oathshackledbird | Ruby City Mailbox/Inbox

I'm calm. I am.

[Convincing no one, she darts her gaze towards the kitchen.

Dressed in her usual unassuming and unembellished white cotton dress, Chari has a new companion in the form of a small, white firelizard draped around her bare shoulders.]

But I would like some tea.

[Diarmuid could point out her very obvious lie, but decides just to acknowledge it with a nod instead, and then focuses on setting the tea to brew. Once it is doing so, he turns back to face her, leaning against the counter as he does.]

What is your friend's name? I've never seen a white fire lizard before. Is it an albino?

Dawn. He... was a present.

[She finds a seat and watches him. The firelizard sleeps.]

He came out of the egg too soon, but someone wanted one so badly. He isn't here anymore, so I brought Dawn to me. I'll keep him safe.

[...]

I came to talk to you about Tim.

The poor thing. I am glad he has you to be his family now. I am sure you will take good care of him.

[The scent of tea drift to Diarmuid's nose as he responds letting him know it is ready. Soon, he is pouring two cups, one for Chari and one for himself, before settling into a seat near her.]

I thought you said you weren't suppose to talk about it. I don't want you to get into trouble too.

There's a lot I'm not supposed to talk about.

[Chari grips the cup in both hands, watching the steam rising. Under her freckles, she's grown pale.]

They don't trust me. They're right not to. I loved one of you, once. I'm a risk. They know that.

Why is the deadliest sin to love as I have loved?

[They were words his father said once as they discussed how he felt about his son's own tumultuous love. They drift into mind and are muttered under Diarmuid's breath almost unconsciously as both the pain Chari's words carry and the pain he feels from the whirlwind that was Lisa Lisa returning and then being snatched away again so quickly mix together.]

No one should be faulted for who they love. It's only the fact that they view all of us as enemies that causes the divide. We aren't all bad.

It was never because you're the enemy.

[She sips her tea, eyes lowered, and thinks of her dear, sweet Jack. Broken but cheerful, lying to cover pain and betrayal, no longer able to be sure of just who he really was in a world that was no longer his.

It had been no surprise that they had been drawn together.]

It's because we are.

Why do you have to be?

[His hands tighten around his own cup and he only barely releases his hold on it fast enough to keep it from cracking under the pressure.]

Whose rules make it so? Is it because of how we make you feel? Because you were 'made wrong?'

[She closes her eyes and breathes in slowly, stirring the steam rising from the cup she holds as she exhales.]

I wasn't always... like this. [Disgust, bitter and acrid, momentarily laces her words.] I played the piano. I wanted to be a dancer.

[Chari bites her lip.]

My name was-- [She hesitates, stumbling on the word.] ... Harper. Isn't that silly?

What is so silly about it?

[He seems genuinely confused by her question, so confused he forgets about his anger for a while.]

I bet you would have been a great dancer. Since you played the piano, that means you already had an ear for music. My father taught me to sing and play the harp from a young age, so I have a great love of music too. I didn't know what a piano was until I was brought here, though. Now I think I might like to learn how to play one if I ever get a chance.

[She shakes her head and smiles, her expression distant.]

It doesn't matter now. We can't go back, and it hurts to think about the past. But it.. hurts Tim more, I think.

No one can go back. It's what makes the past the past, but that doesn't mean you have to let go of everything. Maybe if you take back a little of it, it will hurt less? Is there something keeping you from playing the piano or dancing here?

[A contemplative looks fills his eyes. After several moments of thought, he finally speaks.]

I get the feeling we are talking about a different kind of hurt than what the lack of humility in people today causes him.

Yes.

[Still with her distant smile she looks up at him and fidgets with the handle of the cup. What the 'yes' actually refers to, she doesn't elaborate, but presses on.]

He'd be angry if he knew I told you. You can't tell him I told you.

[He frowns a little at the vague answer, but doesn't press for now. Instead, he allows her to move the topic back to Tim.]

It must be something very important if he guards it so closely. I will not tell. I promise. The last thing I want is for you to get into trouble when you are just trying to help.

[Hopefully, this will end up better than Chassie's attempt to help did.]

[It's hard to say, as if something stops her, and she chews on her lip hard enough to swell it under her teeth.]

