2017-05-31: Sweet Brown Medicine
- Log: Sweet Brown Medicine
- Cast: Emma Hetfield, Lunata Croze (Meredin Croze)
- Where: Adlehyde, Hetfield Industries
- Date: 31st May 2017
- Summary: Meredin and Emma decide to recuperate with some sweet, sweet lovin whiskey.
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
It hasn't been a good day for Meredin Croze.
As much as she wants to hide it behind a bloodthirsty feral grin, running off with Atheron and diving off into the streets of rage in a fervous and blasting Demons left, right, and centre, she knows that everything's about to change. In the aftermath of it, she's discovered that poor Lunata -- that she kind of left to fend to her own defenses, oops -- got pretty heavily injured from a serpentine demon, and the city is in no small amount of disrepair.
Meredin opts to deal with this in the only way she knows how.
She slips into Hetfield Industries with an industrial-strength bottle of hard liquor, tilting her head. "Emma? Emma, be a dear and tell me you're here."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
Hetfield Industries is sort of intact. The stairwell is there and the door with the shingle on it, and even the cellar door that the Emma Motors and other bulk goods get moved around through!
Of course most of the topmost building is gone now and there's a big hole in the floor. So now there's an EXTRA access point into Hetfield Industries.
Emma is downstairs. Two of the Emma Motors have tarps over them still. Two others are skeletally dissected, possibly to reclaim copper. Emma herself is laying on her foldout bed, a damp cloth on her forehead. She doesn't answer right away.
Then she does, with a half-mumbling flatness. "I'm here, what is it. It isn't even light yet. Let me sleep, I hurt. I -"
Silence.
"Meredin! Come in. The door should be unlocked! I'm in here," hand sticks up and waves. "Yoo hoo. Forgive me but I think my back has fused."
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
Meredin's heels are always distinct in the way they 'clack' against the metallic plating and floors of Hetfield Industries. She's possibly cussed when she's walked over a catwalk and slipped her stilettos in through a mesh floor before. "It's noon, Emma dear. Did you confuse what time of day it is again?"
She slides down the stairs and comes closer. "I come bringing our beautiful brown friend, single malt whiskey."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
"I was mumbling," Emma says.
She sits upright. "That's one of my best friends," she says, the bedclothes falling slightly away. "I was trying to sleep my cares away, but Mr. Whiskey will help quite a bit. Come, come. There should be something resembling glasses on the table there..."
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
Meredin is still dressed in her 'I'm trying to look professional but I really don't care about it' typical getup, involving a business blouse that's two buttons down south from respectable, a pencil skirt that's had a few stitches removed, opaque stockings and heels along with her strangely banchou-esque jacket slung casually over her shoulders. Tie, too. "Here here," she grins, picking up the glasses -- probably of misshapen sizes -- and pours them in without a care in the world. They're not at a bar, here. No fancy ice globes for their drinks, but who cares?
"I'm sorry," she says after a pause. "... an astonishing thing to run into, all of this. I should've been faster. I could've dug it up, Emma."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
No ice today.
The glasses are indeed mismatched.
"For what?" Emma says. She's wearing a brasserie and nothing else, with her blanket on her lap. She blinks a couple of times. "Dug what up, Lolithia? Don't be ridiculous - you couldn't have known! Besides," she concludes, reaching for the liquor, "that's what I tell myself; you're taking my job."
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
"... I don't know. It sounded cooler in my head," Meredin admits after a while, and then she tucks her drink back and knocks it down. "No, not Lolithia. That... thing. Whatever the notes are all talking about in the Singing Ruins. Rujm el-Hiri. Some kind of Guardian. Could've pulled it out with your motor. Turned it on. Melt those goons to dust. Maybe take out half the city. Worth it? I don't know."
She shakes her head. "I just don't know. Keep getting wrapped up in 'what ifs'. It's not like me." A pause. "I don't like 'not me'."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
"Oh, yes; now I recall," Emma says. "Do you have any evidence?"
