[CLOSED] YOU CAN'T GO HOME AGAIN

[katabasis]

WHO: Gwenaëlle, Loxley, Abby and Derrica
WHAT: Closing a rift
WHEN: Sometime in Harvestmere
WHERE: Rivain
NOTES: OOC info is available here. Add warnings in your subject lines if applicable.

Cutting across Rialto Bay proves to be less dramatic than feared by the crew of the Amberdine, the fleet little trade ship who had agreed to convey the four Riftwatchers to Rialto in exchange for added firepower. Despite tales of cutthroat pirate activity in the Bay, the Amberdine and her cargo of wool, furs and wood makes the crossing unmolested.

Bound for the bustling harbor of Dairsmuid, the ship makes a brief stop south of there to see Gwenaëlle, Loxley, Abby and Derrica ferried ashore. The agreement is that they will see the rift in Sanavo dealt with, and then travel north to rejoin the Amberdine in Dairsmuid a week hence. All together, with a new cargo of tea and sugar, they will make the allegedly risky sprint south again.

But in the meantime: Sanavo, a quiet village tucked in along the coast. It's immediately clear that the pearl harvest must be the only thing that sustains its existence. There are no fields for planting or grazing lands, and little visible evidence of trade that isn't somehow accessory to either pearling or fishing. Clearly, the pearl business must ordinarily be good enough to sustain the few hundred people in residence.

What quickly becomes just as obvious is that, despite the warm welcome by the village council—a trio of women of disparate ages—, the generous accommodations, and the fact that Riftwatch is here to help them, the locals are clearly wary of their guests. Children of the village have been subtly discouraged from interacting with the visitors, a number of doors have been judiciously closed, and in general there is a sense that everyone is keeping a careful eye on the four strangers.

But it's probably nothing to worry about. Maybe once the rift is closed and they have a better sense of who they're dealing with, the chilly edge will defrost…

Comments

[armd]

It's something that Abby can't relate to: she's used to those around her having had unease baked into them from birth, she won't begrudge them any wariness. But these are Derrica's lands, her people. Abby thinks about what it must feel like to have to come back after being away for so long only to find everything different; she thinks of the old radio receiver in the basement of 2425 Constance, Santa Barbara proper.

"How long has it been since you were here?" is her way of searching for something to connect with Derrica over, even though she is currently the furthest from the Fireflies than she possibly could be.

Not missing them, per say. She wouldn't know what to miss.

[tender]

"Eight years."

Maybe a little more now, give or take.

"I had to run," she says softly, an explanation Abby didn't ask for. "I didn't know if they would be hunting for anyone who escaped the Annulment. And then..."

This is different than what she had said at the Conclave. A new dimension to the story, something else that had been taken from her that had not been shared aloud.

"I was afraid, I think. Of what would be waiting for me here as much as of being found."

[armd]

Eight years is a long time. Her expression pinches in sympathy and she rolls the cigarette between index finger and thumb, looking at it, letting Derrica's words wash over her. Abby knows this feeling so intimately. It's hard not to feel rattled by hearing Derrica say it aloud, releasing it into the cool night air.

"... How do you feel now?"

[tender]

It's a good question. Derrica doesn't have a straight-forward answer for it, and so she takes a long moment to feel out the muddled tangle of emotion that comes rushing forward when prompted.

"I think..."

A trailing pause. She looks at Abby, then away. Takes in the land, the lap of the sea along the shoreline, the distant murmur of voices in the huts beyond them.

"I couldn't have come back any sooner than I have, but I wish I hadn't stayed away so long," she says softly. "And I'm not so sure I fit, or I would fit, in the place I left even if it still existed."

[armd]

She nods, watching Derrica watch their surroundings. Her gaze lingers on the edge of the sea where it disappears into the horizon for a while. Abby thinks she understands a bit of the loneliness behind those words (and she'll always recognise regret).

Rubbing her hand over the nape of her neck, she replies, "I think it takes time." Like arriving in Seattle hostile, and heart-broken, to set about carving room for a new version of herself.

