Participants:
| Scene Title | The World In Solemn Stillness |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Liz and Abby meet up in the monastary after Liz is show to her new lodgings which happen to be the same small room that Abby's occupied. |
| Date | December 16, 2009 |
svyato-monastery - Monks Cell
A simple cell, six feet squared and fit for a monk. If you were a monk. The air is cool, not overtly uncomfortably so if you were dressed for cool climes inside a home. A window looks out onto a long drop and pastoral snow covered view. Inside the cell, the carved platform that's part of the wall with wood slats covering it to make it more hospitable is occupied by someone familiar to Liz.
Abigail is reclined on her side, jacket bunched up to pillow a swollen and painful looking ankle, the blanket overtop her to trap and keep heat. Breakfast has come and gone, consumed and the stone that was her ankle has long since worn off and gave way from feeling nothing, to feeling everything again. Makes the condition of her ankle that much more heightened in her mind thanks to Anya's possibly kind act. She's a big ol ball of hurt.
It's a little early, or possibly late, for dinner to be served - hooray, likely to be more stew - and Abigail startles from out of her sleep when the door is opened and Liz is unceremoniously pushed into the small room to greet her new roommate. Or as some see it, an old familiar one. "Liz?" Disbelief tinges her voice, bruising rampant up the one side of her face, a few days old and ready to take on a more green shade soon. Bleary blue eyes regard the person just entering the cell with pursed lips and a hard swallow and it's quickly followed by a closing her her eyes. "Don't know why you chose her, but you can go away"
As she gets shoved into the room, Elisabeth is at least dressed for the weather in boots, thermal undies, heavy pants and coat. The sight of Abby with her myriad bruises brings the blonde up short. And she stares. "Oh, Abby." A flood of tears is ruthlessly suppressed and Elisabeth moves toward the younger woman. "Here, sweetheart." She strips off her heavy coat to put that on top of Abby too — her thermals and the heavy sweater layer she has under the coat will keep her for a time. Laying it over Abby's blanket for extra warmth, careful not to put her hands on Abby yet. "Okay… so tell me what it'd take to convince you that I'm really here. Stupid as that is." The fact that she's here at all, she means.
There's cringing as the jacket is laid over her, another layer for warmth and it's the kindness that's freaking her out. Because that's to be expected from Liz. That's Liz. The brunette doesn't make a move to shove off the jacket, remaining under he blanket that actually does a good job of keeping her warm enough in the room.
"I don't know what it would take. You're just Zhukovsky, playing with me. Your just someone else, made up to look like her" Though, Liz is speaking English so, that's one up for her. But then again, Zhukosvky speaks English. The Rusalka spoke English.
Understanding that Abby's been messed with, Elisabeth considers. There are things that only she and Abby would know that Zhukovsky most likely wouldn't be bothered to dig through her brain for minutiae to find out about. "It's hard to believe that it's almost Christmas. Again," she says quietly as she moves to sit near Abby's feet. She rests her elbows on her upraised knees, her head back against the wall. "Hardly seems possible that Conrad's only been dead less than a year. Every once in a while, Richard does something that reminds me of him, you know. I think…. maybe that's why I fell so hard for him. I loved Con, too. I didn't really realize it until he was gone. Remember Christmas dinner last year? I think that might have been the first time I ever heard you cuss, when you called Con an 'ass' at the table."
"Pottymouth"
It comes from Abigail's lips before she can stop it before she continues.
"I miss him"Eyelids crack open to look down at Liz on the ground. She'd been told Zhukosvkey pulls from happy times, and fears, telepathically of sorts. Creates illusion. "The dreamer's name?" Hokuto wasn't a happy memory, or a bad one. Just a friend, only a friend and he wouldn't pluck that from her head.
There's a soft laugh and Liz whispers, "Remind me to kick Hokuto in the butt when we get home, okay?" She rolls her head on the wall and looks at Abby. "Or maybe just to tell her thanks… not sure which way I ought to go on that one."
"We ever get home" Abby murmurs, looking from Elisabeth to the door then back. "Ethan, is working for them" She still won't talk, about things sensitive wise, just in case this is a really really good illusion of Liz. "He did this. My ankles broken, I don't think i'm bleeding inside or I'd have died by now. Think I might loose a few back teeth" Rattling off inventory for Elisabeth and or the illusion. "How are the others?"
"Yeah," Elisabeth says softly. "So I gathered when he helped round us up for Zhukovsky." Although Teo did tell her that Ethan was working on 'old contacts'. She doesn't want to say that aloud in here, though. She'll have words with Teo when he next visits her head. She's more concerned about Abby's physical state right now — it will complicate any escape plans. "Everyone's in good shape," she says finally, quietly. "It would have been stupid to try to fight them with where we were grabbed. Quarters were too tight." Besides, we wanted the 'in'.