She then considers.
"It might have only been thirty or forty percent," she adds, gesturing at Meredin with the glass. "That would have been better, depending on which percentage it was."
She doesn't laugh. She sips the glass. Pretty big sip.
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
"Does anyone ever have any evidence?" Meredin's look is kind of wry. "The gag back at Linga is that we all scrounge about, throwing our backs, obsessing ourselves with what could possibly just be cartoon scribbles from the Zeboim era." A pause. "That happened once. It was kind of smutty. I think the TA got thrown out for their interpretation from the auditorium."
A longer pause. "Just pictures," she actually answers the question. "Still, I want it. More than ever, now. Can't feel damn safe nowadays unless you have twelve feet of ancient steel to wrap yourself in."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
"Do you still have a copy?"
Emma then laughs. It's kind of a weird, almost giggling sound. "I tried that. The problem is that steel bends and you get knocked over. At least I wasn't too badly hurt, and friendly pirates recovered me."
- sip* "Have you come out of it all, well; not alright, but...?"
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
Meredin rubs at her forehead, sighing. "... yeah. Got a stray shot to my leg, but that's not news." A pause, as she slips a hand into her shirt and pulls out a script of it, placing it down on the table. "Hell of a thing you did. How long did you have to cobble that walking tank together, fifteen minutes?" A pause. "I love it."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
"Oh, it was at least a half an hour," Emma says. "And I found the treads there already. You really did? I didn't know you were there - or is someone already giving tours of the wreckage?"
She also reaches for the script. Her arm is freshly bandaged and her grip is a little weak.
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
Meredin pauses. "I was looking for Lunata, and caught a glimpse. I saw that giant toad with the wrecking ball and went 'nope nope nope', though."
Meredin's script is a rather extravagant and detailed reproduction of what appear to be ancient stone slabs; the kind with sideways depictions of warriors and priests marching along an arid sun that looks more like a fun sunburst in some cultures, leading up to some kind of pyramid structure with a massive... Golem? No, not quite -- it could be a Gear, perhaps, with wings, seated on a throne. Skulls and dead spirits revolve around it in a grand wheel pattern.
It's kind of 'take it with a grain of salt', all of these depictions. Could be someone's manga from ages past.
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
"Exactly like that? I don't blame you," Emma says as she starts leafing through the script, looking for the dirty parts, "but I couldn't just... sit there, you know? What I suppose has gotten to me is how..."
Emma trails off.
"I don't know how to articulate it. It's a funny feeling, isn't it? I just don't know how to feel about all of this..."
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
Meredin might've been referring to something else, but if you squint closely, maybe that little round thing could qualify for a boob. "... yeah. Maybe you have more of a hero streak than you'd care to realise?" she says in a teasing tone. "We're both a bit too old for that, don't you think? Doesn't feel bad at all, though."
She knocks the rest of her drink back. "Not going to stop, though. If there's a giant gun there somewhere, I'd rather have it be used than sitting down there. Screw the museums, after what happened here."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
Hee hee. A boob.
"Maybe," Emma says, her voice flat.
Then she takes in a deep breath. And a big sip of whiskey.
She's bright and cheery again. Thanks to BOOZE! "You're going to pursue this excavation, then! You know, I had been asked, while I was repairing the ARM - ha ha, it's a play on words, since it's actually her arm - of that nice Gwen girl, just what are you going to do now, Professor Hetfield?"
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
Meredin's voice is starting to lilt again. The harsh, rough edges of Filgaia are summarily forgotten. Thanks to BOOZE!
"Help me with this, Emma," Meredin begs again, grinning lopsidedly. "Guardians forbid, let's put your damn name as the professor who discovered two Golems, or three, or... let's not stop there. Let's not stop until we have a little pretty row of terracotta warriors dancing at our heels. World in flame. Helpless people screaming our name."
