped it before…?” A thing. A vampiric, nameless subject that feeds off of the idea of itself. Huruma seems stuck on the other part. That Nisatta has been involved far more deeply than she had thought. No wonder she was asking about the last time Huruma spoke to Adam. “Yes, over here… I saw something strange during a mission with Wolfhound. When I checked with Ben he confirmed the oddity of it.”

“Looking Glass? Like Carroll?” The bourbon is finished off with a swig this time, and Huruma taps at the bar, motioning for a fill and ice this time. Her eyes meet Eve’s, steady and unwavering. “The Major chooses her confidants carefully. I am not too familiar with this Glass” Knowing Hana, that is purposeful. Huruma knows that she is very compartmentalized when it comes to classification. Need to know, et al. “but it sounds like a terrible idea, if it breeds concepts into devils.”

Taking the joint back the precog nods her head, “Maybe he's already striking. Quick and dramatic.” His style. Hers kinda too. Her thoughts going too Kam and her warnings before shuddering at the sound of someone with golden eyes being spotted in the States. It is too late then. “She warned me to speak of it is to give it power but I think it's powerful enough.. already.” The dark haired woman looks regretful, “I pushed too hard. Whatever happened has tainted her mind, her memories. Someone or someones must have died in the process.”

Or this nightmare is really that big of a scary thing. Eve is willing to bet after facing the golden eye spirit.. that it was indeed the scariest thing around. “I suppose like that old kook. I do like that Blue Caterpillar though and the cat, so precious don't you think?” Stopping herself from veering too far off topic the woman takes a moment, pulls off the joint before exhaling loudly and a bang on the surface of the bar.

“I'm looking into Praxis, the other thing.. I'm working out the kinks of a plan. Messy things,” plans are that is. Regarding Huruma with a stare, “I'm going to need your help one day and soon Huntress.”

Huruma can feel that regret as it forms inside and manifests on Eve's features. As another drink, half ice, makes its way to her, the dark woman allows the other to speak as long as she needs to. Someone like Eve— Huruma knows that sometimes it is best to lean back and let them think out loud. In the meanwhile, she tucks an ice cube into her mouth. For her it serves as a timer, her moon-like eyes looking on, pupils large in the light of the bar.

Not quite following along on caterpillars and cat, save for the origin material, Huruma is glad when Eve jerks her mental steering wheel back into the correct lane. It’s there that the ice is almost gone, and Huruma wets her lips with the remnant of it as it turns to water. There is a sharp blink at the bang of hand on the bar.

She’s looking into Praxis? That should go well. Huruma seems to jive with Eve hashing at her own plans until she tugs on Huruma’s hem, so to speak.

“Pardon?” The stare is returned with the same. Huruma’s brow knits faintly, and her voice lowers into a smooth drawl. “Have you considered… that perhaps it is best if you cease and desist? Is this really what you want to spend your time on?” So far, it just seems to be stressful. Physically, mentally, emotionally. Personally.

“I didn't stutter!” Eve waves her hand, “I said a choice! You help me or not. But helping me might be a helping to our brothers who don't have our blood. A united front!” And then cease and desist and the physical recoil matches the emotion inside of her.

“You went to the Hounds after the war.. and before that all we both had went through.” The long haired woman looks up towards the ceiling, ashing out her joint. “I've rested enough. And yes, it is.” She can't be more straightforward and Eve muses on that fact as she stretches her arms forward.

“Have I ever sat and watched only?” Well yes and especially when she's too stoned. “Just another thing..” huffing, the air from her mouth making loose strands of hair fly up. “I've gotta do.”

Who don’t have our blood. It’s still in the genes, isn’t it? Huruma’s eyes rest on her hands on the glass, mouth pursing under the face of what Eve says. She has definitely never sat and watched without purpose, anyhow.

