Participants:
| Scene Title | Silent Sorrow |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | In the dead of night, Kaylee finds a tiny toddler needing someone to hear her and know her pain. |
| Date | November 18, 2010 |
Breath mists in plumes of white in the cold of the night, as Kaylee shuffles down the corridor with only a flashlight illuminating her path. It's eerily silent in the castle, save for the breathing of others and the far off sounds of the highway as the still air carries it far. For Kaylee, it's a quiet punctuated by the murmurs of minds, crammed into one area.
No matter the fact that it's the middle of the night. Things like that don't stop the need for bathroom runs.
The telepath is returning from such a trip, shoulder hunched against the tightness at her side. The knife wound while healed enough for her to get around, still hurts if she moves just right. Passing by the rooms that house the children left orphans in the tragedy of November 8th, something catches her attention.
In the murmuring of sleeping minds, one speaks loudly in distress, there is a sharpness to it that makes it louder then the rest. Then she hears it; the snuffling and tiny gasps of someone crying. Brows furrowing with concern, Kaylee steps into the room and lets her flashlight sweep over the cots of sleep children til she finds a tiny form looking back at her.
It breaks the heart to see such a tiny little girl alone. She couldn't be much older then two, maybe three. Hair fine a silky white blonde, a color that will probably darken into a deeper color when she is older. A round fists lift to rub at a pale eyes ringed in red from crying, before she gives another sniff and takes a shaky breath.
Too little to know too many words, one does stand out in the little girls mind: Momma
There is such a need with that word, it draws Kaylee closer til she can kneel down in front of the child's cot, her own mind reaching out for the little girls. "Shhh," the telepath's voice barely above a whisper, hand smoothing down fine curls, before she moves to wrap the blanket around tiny shoulders when she feels a slight tremble. "It's okay."
No real sound comes from the child's mouth, but still she hears the whine and wailing of her mind, a sorrow unable to be given voice. Images of a dark haired woman, with kind eyes and a gentle smile are at the forefront of the girls mind. Momma. Pale eyes glitter with a fresh tears.
"I know. I miss my momma, too," is gently murmured, thumb brushing against baby soft skin to wipe away a tear that tracks down the toddler's cheek. It's the truth, Kaylee's had five years to get past a lot of her issues with people. Most seemed to petty now, the issues of a younger woman. "It'll be okay, sweetie."
Lower lip trembling, there is a negative way to the toddler's thoughts; dark and scary images flit through her tiny mind of monsters… or that's how the girls sees it… and loud sounds, her momma running with the girl in her arms before they fall.
It hurt.
She was scared.
There are tears in Kaylee's own eyes even as she sees the memory of tiny hands curled into fabric and staring at the silt form of the woman, who was the center of the toddler's world. "Shhh… no need to remember that," words thick with emotion catch in her throat, hands reaching out to drag the tiny form from her cot, ignoring the painful way it pulls at her injury. Cradling the tiny form, Kaylee settles her back against the edge of the cot and readjusts the blankets to keep the baby girl warm. "Not now. Remember the good, that's the best thing. Helps when your heart hurts." A finger lightly taps the girls chest over her heart. She gets a questioning thought in return.
Brows lift at that thought, then the woman smiles, "You want to know why it hurts? That is cause all that love for her is right there, filling it up to bursting, and it wants to show itself to her." A finger brushes away another tear, "That's why you cry, cause there it too much to hold inside." Kaylee has shed her own tears over the years, over missed family, over Joseph…
Reaching into the girls thoughts, Kaylee gently coaxes the good memories to the forefront in an attempt to bury the child's last images of her mother, before someone scooped her up and carried her onto the boat. It calms the little girl some, though she's too young to really understand the idea of death. All she knows is that something was very wrong with momma.
The girl seems to settle, comforted by those much more comforting memories and cradled now in Kaylee's arms. Blue eyes blink soulfully up at the telepath, seeming to ponder this woman. Someone who has given voice to her thoughts and heard what the little girl cannot vocalize. A sad smile is what she gets in return, when Kaylee listens. "That's right, I can hear you. I might not be able to understand you all the time, but I'm trying."
Kaylee's head tilts a little to one side, "So… what do I call you? What's your name?" Light brows dip down in confusion, but the telepath finds her answer with a little bit of looking, not much to go through at this age. "Emily. That's what your momma called you." Pressing a long fingered hand to her own chest, covering the twin crucifix laying there, she offers, "I'm Kaylee."
Lee.
Unable to stifle a soft chuckle, Kaylee nods slowly, "That works."
Emily suddenly yawns, wide and long, with a heavy sigh at the end of it. "I agree, time for sleeping." Lifting the girl off her lap to stand, while Kaylee moves to get to her feet. The toddler moves to climb back up on the cot, only needing some help in the way of push of a hand. Bending down, Kaylee rearranged the thick blanket over the little girl. "Now you get some sleep."
It suddenly dawns on the toddler that this person is leaving her. Alarm flits through her head along with renewed tears, sitting up immediately. Emily doesn't want to be alone, arms lifting to the woman, a worried wail of sound in Kaylee's head confirms this. Uh oh.
Biting her lip, Kaylee glances at the doorway. She can't take the toddler with her, the caretakers would be freaked, but then he sister might wonder why the telepath wasn't in bed. She does know which one might be more forgiving, so it's an easy choice. "Okay." With a sigh, Kaylee settles onto the cot and lays down, arms curling around the child, bringing warmth and a mental ear. "Okay, I'll stay," the words murmured against pale blond curls.
When the morning comes, the caretakers will find Kaylee and the little girl curled up together, sleeping, on the cot. Each finding comfort in the other. The telepath has done one thing most of them cannot, given a voice to one of the mourning.
Given a voice to the silent sorrow suffered by a lonely child.