A pause. "I think I picked up the wrong playbook at some point."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
"You've stepped on my line," Emma says, but not unfondly.
"I was going to decide after I'd spoken with you," Emma then says, but then she stiffens and her eyes turn down. It's quite schoolgirlish. As her cheeks redden, she says, "I don't want warriors. I don't want to set the world on fire. I want a world that's getting better again. We can do it. The ARM isn't just a tool of war..."
Emma kills off the glass. "... But I think you've gotten me drunk already, Meredin."
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
Meredin lets out a 'pffff' that kinda involves pushing air out her lips that kinda sounds like a fake fart.
"... I want that too," Meredin admits. "... damn if I don't /feel/ like the opposite sometime though. Just pretend we're five and that problems can be fixed by going 'pew pew pew' at 'em again. ... but, already? You lightweight."
She kind of scoots over to sit on the bed with Emma, coming in closer. "That's what I like about you, though."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
Emma shifts around and wraps an arm over Meredin's shoulder.
"I didn't talk much when I was five," she says, not looking up. Her cheeks stay red. "And is it really? I know you remarked I was more economical in terms of drinks per evening."
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
Meredin scoffs and says, "And I talked so much the tutors yelled, 'Shut up!!', I recall. Well, as long as we get there in the end, I don't give one whit of care about how many standard drinks it takes." She leans in and places a gentle kiss on Emma's forehead. "... you had fun, up before the point where everything became unfun?"
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
The kiss tastes a little grease, a little dirt, some old perfume. Emma's eyes close. Her glasses fog slightly.
"With the discovery, you mean? Mm. Well, I had thought Lolithia was inert, and I had had to tell this nice couple who came here to bother me that it was almost certainly perfectly safe and completely immobile. It would seem I was right, but frankly I think I would have preferred to be wrong. The Golems would have no doubt fought the Metal Demons..."
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
The /best/ kind of kiss, clearly.
"And with the... festival. I got to grill some of the weirdos who responded to that ad of yours, but I didn't know which fine gentleman-and-or-young lady you wound up going with in the end," Meredin lets out a sigh. "... heavy stuff, that. Metal Demons, being real. Why couldn't it be the story where the moon's made out of cheese?" A pause. "Still hoping that one's true..."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
"Oh, I think they bypassed you," Emma murmurs. It's softer, almost flat, but at this range Meredin can hear, so to speak, the true feelings.
"Do you really? Well, space is a vacuum - it would be extremely dry cheese, and interiorly it would have certainly spoiled through anaerobic fermentation. Then again, it would be good to confirm such things, isn't it?"
"I have one last grim confession to make."
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
"Those very lovely fellows from Lunar seem to think that it's a lush moon, so the cheese must be delectably sweet and velvety. Mmm, cheese." A pause, as she looks to Emma. "Hon, I'm a taxicab," Meredin half-slurs. What the hell is a taxicab? Must be one of those weird things out west, from the Seed Cities. "Confess away."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
"I fear that I brought this upon us, by making fun of that display model's chubby tummy," Emma says. Her hands clasp together, raising up the glass. "Please... assure me I didn't; lie if you have to."
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
"I...." Meredin pauses, before-- before-- before cracking up rather sardonically, shaking her head. "Emma. Emma Emma Emma. Are you going to blame /yourself/ for what happened? If anything, I would've said, Professor Bridges' horrendous shortsightedness and lack of detail to anything resembling historical common sense drew /such/ ire that it rose legends from the dead and made the Guardians walk this forsaken world again."
A pause, as she leans in and pecks her on the forehead once more. "Of course you didn't, sweetie."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
"It's not a very scientific mindset, is it? I'm going to put my head in your lap now," Emma states, before she squirms back and does exactly that.
"Ahhh... what a fine pillow. My neck pains are already disappearing..."
"How is the saloon? I haven't been up for days," Emma says then. "I didn't want to see what's happened, if I"m honest."
