[Thank goodness for wings. Joan isn't sure she'd be able to handle public transit right now. Everything seems sharper and richer. Just the thought of being surrounded by humans makes her hands shake a little.
Soon enough, she's knocking on the door of Athena's house, hands twisting together in a rare show of nervousness.]
[The smile Athena gives Joan when she opens the door is an uncertain one. It’s always been her habit to check for the identity of her visitors through the door’s peephole, and this time had been no different. Except while she had expected to see Joan, she hadn’t expected her to look so shaken.
Whatever Joan’s about to tell her, Athena gets the feeling that it’s something she’d rather not say out in the open, and so she takes a step to the side to allow her to enter the house.]
Thanks. [Athena closes the door behind them and follows Joan into the house. It’s a nicely built place, though sparsely furnished since all of Athena’s and Tim’s belongings were brought over from the apartment.
An old couch, an armchair, and a TV make up the furnishings of the main room. There’s a little nest of blankets piled onto the couch -- Athena’s found that the cold of death tends to linger, even after being alive for a couple of days. Her wings fold snugly against her back and she sits down, giving Joan a small nod to do the same.]
So… [Athena tries to keep her tone casual, despite the tension she can sense from Joan.] There was something you wanted to tell me?
[Joan perches on the edge of the couch besides Athena, wings drawn around her.]
I... This is difficult to say. Your death affected me deeply.
[She takes a steadying breath, remembering the pit in her stomach when she'd heard the news, the swooping sensation that had felt like all the worst parts of falling.]
[Athena blinks, unsure of what to say. After a few moments, she gathers her words and tentatively speaks.] I’m… sorry. It must have been hard to hear. But I didn’t know how long I’d be out. You probably would have figured it out anyways.
[She gets the feeling that there’s a second part to what Joan wants to say, but she’s hesitant to press her. For one, Joan seems pretty reluctant herself and secondly, Athena gets the feeling that it’s not going to be something that’s easy to hear.]
I’m back now, though. And I don’t plan on leaving again anytime soon.
[There’s a pause as she thinks and remembers their conversation on the network. The one where she had told Joan that she wouldn’t let her lose control. If Joan is here to tell her something about that… Her eyes meet Joan’s, the beginning of understanding dawning in her expression.]
[On some level, Athena knew it was coming. Doesn’t make hearing the words any easier. She’d let her own overconfidence get the better of her, letting her guard down in a fight she should have been prepared for. And her friend had suffered for it.]
It’s not your fault. I told you I’d be there to help you, and I wasn’t. If anyone broke their promise, it was me. [She shakes her head, the anger clear in her voice.] I should have--
[And at this she stops, caught off guard by the sudden taste of blood in her mouth. She touches a hand to her lips and is suddenly hit with a searing, visceral pain she’s only ever felt during her changes. One hand clamps over her mouth out of instinct, while the other reaches for Joan.
She doesn’t know what’s happening. But some small part of her in the back of her mind knows it’s retribution.]
[Athena keeps a hand closed over her mouth, gritting her teeth until she feels the pain pass. When she pulls her hand away, it’s violet with her blood. She realizes her other hand is white-knuckled around Joan’s own and she slowly loosens her grip.]
I… don’t know. [Was it a change? There is fog out after all. But when she brings her hand back to her mouth, she can’t feel anything that different. Except...]
There’s a scar. [She traces it with her fingers and finds that it’s actually many small scars, criss-crossing her lips as if sewn there. She looks at Joan, confusion written into her expression.]
I don’t understand. [Why would the fog give her scars? And why now?]
[Athena wipes away the blood at her mouth, feeling the thin traceries of scar tissue against the back of her hand.]
If it’s magic, then who cast it? [Could it be some strange after-effect of dying? If so, why had it taken so long to manifest? She stills as Joan draws closer.] Does it look like anything? [Maybe there will be some sort of clue in the scar’s appearance.]
Stitching? [Like someone’s sewn her mouth shut? What does that mean? Was it a warning to keep quiet about something? And if so, who was responsible?
It doesn’t feel like a warning though. It feels like a punishment.]
Why would someone cast that? [She tries to think of anyone she’s wronged recently. She had engaged in multiple skirmishes during the Harvest Festival, but all of her opponents were fighting out of compulsion, not malice. There were those who had expressed disgust and even threats when told of her intention to hypnotize those who would not feed themselves, but then why not strike sooner?
And of course, she had also wronged Joan by not keeping her promise. But Joan clearly didn’t come here seeking revenge. So what could be the cause?]
Maybe… [She doesn’t know why scars would be their own change, but it’s just as likely as anything else given the nature of this place. The only benefit she can see at the moment is that the mystery of it is at least some form of distraction for Joan.
She feels a twinge of bashfulness at the prospect of Joan touching the scars, but she pushes it away. Joan’s a trained medic after all.]