"And you weren't here before, but you're here now. That counts for something. Going back is hard."

[tender]

"I'm here, but I can't stay. I'm needed, and I can't help from here."

As she speaks, her gaze shifts back to Abby. Measuring. Appraising.

The sincerity of this advice comes from somewhere. Derrica feels as if she's put fingers to the edge of it, like a piece of parchment that might unfurl if she gave it a slight push along her desk in the Project Haven office.

"Was it hard for you? When you went back?"

A shot in the dark. Going back is hard doesn't feel like a baseless platitude though.

cw mention of slavery

[armd]

Well, about that.

Abby shakes her head, and then the words get tangled up before she can say them, so she has to clear her throat first. Glancing at her hands, she brings them together, fingers interlocking with each other. Confesses, "I didn't make it back."

Hypocritical, right. Derrica knows pieces of this already, but Abby had not been candid with her at the time they spoke after her fight with Ellie, too numb to want to repeat anything. The grief lingers, multifaceted, fucked up, but a bit of time has soothest the rawest parts.

Her turn to look toward the ocean. This isn't easy to say, or hear. "I wanted to go, I was ready. But we got caught by– slavers, on the way there. They kept us locked up for months."

For reassurance, "We got out, but I don't know if we..." she shrugs, stare slightly vacant. "I woke up then, so."

[tender]

Some part of Abby goes away from her. Derrica can see it. Recognize it for what it is.

Her fingers find Abby's knee, linger there very lightly as she looks into Abby's face.

"I'm so sorry."

Words that hardly begin to assuage the kind of pain Abby is describing. Yes, it is a glancing account. But it is a small start. Maybe there is some comfort to be taken from it.

"Are you alright?"

It's been weeks and weeks. This question is so late it might even be useless now.

[armd]

"Um," Abby says, a little rush of sound welling up. Her eyes are prickling at the corners, and it has everything to do with that simple show of kindness, the fingers brushing against her knee. She doesn't move her leg away. "I dunno."

Sort of? Not really?

She still thinks about it, albeit not in the same all-consuming, preoccupying way that she did when she first had the dream. Now it comes rushing back at her when she least expects it to, and lingers like a bad taste.

"I'll be fine," she adds quickly. The cigarette gifted to her is still pinched between her fingers, unlit. She holds it out to Derrica, seeking a light.

[tender]

Fire isn't Derrica's forte. But Matthias has gone to some trouble to teach her, so she has enough to cup her palm and bring a dancing flicker of fire forth. Carefully held, she extends a hand, leans in to allow Abby to use it.

"You don't have to be fine."

Does Abby know this? Derrica hopes she does, that someone had said it to her already.

"But if you want to talk about it, if that would help, you can talk to me."

An open offer, one Derrica almost expects to be declined. It's complicated between them. Maybe more so now, considering what had happened not so long ago between Abby and Ellie. It's understandable, that Abby would want a more neutral party to confide in.

[armd]

Nobody has said that to her. She rolls it over her tongue, along with the first drag on the end of the cigarette she lights from Derrica's little flame (fuck that's handy), thinking. The thing is, she hasn't given many people the chance to say it.

"I don't know how to talk about it," is the problem, maybe. Frustration leaks out of her, smoke curling from her lip. Honesty makes it tremble, "It's so fucking horrible. I can't- how am I supposed to?"

It's not even that she wants to, really, but that it won't stay where it is any more. She used to be able to push things down inside and keep them there indefinitely, let it all burst out of her in other ways, and she's lost that. Or maybe what happened to her and Lev is simply too big. "They kept us in dog cages," she explains, voice tight and laced with stress, "And that isn't even the worst part, but I-"

She's upsetting herself. She stops abruptly, squeezes her eyes shut and breathes, the end of the cigarette jutting outward from where she's perched her shivering hand on her knee. The ash drops down toward the sand.