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
Meredin's lips curl into a bit of a grin as she strokes at Emma's hair. Meredin's lap pillow is, indeed, wonderful.
"Lost its roof. Rest is fine. Poor Lunata got wrung tight by some kind of snake demon. She's still running around restless," Meredin mumbles. "She'll live, though. She's stronger than that."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
"Wrung tight? My," Emma says. "Well, if she's running around... Really, though, not even a broken arm? I'd be jealous, but I'd also hate to be constricted."
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
"Bruised ribs, it seems," Meredin recants. "Black eye, probably can't see out of it for some time. But she's a tough girl. Tougher than you'd think." There's a measure of pride from her voice, something she has trouble expressing. "... if we're talking grim confessions, I have one to make too, actually. There's something I... have put off for a really long time because I don't know how the hell you go about doing it."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
Emma laughs. "She's... Is she taking it alright?"
She snuggles in for a moment. Rolls around. Takes off her glasses, evenly, which actually makes her look kind of like a nearsighted owl. But then, she planned her look around those specs. "Oh? It's probably from eating green vegetables for breakfast. But, ask away."
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
"Lunata's..."
Meredin hesitates, for a moment, visibly. She picks away at those pretty earrings of hers, the one she always wears. Emma knows that it's actually a sorcerous bomb of some kind. "Um. How do I put it. Lunata... I adopted her, when she was a baby. From some real asshole Baskars who wanted to throw her into a river."
A pause, as she mumbles, "I'm trying to find the best way to tell her, but... you know. World keeps ending. Demons being real."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
"What! I could tell you'd adopted her," Emma says, without explaining how YET, "but I can't believe - My goodness. Sweet Sophia, why would they throw such a sweet little girl in a river?"
Emma must be close to Meredin at the moment. She's not only expressed doubts but she mentioned religion in a way that wasn't actively pissing on an icon of god. "I suppose that you could use me as an example, if you needed it..."
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
Meredin blinks a few times, before mumbling, "I know, but /she/ doesn't know it. I... something to do with being some kind of horrible omen. ... I got obsessed with researching Rujm el-Hiri because of it, to be honest. They pointed it out to me. I honestly listened for about fifteen seconds before telling them they're a horrible bunch of baby-killers, grabbed her basket, and then ran for it."
She squints just for a moment at Emma. "It... it might help? I could use some support."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
Emma pats Meredin, somehow, despite her posture. "Well," she states; "as you know, Raymond Hetfield may have contributed a sperm cell, but my 'real' father is Zepet Roughknight. You've met Rudy, too? So, as you can see, those can both -"
Emma pauses. "I hope Rudy didn't die," she muses.
Back to the conversation. "Anyway. It isn't unusual or unhealthy. You've always loved her, of course, yes? She has no cause for complaint there?"
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
"... yes, good old Zepet..." Meredin muses, even though she, well, didn't hit the road and go on a grand old adventure with the fine fellow. Or meet his other grandkid. She raises an eyebrow to say, "No, I can't say I have. I'll have to keep an eye out."
A pause. "I-- of course I--" Wow it's hard for her to just say 'yes' "--I love her, but you know me, I don't exactly bake her cookies and pet her on the head and say everything will be fine." She groans. "I don't know how a sixteen year old's going to take being told 'by the way, I'm not your biological mother'. Don't have a comparison to sample from, you know!"
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
"What I do in these situations," Emma says, "although recent history tacks against it, is: What is the worst, but /plausible/, scenario for this?"
Emma waves a hand in the air. "For instance, it's unlikely she'll try to stab you with a kitchen knife."
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
Meredin chokes up a bit and says, "W-well, no, I don't think she's into that, despite all that time around Hilda." A pause. "She could /cry/ and stare at me with that look of hers when she wants me to feel bad! They pierce me, Emma! They pierce me so."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
"Of course," Emma says. "That would be horrible, BUT... So this is the /worst/ that has happened? Has she given you such a look before, has she cried before...?"
