Participants:
| Scene Title | Sungura |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Huruma comes upon Tania in the gardens and comforts her, in her own way. |
| Date | August 12, 2011 |
She didn't want to get up and out of bed, really. She didn't want to eat or talk or look at people. And it was them bothering her the morning after than got her to leave to pace around the gardens. There's been a lot of sitting, all things considered, but there's definitely some pacing. Like a caged animal.
Except where some people resemble the caged tiger, she's more of a caged… house cat.
Tania is on a bench at the moment, not crying at the moment, but rather, staring ahead, a blank expression wrapped around loss and guilt and anger like a dam holding everything back. She's given them enough of a show, perhaps.
Being an empath has its ups, and its downs, and its in-betweens. Some of the hardest of hazards are of knowing what someone feels before you even know what is wrong; you can choose to leave it, for the sake of personal sanity, or you may find your own mix of curiosity in it, and deign to find out why. More often than not, Huruma is of the latter build. Knowing is half the battle. Finding the source is the other, even if you hate them, or hardly know them. Human emotions are powerful, and addictive.
For someone in Tania's condition, both emotional and not, this alone time, sitting in the garden to recuperate, is essential.
This time, the dark woman does not stride about as if she owned the building; she finds the time and care in slowly approaching around the curve of the garden path, towards the slip of a girl- she is pale, and tiny, a sandcat in the shadow of a shetani. Huruma says nothing, this time, distinctly different from the first encounter. Instead, she fixes her gaze on the girl, as if studying her features closely. In actuality, she is examining her state, with a surgeon's precision. Tania's emotions feel familiar, in some way- a gritty texture here, a burning there, a hollow patch spackled through- a wall, building itself brick by brick.
And Tania doesn't notice her approach, at first; she just sits there thinking whatever darkness is in her mind at the moment. Her foot tips up onto the ball, using it as a pivot point to turn inward, and outward like she were snuffing a cigarette on the ground in painstakingly slow motion. It's a very mild outward expression, but then that's typical of this girl in general. She's looks… sick. Pale. Nauseous, maybe. But not in and physical distress, at least.
It's that emotional side that's more telling. The way sorrow and embarrassment twine up together, how the anger's there, but futilely so. She's always been a bit hopeless in here, but now she's upset about it. Whatever's happen, it's kicked her into a depression and riled her up all at once.
Huruma crosses around the back of the bench, rather than the front. She comes out on the other side, slipping sidelong and down onto the seat beside Tania, as graceful as any large, practiced bird might. It takes Huruma some time to consider what is inside Tania's mind even before she decides to sit down- the familiarity of it bothers her, and only when she is seated does it come to her more clearly. But is it the same? There's no way to tell, with just her ability.
"You are unwell, sungura." Almost inquiry, almost not. A statement, simple, and in Huruma's mostly unfamiliar dark voice. "I can see it on you, as clear as moonlight."
Though Huruma hesitates to move any closer than the other part of the bench, her watchfulness from that ebony face belies the short distance well enough.
Tania starts a bit at Huruma's voice, and she blinks as she looks over her way. "I am sick," she says, her accent a little thicker today and her voice a bit raw. But she clears her throat and tries again, a little clearer. "Be careful, I would not want to give it to you."
It's a little bitter, that statement. Just a little.
"But I am often unwell, it is not so unusual." But the how and the why, those are the unusual parts. She takes a moment to look around, just seeing who is around before she says in a quieter voice, "There is a doctor here, a new one, she seems to have a mind to help."
Huruma considers the air near Tania's head when she explains 'sick', at first. She knows that it is not all, of course, but pressing too hard may be unwise. Other than them, there are a couple guards at the far end of the gardens, but only to watch from afar, not to eavesdrop. Still, it is best to be hushed, and Huruma can sense that much as well.
Full lips tighten at the edges, and she shifts in her seat, finding the teenager's face again. "Sick or not, I have felt th'same as you, b'fore. A …long time ago." She leans closer, obviously not too worried. There is far less physical weakness in her than tiny Tania possesses. Perhaps that is why Huruma named her sungura- rabbit.
"How …fortunate, that she is here. Th'timing, too." Suspicious? A little. "But if she has a mind of that sort… well. I shall not push her away."
