originallutece | ic contact;

The handy thing about tea is that it's quite portable in the right container.

[ meaning he will be right there. well, not right there - it's a bit of a walk from his apartment, after all. but after some fifteen minutes, there's a knock on her door. ]

Come in.

[On the one hand: it could be a lot worse. She isn't missing any limbs or vital organs. Her eyes are in place; her face is clear. On the other hand . . . there's bandages wrapped around her from hips to chest, and an awful lot of bruises around her face and wrists. The smell of blood is thick in the air, though her bandages are mercifully clean.]

You know, I rather like having everyone come to me. It's quite convenient.

[She says it with a little smile (fragile, unfocused, shattered, strained), like that will really distract him, and shifts to make room on the bed.]

[ thomas has plenty of reasons to dislike hospitals and the smell of blood and he does rather dislike both, but there's nothing to be done about it. at least this is not so like the field hospitals that he is reminded of his time after the war viscerally.

she doesn't look great, but then he could look worse. he takes in the bruises and bandages with one quick glance and sits on the foot of the bed where she's made room for him, readying the tea. no use in drawing attention to how frail her smile is. ]

I'd imagine that you would, yes.

[ he hands her a cup. his expression is serious when he says - ] Would you like to talk about it? [ he lifts a hand to forestall her answer for a moment. ] If the answer is no now, I won't ask again, but please know that the offer will remain standing.

[ after the war, he hadn't wanted to talk about what had happened. ]

[A wave of warmth washes through her, and she makes a note to tell Thomas later how grateful she is that he'd said that. It's caring and distant all at once, and thus perfectly suited for her.

She won't pour her heart out. She suspects she can't, not really. But she can tell him some things. Rosalind's fingers tighten around the cup, and she glances down at it for a long few seconds, looking at her reflection there. Finally, quietly:]

. . . it was primarily a psychological experiment at first. Sleep deprivation, coupled with a trigger. I suppose they wanted to see how fast we'd turn on one another, and what we'd do when we did.

They questioned us as well. For me, it was about the Institute. The leadership, the inner workings, so on and so forth. And though they got their answers, they made certain they were truthful.

[That's all true. It's also very impersonal, entirely divorced from herself. Rosalind glances away for a few seconds, then back towards him.]

. . . tell me something. In your studies, have you ever, ah-- have you ever encountered creatures that could travel through dreams?

[She hates how that sounds. She hates that it sounds so childish, like a girl frightened by a nightmare. But Rosalind's got stitches all down her back thanks to something from a dream.]

[ thomas sips his tea, careful not to let his anger or disgust — not at her, of course not — show on his face or in how tightly he grips his tea cup, or the lines of his shoulders. this is not about him, after all.

what sort of trigger? he wants to ask, but she continues and he thinks back to all the books in the libraries of the folly, all the accounts of magical events and creatures. ]

Not personally, but I am aware of the existence of such creatures, yes. [ he says after a moment, tone measured. ]

Tell me of them.

[She draws her legs up, her free arm wrapping around her knees to draw them in close. It's a childish gesture, one that screams of discomfort and need, but Rosalind is past the point of caring.]

Would they attack?

Most of them, certainly.

[ he doesn't comment. of course he doesn't. who is he to begrudge her whatever comfort she can find? ]

As far as I remember, they feed that way.

And were they able to be tamed, or entirely wild?

[She'll explain in a moment, but it's been a week since anyone answered her questions.]

I'd say tamed is the wrong word. Some could be reasoned with, I believe. Others only contained.

[ he doesn't even remember the names of all those who could enter dreams. he wishes he had more specific things to tell her, but without a trip to the library -- without a trip to the library, he doesn't, and the library is gone, swallowed by the storm like the rest of the folly. ]

Mm.

[She trusts he's telling her all he remembers, but it isn't much. Still, it's proof that whatever had been tormenting them, it hadn't been the byproduct of sleep deprivation and a few clever blades. She'd wondered, towards the end. She'd doubted everything she'd seen towards the end, and part of her had wondered if they'd all simply shared a mass hallucination . . . but no.]

There was . . . I suppose you'd call it a bird, but unlike any bird I've ever seen. Massive. Bloodthirsty. We couldn't even see it most of the time, it was pitch black, but-- well. It could see us, I suppose. I suppose it hardly matters; it's not as if it was required to follow any kind of logic.

It, ah . . . . it appeared within our dreams, you see. And it would attack. That's all it was intent on doing, attacking and tearing us apart. There's some who lost limbs, or fingers . . . I suppose I was lucky.

[She hesitates, then shifts slightly, showing off her back. There's bandages all up it, spotted with browned, dried blood.]

It could have severed my spine. It's a miracle it hadn't, frankly. But I think I'll always have a particularly interesting set of scars to show off.

[She isn't looking at him, and so she adds softly:]

I'm glad you've heard of something like this.

[ it isn't much, no. it's been a century since he sat on a school bench and learned about magical creatures. he's learned a great deal about a great many of them since and he's done a fair amount of research in the libraries, but he hasn't encountered ones like she's describing himself, so there'd been no reason for research. all that's left are vague memories of his time in school. ]

I'm glad to hear that it didn't manage that.

[ glad to see it, too.

he lifts a hand, touching her shoulder briefly. ] I'm sorry I don't have more to tell you. But I'd say whatever it was precisely, it was very real indeed.

That's more of an assurance than you'd think.

[Of course it was real. Of course it was, she and all the other prisoners have the scars to prove it. But at the same time . . . what kind of creature travels through dreams? What on earth kind of animal could possibly do harm to them through their minds?

And yet magic makes it so.]

. . . I'm all right, you know. Or I'll be all right, anyway. You don't have to worry.

If you don't mind, [ thomas offers her a slight smile, clasping his hands together in front of his body. ] I'll worry until you're entirely all right.

Ah.

[A soft statement, and she glances down for a moment. Ah, and she really has no idea what to say to that, how to successfully articulate that it means a great deal to her without being soppy.]

. . . well. I suppose I can't stop you.

[She glances up back at him.]

. . . tell me what you've been up to.

[Distract me.]

[ indeed: she cannot stop him. he nods, briefly holding her gaze before he lets the moment pass. ]

Do you know Eggsy Unwin?

[ he doesn’t wait for a n answer before continuing. ] I’ve been watching his dog.

I'm very familiar with him.

[And his dog, though it's clear Thomas has spent a great deal more time with him.]

Has he been that unable to watch after him?

[ "very familiar". thomas lifts an eyebrow for a moment, but then continues - ]

I think initially, he simply meant for JB not to get in the way when he went off on a rescue mission.

[She returns his look, but doesn't elaborate, not yet.]

And now? Have you become a proper uncle to him?

Perhaps an uncle twice removed.

[ the thought earns a smile. ]

Eggsy was hurt during the rescue operation, so I've been watching the dog a little longer.

That's kind of you. Though I didn't realize he was that injured. Was there more beyond his arm?

Mostly the arm.

[ both arms, really, but one worse than the other. but thomas will discuss eggsy's injuries no more than he would discuss rosalind's with someone else. ]

ic contact;

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject