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Entry tags:
( closed ) I see the world through a filter
WHO: Cosima Niehaus, Sarah Manning, Sarah Manning’s migraine
WHAT: Cosima and Helena’s introduction in canon was a lot cuter than this
WHEN: mumbles vaguely
WHERE: a tavern, Lowtown
NOTES: Helena, so probably they’ll have to be added later eAe (Clone friends, if you’d prefer action over prose just reply with that and I’ll match format)
WHAT: Cosima and Helena’s introduction in canon was a lot cuter than this
WHEN: mumbles vaguely
WHERE: a tavern, Lowtown
NOTES: Helena, so probably they’ll have to be added later eAe (Clone friends, if you’d prefer action over prose just reply with that and I’ll match format)
Sarah has managed to herd her to… somewhere. They left the castle on a boat to go to the Kirkwall, moved through crowded streets all stacked up higgledy piggledy, people rushing through on paths that they stick to as stubbornly as little ants. Scurrying, on and on.
Now they sit in a bar. The room is dingy, though it doesn’t occur to Helena to describe it in such terms. It seems nice. Sarah chose it, she is sure it’s nice. She has been told to sit and to wait, and to not get into trouble. Sarah had been particularly eager to make sure she understood the last part, and she is not causing problem, but people are shooting her looks anyway. People often shoot her looks, cross streets, pretend they don’t see her.
She enjoys the reaction, and when a man stares at her for too long she slams her hands down on the tabletop and hisses at him, like a cat. He jumps, clears his throat and stares into his beer. Good.
She’s still grinning as she uses a piece of metal she has twisted into a point (where did she even get it?) to start etching into the surface of the table, a messy looking smiley face, or the beginnings of it.
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A crunch of the onion, and she tilts her head as she runs that through her head. She knew they could not have children. Maggie Chen had told Tomas.
"Because we are all abominations?"
That is why the Alison could not have babies the right way, like Sarah did. Without marrying probably less right and good, by the rules of the Church, but she could not find any fault with Kira, or with Sarah. And Sarah, she realises, is sad. She sets her onion down on the table, wipes her hand on her shirt, and gently pats Sarah's shoulder.
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She glances at Sarah. "It's possible I figured out more about it, back home, but science is kind of slow going here."
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Glancing to Helena, steals the whiskey back and says, "Whether we can have kids or not doesn't mean anything. It's all a bunch of random science shit."
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Offered uncertainly, but helpfully, to th and complete Sarah’s sentence based on her gesturing.
For the other matter she shrugs, watching as Sarah slides the whiskey away again, and takes a gulp of her mead cocktail. “Is what Tomas said.”
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"Some of us are sick," she says to Helena. "It makes us cough." Blood, but that's not necessary to explain why Sarah'd gestured to her chest. "And it means we can't have kids. I wonder if that was the point? I mean, it'd make a lot more sense; control the experiment by making sure we can't go spreading our copyrighted genes into the general population where they get harder to control. I can't think what the self-destruction would get them, not widespread like this."
She hasn't given Dyad this much thought in months, she realizes, startled. Corypheus might be trying to destroy the world, but at least it wasn't personal.
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"The disease was a mistake. The infertility wasn't. I don't get how they're connected, though. That's all your thing." A quick glance at Cosima—there's still so much she doesn't even know yet—and then to Helena, checking for her reaction to all of this.
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Changing women so they couldn't have babies. Self-destruction. She looks between Sarah, and Cosima, and her hands curl into fists, fingertips and chewed down nails scraping ineffectively cross the wooden surface. It is unnatural. Unnatural and cruel and wrong.
"They made babies and hurt them." Her nose and the corner of her mouth twitch very briefly. A sharp look to Sarah. "What about Kira?"
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It's three quarters a threat and one quarter an honest question. This is the hill she'll die on, no matter how many clues she gets to the contrary: nothing is wrong with Kira. Kira is completely normal. Kira will be safe.
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Her breath wavers for a moment, and one of her hands drops to her abdomen, as she looks down. Memories are hazy and dim, but she pushes down the thought of the Prolethean farm.
“Are we different?”
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For all it's mostly under control for now, it's not gone and she's aware that going on a field mission without a healer is dangerous for her in ways it wouldn't be for her sister. Sisters.
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She glances to Cosima and adds, "We were actually using stem cells from her baby teeth as a treatment for you, and then bone marrow..." She trails off, not wanting to say the rest, but it's probably obvious by the look in her face that whatever happened didn't work. (Thanks, Rachel.)
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Her head tilts to the side, and when she finally swallows, she exhales heavily.
Looking between Cosima and Sarah she sips her mead, fidgety, and—
"I'm sorry you are being sick!"
Blurted out.
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If she goes back, but she's not going to say it that way in front of Sarah. Of course they'll go back; they have to, so they will.
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"Yeah, so anyway," she says after swallowing, and absently pushes her hair out of her face, looking sidelong at Helena. "Any other questions?"
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"Not now," she finally settles on, taking a chomp out of the nightmare onion creation. "Do eithers have question for me?"
She can answer questions, too. Be helpful.
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