[Joan presses gentle fingers to the marks left on Athena's lips, frowning in concentration. Wounds like this should still be bleeding, or at least a little raw and instead...]
These look old. Like they've been here for awhile. But we both know that's not possible.
[She can feel Joan’s fingers brush against her lips, but the sensation over the scars is dulled. They feel like old scars too, not a wound she had received only seconds earlier.
She pulls away from Joan’s touch.] This doesn’t make any sense… Have you seen anyone with scars like these before? In Ryslig or in… [She mentally grasps for the name.] New York?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
<JWatson>
I'm so glad to hear you're back. I worried.
<Xx_AVENGING_GLADIATRIX_xX>
It shouldn’t have happened. Got overconfident fighting at the Harvest Festival.
Won’t happen again. Hopefully.
<JWatson>
I have something I need to tell you. In person, preferably.
<Xx_AVENGING_GLADIATRIX_xX>
Can you come out to Sanctuary?
I’d offer to visit at your apartment, but
Post-death hangover, for lack of a better term.
<JWatson>
action;
Soon enough, she's knocking on the door of Athena's house, hands twisting together in a rare show of nervousness.]
no subject
Whatever Joan’s about to tell her, Athena gets the feeling that it’s something she’d rather not say out in the open, and so she takes a step to the side to allow her to enter the house.]
Come in.
no subject
Thanks. Um, nice place. Cozy.
[It doesn't feel right to just confess right off the bat.]
no subject
An old couch, an armchair, and a TV make up the furnishings of the main room. There’s a little nest of blankets piled onto the couch -- Athena’s found that the cold of death tends to linger, even after being alive for a couple of days. Her wings fold snugly against her back and she sits down, giving Joan a small nod to do the same.]
So… [Athena tries to keep her tone casual, despite the tension she can sense from Joan.] There was something you wanted to tell me?
no subject
I... This is difficult to say. Your death affected me deeply.
[She takes a steadying breath, remembering the pit in her stomach when she'd heard the news, the swooping sensation that had felt like all the worst parts of falling.]
no subject
[She gets the feeling that there’s a second part to what Joan wants to say, but she’s hesitant to press her. For one, Joan seems pretty reluctant herself and secondly, Athena gets the feeling that it’s not going to be something that’s easy to hear.]
I’m back now, though. And I don’t plan on leaving again anytime soon.
no subject
[The words are getting harder and harder for her to say. She can't quite meet Athena's eyes.]
no subject
Yes. I do.
no subject
[Here, Joan puts her face in her hands, trying to hide from the truth.]
no subject
It’s not your fault. I told you I’d be there to help you, and I wasn’t. If anyone broke their promise, it was me. [She shakes her head, the anger clear in her voice.] I should have--
[And at this she stops, caught off guard by the sudden taste of blood in her mouth. She touches a hand to her lips and is suddenly hit with a searing, visceral pain she’s only ever felt during her changes. One hand clamps over her mouth out of instinct, while the other reaches for Joan.
She doesn’t know what’s happening. But some small part of her in the back of her mind knows it’s retribution.]
no subject
Athena! What's wrong?
no subject
I… don’t know. [Was it a change? There is fog out after all. But when she brings her hand back to her mouth, she can’t feel anything that different. Except...]
There’s a scar. [She traces it with her fingers and finds that it’s actually many small scars, criss-crossing her lips as if sewn there. She looks at Joan, confusion written into her expression.]
I don’t understand. [Why would the fog give her scars? And why now?]
no subject
[Nothing in her medical knowledge has an explanation for this. Joan goes to lean in closer in order to examine Athena more thoroughly.]
no subject
If it’s magic, then who cast it? [Could it be some strange after-effect of dying? If so, why had it taken so long to manifest? She stills as Joan draws closer.] Does it look like anything? [Maybe there will be some sort of clue in the scar’s appearance.]
no subject
Stitching. It looks like stitching.
no subject
It doesn’t feel like a warning though. It feels like a punishment.]
Why would someone cast that? [She tries to think of anyone she’s wronged recently. She had engaged in multiple skirmishes during the Harvest Festival, but all of her opponents were fighting out of compulsion, not malice. There were those who had expressed disgust and even threats when told of her intention to hypnotize those who would not feed themselves, but then why not strike sooner?
And of course, she had also wronged Joan by not keeping her promise. But Joan clearly didn’t come here seeking revenge. So what could be the cause?]
no subject
[Joan isn't so sure that someone's behind this latest bit of mischief. Simply being in Ryslig seems to invite trouble.
She moves to touch the scars before pausing.]
May I?
no subject
She feels a twinge of bashfulness at the prospect of Joan touching the scars, but she pushes it away. Joan’s a trained medic after all.]
Go ahead.
no subject
These look old. Like they've been here for awhile. But we both know that's not possible.
no subject
She pulls away from Joan’s touch.] This doesn’t make any sense… Have you seen anyone with scars like these before? In Ryslig or in… [She mentally grasps for the name.] New York?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)