Participants:
| Scene Title | The Damage Is Done |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Keira reunites — briefly — with her mother. |
| Date | August 10, 2018 |
A Warehouse in the Bronx
Word through the grapevine says that an older woman named Deirdre has been poking around at the Rookery and looking for one Keira Fionn. While this normally wouldn’t gather a lick of interest for any other person, Keira Ryans is unfortunately acutely aware of the fact that her mother is also named Deirdre.
While Keira normally wouldn’t bother with random people searching for her, this is different. This is her shitty, abusive mother. The tattooed thug is certainly okay with the idea not ever seeing the woman ever again, after everything has been said and done — especially after her mother convinced her that her uncle was her father. Unfortunately, she feels the tug of bloodlines — and, she tells herself, she would hate herself if she found out her mom was searching for her because she was dying of whatever, and didn’t take the opportunity to tell her one last time how much she resents the woman for her upbringing.
Which is why Deirdre has been brought to an abandoned building in the Bronx by one of Keira’s men, visibly armed with a handgun — because why not put a little bit of fear into the woman? Keira’s never been too enamored with her mother, and nearly a decade of no contact has made very little difference to the shapeshifter.
In any case, making her sweat is always a welcome idea.
She makes her mother wait, too, pausing outside to lean against the building and slowly smoke a cigarette as she reflects on how much she detests the woman — and also silently dreading the notion of coming face-to-face with her mother after all of these years. It causes an unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach, like a really fucked up, uncomfortable, and unwelcome version of the butterflies she gets when she’s with Caspian.
Unfortunately, the cigarette doesn’t last forever, and Keira can’t delay this moment any longer than she has — not unless she wants to bail on seeing the woman entirely. But that wouldn’t accomplish anything, and Deirdre would still be stalking around, looking for her, and calling attention to both herself and her estranged daughter.
With a dour expression on her face, Keira grinds the butt of her cigarette out with her heel, before she finally makes her way in. The uncomfortable butterflies jump upon seeing her mother — who looks good for a lifelong addict to various substances. The frown etches its way deeper into Keira’s features as she approaches, as her mother turns toward the sound of her boots as they step over the concrete floor.
“Keira.” Deirdre starts, a frown on her face — though her own expression comes from a place of sorrow, rather than a place of anger. Perhaps she wasn’t really sure what to expect — certainly, she wasn’t expecting to find her child less an eye, nor was she expecting her little girl to have all of these big men answering to her. The woman can’t help the blossom of pride that blooms in her chest, undeserved though it may be.
The one-eyed shapeshifter looks her mother up and down as she draws closer, one eyebrow raising over her remaining eye. She doesn’t look like she’s strung out and on drugs. She doesn’t even look like she’s in withdrawal — she looks plump and whole and healthy. That wasn’t something she expected — historically, when her mother has come to see her, it’s always been to ask for more money for the next high.
She’s never actually seen her mother looking healthy.
In a defensive act, Keira shoves her hands into the pockets of her pants, and fixes her mother with a glare. “What the fuck do you want, Deirdre? It’s been at least seven years since I’ve seen your face, and I didn’t really want to break that streak — but then you wouldn’t shut up if I stayed quiet, would you?” Keira frowns, her shoulders tensing up a little as she glowers at the woman.
She wants to say a million things, and ask a million questions, but she really doesn’t feel like her mother should get the chance to explain herself.
Deirdre, in turn, seems to shrink a bit. She’s been sober for years now — since the war broke out, really. “I don’t want anything, Keira.” Her voice carries the gentle tone that Keira always craved as a child, but rarely received — thank in no small part to the drugs that occupied her mind. “I’m sober — been six years since I touched anything, even alcohol. I came here because…because I need to apologize, Keira. For everything.”
Too little too late, surely, but it’s worth a try, right?
Keira’s posture doesn’t relax in the slightest — if nothing else, it becomes even more tense. “Took the war to clean you up, eh?” Keira turns off to the side so her missing eye is facing her mother, reaching into her jacket pocket and pulling out a cigarette and her zippo. She fidgets with the lid of the lighter for a moment, flipping it open and closed as she plans out her next words; then, she lights the cigarette, flipping the lighter closed and tucking it back into her pocket.
Then, she turns back to her mother, glaring at the woman. “I hope you don’t fucking think that showing up here and apologizing after you spent the first thirty-something years of my fucking life being a deadbeat addict who abused the shit out of me is going to change anything, bitch. It’s not.” Keira takes a long drag of her cigarette; if looks could kill, Deirdre would have multiple stab wounds right about now.
It’s impossible for those words to not sting just a little, deserved though they may be. Deirdre reels for a moment, raising her brown eyes up toward the ceiling, her teeth knitting at her lower lip as she internalizes that remark. “It’s only what I deserve,” she replies, turning her gaze back down to her daughter. “I don’t expect you to ever forgive me. Not after everything that’s happened over the years.”
The older woman lets her gaze cast down to the ground, a frown on her face. “You’re right to be mad. It took me being forced to stop for me to finally stop. I got clean, went up to Canada, and got into real estate work. I’m in Rochester now…I’m doing good now. It’s not easy, but…I won’t touch anything again. I won’t fall back into the traps again.”
Keira goes silent at the woman’s explanation, glaring at her as she smokes her cigarette. The silence continues well beyond the end of her mother’s words, as well, that dark glare on the woman’s face as she stares her mother down. “That’s not good enough. Nothing ever will be good enough.”
She turns away, taking a few steps away from Deirdre, the cigarette dangling from the corner of her lips. She takes it between her thumb and forefinger, staring angrily at the lit ember at the end. “You abused me as a kid…you used me to get your next fucking fix, and kept sending your fucking dealers my way to pay your debts. And I fucking did, every time, even though you deserved to get the shit beat out of you. And when I finally got you to tell me about my fucking dad, you were so fucked up that you gave me a picture of my uncle instead. I only know what my dad looks like because my uncle is actually a decent fucking person, and is the first person who has really treated me like fucking family since grandpa died.”
She turns, suddenly advancing on the woman. “You fucking hid it from me that I had a big brother, from the same fucking dad. He’s the second person who has treated me like family. Unlike you. You gave him up for adoption — he had it way better than I ever did.” She grits her teeth, leaning back and taking a long drag from her cigarette, inhaling the smoke as she casts the cigarette away.
Then, slowly, she blows the smoke into her mother’s face. “I’m doing fine without you, bitch.” She looks her mother straight in the eye, fixing her with the most venomous look she can manage with only one eye. “I made my peace with the kind of person you are.”
She shakes her head. “After thirty-five years, no amount of apologizing is going to make a difference. You’ve done all the damage you’re going to do to me, and I’m not going to let you back in so you can do more.” Keira turns away, then, her back to Deirdre as she makes her way toward the door. She pauses, gesturing to one of the guards and whispering something in his ear; with a final glare cast over her shoulder, she’s then gone, not giving her mother a chance to respond.
Deirdre’s face falls — she expected this, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear, especially when spoken with that vicious tone her daughter just used. She closes her eyes as her child walks away, her arms unconsciously rising to hug herself. She remains silent as the guards escort her back to where they picked her up, ready to return to Rochester and her new life there — her life that still remains devoid of any of her children.
It is her penance, and it is one she is willing to suffer — even though she wishes she didn’t have to.