It's at those words that Tania looks sharply over in Huruma's direction. It's her turn to look the woman over, as if trying to read what she knows. "It… it is not a good feeling," she speaks her understatement softly before turning her gaze to her lap, where her fingers tangle with each other in a nervous fidget. She's trying not to start crying, which she accomplishes with a heavy sniff as she straightens up again. Brave face.
"I thought the same, about her. She said many of the right things." Which is why Tania is suspicious, as it turns out. "But I do believe she will help. Price, she is Doctor Price."
Huruma can feel that suspicion, as present as the feelings of the others. Dubiousness feels light, and hesitant.
"I hope that if she wishes to help, she allows me to assist her." Who couldn't use a capable person, in this kind of place? Unless everything has been- ah- Huruma-proofed, that is. "I am not sure how our experiences differ, and where they are th'same…" The dark woman begins, careful in her words. Her voice finds a middle ground, between her relaxed tone and a more pedagogical one. "I am not a telepath, however, so I cannot tell. I am an empath. Do you know what that is, Tania?"
"It means you can feel what others feel," Tania is hazarding a guess, as she's never met one before, but she's sure enough not to turn it into a question. She takes a moment there, a shoulder rolling uncomfortably before she corrects her posture. "There was a baby," is what she opts to say to explain. Was serving to explain her current situation. "And I have been having these dreams. And I am here instead of home." So, she's not entirely joyful, at present.
Huruma gives her a nod, apparently satisfied with the girl not knowing that she can also influence them. Not yet, anyhow. Someday, maybe. She listens, after, about the past-tense, and of the dreams. This gets a moment of further searching by Huruma's eyes.
"A baby." One cannot say that Huruma's life is not suddenly full of those, even if some are not technically twinkles in their parents eyes, as of yet. "You have my condolences." Though she does not know whose it was, why it died, or anything to do with any incidents, Huruma still feels compelled to say it. Specifics elude her, fortunately. "I have been dreaming as well. It allows me to escape this place, for a time." Hopefully Tania can see it that way, dreamwalkers or not.
The condolences make Tania laugh. It's quiet and brief and certainly not amused in any way, but the girl just doesn't know how to handle such a situation. There's a rush of guilt and anger, though, and she doesn't seem to bother with trying to control her emotions within, even with an empath sitting there.
"They have been as you say. An escape. Mostly I dream of better things than this place." A future where she's living a fairly normal existence, with it's ups and downs, is a far better place. But it doesn't seem particularly comforting at the moment. "But that is not so hard to do, yes?"
"I take it that you are jaded on th'matter." Huruma remarks, simply, when Tania's bitterness shows through in that quiet laugh. She folds her long arms across her stomach, unconsciously guarded. "As was I, concerning my children."
"It is not hard at all, no." It is Huruma's turn to laugh quietly, and she gives Tania a short smile. "They try so hard t'make this livable. But it is not grass, nor sun, nor rain, nor dirt. I would much rather be back where I was. Such is th'life of those that …choose t'break in, I suppose."
"Very." The girl doesn't lie, either. She is, in fact, very jaded about it all. But she doesn't elaborate as to why, particularly. When she can think of it without feeling overwhelmed, perhaps then she'll be able to articulate it properly and without blubbering. She never counted herself a proud creature, but she has very little control of her dignity at present, so she'll keep it when she can manage.
"I suppose, as prisons go, it is a pretty one. But I would rather the cold cell and the concrete floor to this. These are very bad people." There's even a glare sent out toward the garden there, as if someone might happen by she can glower at. They don't, of course, beyond Huruma's guards, but she'll glare anyhow.
"That is th'attitude I like to see." Huruma practically coos this to her. "When it comes time to leave this place, sungura, I will make every effort to see that you accompany me." Reassuring, and a little not so much, at the same time. When Huruma takes a shine to someone though, do they ever tell her 'no'? There is a standing streak of negatives in that department.
"May I sit with you, for a time? I learned farr too late that it is not best t'be alone."
"Thank you. I will do the same, if the opportunity comes up." Not that she's very good at breaking out, but she still does hold a thread of hope and… well, fear, that her brother will try something stupid and reckless and wonderful to try to get her out. Tania looks up at her, then down at the bench before she nods. "Please. The garden is not good company itself." She doesn't smile, but she is sincere all the same.