"Who was grabbed?" Liz for sure, who else? Cat? Teo? Francois? "Did you find Robert?" There's a sniffle from beneath the blanket, Abigail swallowing hard again. "I haven't told them anything. Not that I know anything. I tried to keep them from killing Robert, they had a gun to his head. I didn't want to have to explain to Mr. Linderman why his PR rep died in Russia." There's the real Abby, babbling Abby. Comfortable enough with herself to think this is real Liz. "Who wants to have to explain that to a man who controls a big chunk of the backroom and lack deals in Manhattan. WHo can get guns through airport security" Not her. Not her at all.
Without lifting her head from the wall, Liz replies softly, "Teo and Francois." It leaves Cat and Caliban out there still. "Robert's fine." She shoves a hand through her hair and shifts closer to Abby, enclosing them in a silence bubble. Not that anyone but someone monitoring the room would notice — it's damn silent in here already. "Now we can talk freely," she murmurs. Cat managed to get a status report through to Autumn. I gather things aren't going too great in other locales either. They've lost contact with the Argentina team, and the Madagascar team looks like they've been beat to hell and back and they've had some of their people taken too." She shakes her head. "Dreyfus came through with some intel about who may have the missile and where, but I'm not sure it'll do us a lot of good. It's mobile. And who knows if the countdown's begun. Richard thought they'd detonate on the twelfth. That didn't happen, so……. I dont' know if that means the group in Argentina found the damn thing and neutralized it and we'll never have a clue or what." She grins. "There's that little streak of optimism I keep evidencing at weird moments."
The lack of any noises that are a constant in the daily life here in the monastary and it's Vanguard inhabitants is gone and there's a narrowing of Abby's eyes. "Liz?" True belief now, especially after the woman starts rattling off. Could Zhukovsky do that? Imitate someone's ability so well. She keeps wavering back and forth ebtween belief and disbelief that the woman in her cell is liz, because she's then talking about the other teams, about the missile, General Autumn. The brunette just listens, quietly, watching the audiokinetic. "I'm sorry. It's hard to believe it's you. I don't know what to say to what you jsut told me and I wish you hadn't, because if you have…" Abby's not the best person to be telling stuff too and of the four of them here now, she really is probably the first to break. There's no mention of Ethan and his note, nor is she showing it.
There's a faint shrug from Elisabeth and she looks at the young brunette with a haunted look. "You need to know what's happening. And considering that nothing I've told you in terms of names, teams, or where they are is anything Ethan doesn't already know — outside the fact that Dreyfus came through with intel. I don't think he knows THAT part — I don't see it as a risk. Hell, Abby…. I know I've made you feel like you're not to be trusted, but I haven't ever meant it the way it may have seemed. I always think that if you don't HAVE intel, people won't come after you. But … with you, that's almost never the truth." She smiles a little.
"It's not always what I know but who I know" But Liz is right. Very right. What she just gave her, Ethan could have told Zhukovsky. Abigail closes her eyes again breathing out softly. "They're going to bring dinner soon. I think. Once it hits dark, they usually come. Hot stew and bread. Mornings is warm oatmeal just after the sun has risen, no lunch. Bucket is to use for your necessities. They haven't taken me out for showers."
"Only Orlova has visited. This morning. She turned my ankle to stone, I think to give me some relief from it. Only seems to make it hurt worse now that it's changed back. She doesn't seem to need to touch you to make it turn" It's back to being flesh and blood now, mottled and swollen. "I don't think I'm walking on it any time soon Liz. It gets a little cold at night in here, but if they're keeping you in here it should be more bearable with shared heat"
As she listens to the young woman talk, Elisabeth is thinking hard. She murmurs softly, "We'll work it out." Their 'plan' was a bit dicey to begin with, but hey… it was all they had. So ultimately, the hope here is that between their own actions and those of Felix and Cat and — dear God, dare we actually say it, Ethan Holden? — we'll escape intact. And maybe, just maybe, kill that insane fucker Zhukovsky too. Since we happen to be here anyway and it clearly needs doing. "We'll be okay," she says softly. "It's after dark now, but we may have interrupted their schedule with our arrival. I'll keep that information about Orlova in mind." She smiles just a little. "Now is about the time I really want Gillian. Turning the whole goddamn lot of them into mist sounds really appealing."
"Mist" That's a new one. "Right now… I wish… I wish I had Flint" That's what she wishes. Russia. She's never coming back here again. They'll have to drag her kicking and screaming. "I haven't seen my bag, so I don't have any pills to share with you. Give it a couple days, you'll hit withdrawl" She is. The crying jag is going to be around the corner. "Get your jacket Liz, I'm warm. Can you.. just sing? It'll take my mind off stuff"
Oh, now there is a comforting thought. "Fuck," Elisabeth murmurs softly. She reaches out and retrieves her jacket, snugging in to sit — very carefully! — closer to Abby. The request sort of surprises her, bringing a tint of color to her face. And she pauses for a moment, her mind slipping through songs that she has sung in the past, songs that might take Abby's mind from things, and without really choosing in a conscious way, Liz shifts just a bit to sit up straighter, her jacket in her lap.
"It came upon a midnight clear, that glorious song of old
From angels bending near the earth, to touch their harps of gold:
Peace on Earth, Goodwill to men, From Heaven's all-gracious King!
The world in solemn stillness lay to hear the angels sing… "