He had a boyfriend. Before. He was in the labs too. They watched each other change until they didn't know each other anymore.

[Suddenly, it feels like something has driven all the air from Diarmuid's chest. He presses his hands flat against the table for a moment and then curls his fingers inward, nails digging into the wood. Focus. Breathe in. Out. Push away the many images that pop into his head of having to watch Lisa Lisa, Oscar, his children, any number of other people he has loved over his life go through such a thing.

He hates how vivid his imagination paints those images.

How would if feel to have your everything taken away like that? Rage. Hate. Red. Black. It would drive most people to madness. He's tasted that kind of madness before and feels it cloud in around his senses for a brief moment before he shoves it away.

Is Tim what Diarmuid would have become if he had never pulled himself out of the madness Kayneth's betrayal plunged him into?]

I-

[Diarmuid pauses, trying to find the right way to phrase his question.]

Is that boyfriend one of you or is he...?

[Yeah, he can't bring himself to finish that.]

[Chari winces before the crashing tidal wave of Diarmuid's suddenly tumultuous emotions. She closes her eyes, grips the cup and sways back minutely, pulling in a sharp breath.]

Yes.

[Said gently, this time she goes on.]

And yes. Both of those things.

[Her reaction to his emotions sends Diarmuid rushing to rein them in. It's not an easy task, though, since once freed, nothing that is usually bottled up goes back to being so willingly.]

Sorry.

[He raises a hand, pressing his fingers against his forehead as if it will help force his emotions back into order.]

It's all just too cruel. By all Above and Below, it's just too much!

It's okay.

[Chari breathes out the words and her shoulders relax, a small bead of blood forming on her lower lip where a tooth cuts into it. She brushes it off with a small motion of one hand, the other picking at a rough spot on the table top.]

He used to be a better person. We were all better people. But we're not... [She inhales, exhales...] We're not.. people.. anymore. What they did to us, what being here did to us, and what Chassie did to us... Don't feel sorry for me, Diarmuid. I'll only hurt you.

That's not true.

[His voice is calmer now, more focused. Her words have brought forward a spark of anger that is just what he needs to bring order to his chaotic emotions.]

Because if it was true, I wouldn't be human either. I'm just a copy of a soul. Magical energy that something no one can even properly explain twisted and formed into the shape of a human. But you, Tim, me. We all still feel human emotions. Even if some of us end up feeling certain emotions more than others.

As long as you feel. As long as you remember how to feel, you are still human no matter what form you are in.

[Chassie quiets, looking down at her hands as she twists them in her lap. Her skin is still pale, freckles standing out starkly against it and she keeps her eyes down when she shakes her head minutely as if in private denial of what he says.]

What if we don't want to?

[It's come up before, but perhaps not to him.]

I remember you said that before.

[And his frown makes it clear he still doesn't like the idea.]

I just still find it hard to understand. Without pain, we can't know happiness. I know hurt can make it tempting to want to be rid of it all, but what would the point of life be without emotions to enjoy it with?

What is the point of life?

[It's an echo, but also a question all on its own. Her voice grows distant and detached for a moment, then she suddenly smiles.]

Do you think we deserve to be happy?

I'm not sure I can tell you that. In order for your point to living to truly be yours, you need to find that answer yourself. For me, I have found helping and protecting others is what makes me happy. Their happiness is my own, however, that is not something I can force on others. I can try to make them understand why I feel that way, but that is all I can do.

[Diarmuid is silent for a few seconds before he answers her second question. It's not because he needs to think on the answer, more so because he is very aware of how much that question reminds him of the one Tim asked about everything needing to have a point.]

Yes, you do, but I realize your definition of happiness is different than mine. I just can't imagine living life without emotions no matter how painful they may be at times.

I can. It's how it was supposed to be, but it didn't.. stick.

[She frowns, head drawn into an oddly angled tilt as her eyes slide away from Diarmuid's. Her mind has gone somewhere distant, though only for a moment before her expression screws up and she shakes her head quickly.]

They didn't know what they were doing. Not really. It was their last chance, but when they let us out, everything went wrong. [Chari purses her lips and rubs one of her eyes with her knuckles.] They thought we'd be obedient, but we weren't. They'd hurt us enough.

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