Entry tags:
( closed ) standing on their own two feet
WHO: Cosima and Helena
WHAT: discussing an absent clone
WHEN: a little backdated
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: nothing specific foreseen, but given that it's Helena I might need to update this later
WHAT: discussing an absent clone
WHEN: a little backdated
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: nothing specific foreseen, but given that it's Helena I might need to update this later
Helena disappeared for a few days, when they realised Sarah was gone. Searching, no matter what they said about rifters sometimes leaving, no matter what she had seen for herself. Sometimes people were here, and then they were simply gone. She couldn't be in the room that she and Sarah had shared with her sister no longer there, but neither could she stay away. More than once she had slunk in and lain down in Sarah's bed, inhaling the scent of her pillow, and then been afraid to stay in it too long in case her own smell lingered there in place of Sarah's.
She has been trailing through gutters, darktown, rooftops and Sundermount. Her manner is wilder than was usual the past few months, clothes more filthy and ragged, and twigs and leaves are caught in the mess blonde mass of her hair. Her nails and the creases of her skin are dark with dirt, and she only enters Cosima's laboratory when she is alone.
"Sestra Cosima." Rasping and rough, a brace of rabbits hanging over one of her shoulders. "We must talk."

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Sharp, focused. She knew of the sickness some of the copies had. She had seen it, the way the German had been coughing and struggling to breathe before she extinguished that flame. Cosima was sick as well, yes? She thinks she remembers this being said. Much, though, much of her focus was on Sarah, Sarah being alright, keeping Sarah safe or helping her recover.
Now she needed to focus on Cosima. "Why no more sneaking?"
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The friend, that is a bittersweet thing. A thing she will ask about later, once she has her thoughts better organised, has come to understand this pressing discovery. Helena knows something of cages. They are not an easy thing.
"What happened? Who did this?"
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Two years on and she can talk about this now, even if it still leaves her a little shaky in ways that concern her. (She'd get some therapy, maybe, if she were home; she's not, so she doesn't.)
"The ones who captured us are dead, now. So. At least there's that."
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"Two years is nothing. We burn them down."
Not a choice: an oath.
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"I'm not going to protest taking out the Venatori. They're a murder cult directly working for the guy trying to end the world. But I promise you, the particular assholes who hurt me are gone, at least." It didn't always help, but she had fewer nightmares than she used to. Time had helped.
Softer, "I'm OK. The healers took care of me, I'm mostly good as new." She has the sad, quiet thought that no one who went through that with her is left; gone back to the Fade, at least one of them dead, the others gone somewhere into Thedas. It's a bit grim, even apart from the Venatori.