[tender]

This feeling, Derrica understands. Maybe not the exact circumstances (no one has ever kept her in a cage) but the idea of something so horrible that it is hard to put into words. It had taken her years to find a way to speak of Dairsmuid, and every time it still feels like cutting herself open, tearing at scars only just healed.

Beside Abby, Derrica shifts up, drawing her knees beneath her as she links her fingers more securely through Abby's.

"You survived it."

Even if Abby is here instead of there.

"There's nothing they can do to you, not anymore. And you don't have to know how. Or even try right now, to find a way," Derrica tells her, before adding, "Just breathe. Remember where you are."

[armd]

Closing her eyes doesn't help, is worse even, too dark. She needs to- Abby opens them up, looking around, checking exits.

They're on the beach. Here, not there.

Another soft, shuddering breath. Suddenly she wants to cry, her eyes prickling over hot at the edges. It's just that she hates that it affects her like this, that she can put herself back there in seconds and have to fight her way out, all over again. But Derrica's fingers weave through hers to draw her attention that way, gentle, like one might coax a wary animal closer.

Abby doesn't think she can say anything. She doesn't trust herself to open her mouth, so she nods stupidly and breathes in through her nose. Her lungs clench up. The exhale shudders out of her, barely clears her body before she pulls in again, fighting the thickness of dread.

Whispers, "Okay."

[tender]

"Okay," Derrica echoes. "You're okay."

In which okay is such a limited, narrow thing. Abby is okay in this moment. She's safe. Nothing here is going to hurt her. And she can take the time she needs to process all that she's survived.

Heal, even if it takes months and months.

"You can stay, as long as you like," she offers. "I know it was worse for me sometimes, at night."

When everything was quiet, and she had nothing to do but think on the past.

"We don't have to talk anymore."

[armd]

"No," she says thickly, shaking her head. She has to force the words out. "I want to talk. But not about that."

It's too close to the surface as it is. Staying so close to the beach makes her think about the boat and being on it with Lev, and then that tumbles down into what she let happen to him; like Derrica said, it's worse at night. She sniffs, and brushes her hand across her face when she blinks and two tears have the audacity to spill over.

"Um," in an attempt to hide it, "You- do you know Loxley at all? I sorta just met him." Obviously she's seen him around but they haven't spoken much before now, is what she's trying to say, in her attempt to reach out for any new topic of conversation (everybody already knows Gwen, so).

[tender]

An unexpected choice of segue. Derrica's eyebrows lift in surprise. The worried pinch of her expression softens, easing into a smile. Her fingers tighten lightly over Abby's hand.

"Yes, I know him."

A minor understatement, somewhat. Her smile widens a little as she says this, though her grip remains on Abby's hand.

"What do you think of him?"

[armd]

She catches Derrica's amusement and it burns her a little, in the second or two that she thinks she's being laughed at, but, slowly, she recognises that it wouldn't feel like that if she weren't so raw-edged. Derrica's fingers haven't left her hand at all; Abby relaxes.

"He's... interesting." She thinks she likes that he's bold, that he'll say anything. He's the first Qunari she's ever met. "We talked a bit on the beach this afternoon. Nothing important or anything, but it was nice."

False-grouchy, now. Abby doesn't really mind. "He said I seem like I could use some relaxation." Rude.

[tender]

"I think he's right."

Straightforward agreement. Whatever fraught uncertainty lies between herself and Loxley at this moment, Derrica knows his assessment to be true. And she also suspects Abby will find it difficult, needed or not.

"You can trust him, you know. He's very kind."

Newly met or not, Derrica's certain he'd have Abby's best interests at heart.

[armd]

"Yeah," Abby admits, sighing, "He is."

Not hard to see that, huh. It's not like this is the first time Abby's ever had a joke of that flavour aimed at her before either, and she shrugs a shoulder. "My- friends back home used to make fun of me for not relaxing all the time. Manny kinda made it his business just to tell me to unclench, actually."

That's still funny to her. Her lips twitch a little at the corners. "I do trust him," she adds, almost off the cuff, casual. "You too."