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
"Yes..." Meredin says, before admitting, "... I'd be scared if she said she'd rather live with Hilda and Tom instead of me, I guess. Lord knows she has so much more in common with them, with all of that cooking, coffee brewing, and hospitality...." She rubs at her forehead. "It feels like we'd have one less thing in common."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
"But you've raised her," Emma says. "You /saved/ her - so many children are born because people didn't use the Hetfield latex appliance," AND YOU WONDERED WHERE HER MONEY CAME FROM, "not because of love. You've seen it yourself, haven't you? Children shouted at or put to work for some factory. You didn't just save her - you could have been scalped by the Baskar for your trouble."
Wow, Emma. But she may not be wrong.
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
Meredin stares at Emma for a long, long while, before opening her mouth and ...
"... I've..."
A pause.
"I've used the Hetfield latex appliance as a waterskin to save my life in the desert."
A longer pause.
"No, that's not what I-- yes, I know-- I'm not going to try to fib myself out-- aagh!" Meredin sinks again. "... I know. I'm worrying over nothing. I just need the courage, and for once, it's not sweet brown medicine that'll give me that courage."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
"I'll be glad to come with you, if you want," Emma says, reaching over to rub Meredin's side and tummy area lightly. "And I'm glad you used it to help you. It's there to help people! Though I have heard a lot of complaints from men."
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
"I'll let you know that dear Atheron seems to love it. Though I'm not sure why he's asked for flavoured ones," Meredin squints. "It's not like he'd be tasting it himself, right? Anyway. Yes, I'd... I'd really appreciate if you came along for it. Thank you, Emma."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
Emma diplomatically ignores that and says, "Naturally."
"Where will you go, before this expedition? I don't know if you'd want to stage it from the smouldering wreckage here," Emma murmurs.
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
"Our house is still standing, so... there? We can have a little 'We're still alive' party. Bring some of her friends over too. Her seventeenth is coming up, and I'd rather have that be a nice memory, rather than horror," Meredin estimates.
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
"Of course! I'll bring her a present," Emma says.
After a pause, she asks, "How do you know it's her birthday?"
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
"... we just decided on a date," Meredin admits. "It was a full moon, I was drunk, I thought it'd be romantic."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
Emma pokes Meredin in her tummy, which lacks caesarian scar. "That's a very good reason," she states. "I wish I could pick my birthday."
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
"Why not?" Meredin reaches down and wraps her hand around Emma's, after the second poke. "I don't think there's a Birthday Fun Police roaming around somewhere. ... maybe. Well, Demons are real. Maybe those Althenan Guard are jerky enough to enforce it."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
"What is their deal even," Emma mutters.
Then she reaches up to pet at Meredin's face lightly, with her other hand. "I'd keep moving it up a year. That means I'd never get any older, right?"
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
Meredin says, just almost too sweetly, "You'll always be my older sister." A pause. "Wait, or am I the older one? I don't know. Do you want to be a nay-san or a nay-chan? Is that how they say it out there? I don't remember anymore."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
"Call me whatever you like, just don't call me late for dinner," Emma murmurs.
Then she looks in the hole in the roof. And her hand draws away, in a small and decisive way. She hasn't trimmed her nails anyway. "I suppose I should drink some water... perhaps even eat something. What do you think?"
<Pose Tracker> Meredin Croze has posed.
"Yeah."
Meredin starts to lift just a moment, before saying, "... I'll go grab us some takeout. I think I've got less jelly in my leg than you do at present."
She groans and strokes at the professor's hair again, before leaning over to put a finger to her cheek. "The cost'll be one smooch, though."
<Pose Tracker> Emma Hetfield has posed.
"Make it two on delivery," Emma says. "But be sure to bring a carafe, I /am/ going to die of a headache if I don't wet my whistle."