“I used to. Sit and watch. Lurk, later on. After I came over here I managed to put my fingers in a hundred pies. Looking back at it, it was— a chaotic life. I liked it, then. It gave me meaning.” Huruma’s admission is not terribly startling, but she says it all with a generous dose of nostalgia. Something sentimental. “Which was misguided. After I started meeting people that meant more to me, I used my time more wisely. Concentrated what efforts that I chose to make. A hundred pies turned into a dozen.” She spins her ice before taking a sip. “Being discerning, Eve, is what makes you think. About what means most. And you are right—”

“We— cannot allow genocide. But how will you rise to the occasion if you do not watch what you do?” Huruma looks to her, eyes drawn to the long, loose hair and her empathic field giving an aura of quiet around both of them. “What use will you be in the ground? Perhaps cease and desist is not the best way to put it—” She can see that much now. “Things need to happen, but at a calculated pace.”

“When the time comes that I am needed I will not disappoint. You know my reputation. Just— do not walk the fool’s path, or we will end up following close behind.” Huruma’s breath leaves her in a small sigh of air, lips rising in a slow smile for Eve; she then picks up the schedule on the counter to look over it more closely, keeping Eve in her peripheral.

“What in the world is a ‘Crow Between Arse’? ‘Hummingbird Riot’? ‘Crutch Monkey’?” The more band names that she reads, the more a chuckle bubbles forth.

“Hmm. ‘Erotic Popsicle’, ‘Leather Compliant’, ‘The Abbey Vine’, that sounds normal, ‘ The Wagon Wheels’ too. Wait, there— ‘Blowfish Fellowship’.” Huruma lets out a snort of laughter. “Eve, these bands are suspect. The solos seem safer. Although… I have never seen the given name ‘Cilantro’.”

At least she is enjoying the brief distraction?

Huruma’s counsel is met with a flurry of movement and Eve is diving forward to hug the taller woman around the middle. The seer breaks out into sobs. Whatever Huruma has said struck a nerve with the wild woman. Brown eyes glisten with tears as she whispers to Huruma’s chest. “Oh thank you thank you thank you. You believe me. You counseled me I feel blessed.”

“My brain.. I.. sometimes lose myself in the thick of it all.” Though she would also argue that she's at her best when she's her craziest. “It's hard to stay grounded, even with Gilly. She's my saint. My guardian angel.” A flutter of fondness and love for her best friend blooms in the field of emotion. A nice change of pace from their earlier discussions.

“I have to admit,” a snicker comes from the precog, “Erotic Popsicle jams hard girlllllll.” Eve’s emotions seem to be leveling out more and she looks up at Huruma with gratitude. “You’ve helped in ways unimaginable, already. Thanks for.. tolerating my crazy pan.”

Huruma’s eyes are still scanning the names on the boxes when the sensation of emotion hits her just a second before Eve thumps around her waist. Her legs uncross out of the way and she puts a steadying hand to the woman’s shoulder as Eve starts to hiccup into her frame. For all that Huruma is hard of muscle under the skin, the warmth of her body makes up for anything lost.

This is new.

Eve’s big doe eyes seem to be getting to her, given the resigned expression on Huruma’s face. She moves the hand at Eve’s shoulder to upper back, palm flattening there.

“I was a lot like you. Everywhere and nowhere. Lost in my head.” Huruma says this first, a hushed return. She smiles thinly at the snickering and reassurance that Erotic Popsicle is worth the trouble. Good to know. “I understand you. It is not so much tolerance as it is… shared experiences. Now, you ought tell me which of these bands are suitable for someone who does not get out much—” The hand at Eve’s back makes a small circle, and she can feel the vibrato of a laugh in Huruma’s chest.

The physical affection coupled with Huruma’s overall presence makes for a tad bit more tears. Sniffing, she nods. “I'm happy to be.. understood.” Eve’s doe eyed stare travels over to the calendar as she leans over with eager anticipation.

There’s a cracking of the negative emotions that have been swirling around her and the seer breathes easy for the rest of the time with her buddy, drinks, smoke, chatter. It's not all the end of the world. And it's taken Huruma to help her with that.

She feels a peace she hasn't felt and isn't sure if it will endure or not but the moment.. it's right.

“I think you should see Cilantro.”

Excellent choice.

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