2023-06-03: Reaching an Understanding
- Log: Reaching an Understanding
- Cast: Ruth Pauling, Hannah Curie
- Where: The Cape of Breath
- Date: June 03, 2023
- Summary: After Hannah's harrowing encounter with the Fangs, where she was aided (in part) by Ruth, the former seeks the latter out to talk.
============================<* The Cape of Breath *>============================ Stretching from the edge of the slowly-spreading northern desert, the Cape of Breath is the lush southern region of Meria Boule. Farmland and livestock take up much of the hilly region, dotted with the estates and castles of Merian nobles, often at the height of elevation, but across temperate land to the west great forests begin, still part of the great resources of the Merian nation. In places the badlands of the north find mirrors here, hotter regions with accordingly sparser populations... where people could move. To the farthest south and east are the wide coastlines, each marked with large cities. Only the fortress nature of many estates at the hearts of settlements recalls much of Meria's more warlike history, after the great efforts of the late Queen to ensure peace for all Meria Boule, and the spread of knowledge. Nevertheless, the increasing spread of monsters can make travel without caravan or guards a perilous undertaking indeed. BGM: Wild Arms 2 - Field ~ Wandering
<Pose Tracker> Ruth Pauling has posed.
It's a bright, clear evening on the very outskirts of Klein proper. The Drifters that converged upon the latest murder attempt by the Fangs in which to ease their curse have since gathered themselves and gone whatever way they will, and most of them are heading back in the direction of Klein.
Ruth herself doesn't have long to rest before setting out with Rixia on the latter's personal journey to find some form of emotional closure at Mt. Gagazet over in the once believed mythical continent of Spira. That's an entire world away - a many days' journey for the two of them with individually volatile circumstances.
Ruth has had the courtesy and energy to pull her Malevolence back inside herself, transforming into the shell of who she once was, but the amount of self-care work she does to make herself presentable is incomplete. She's yet to find new boots, needs to find herself a few new spare sets of gloves... and has wrapped and bound her oversized clothing haphazardly. Without them, that worn, blood-stained overcoat is more like a grisly quilt.
The hood of her shawl is pulled up over her head as she sits atop an elevated wall that any Drifter with an adequate amount of jumping acumen can reach, letting a gentle breeze rustle against her while the Silver Star shines down upon Klein. Both her ungloved hands are clasped in pious gesture, meditative against the ceaseless maelstrom of conflicting emotions. The Fangs are always difficult for her to live and deal with on levels that hit a little too close to home... wherever 'home' is, for her.
She's not hard to see or find. Almost anyone who does (such as night patrols) give her a wide berth, even among the stout-hearted among them.
<Pose Tracker> Hannah Curie has posed.
Hannah... has had better days, certainly. Stopping to assist someone who seemed to be wounded only to be jumped as part of a grisly murder scheme (and then to be further jumped by someone misinterpreting the situation) was not a fun or happy thing for her to experience. Quite the opposite. Though there are certain risks to traveling the road as she does, usually her and Zephyr can manage most dangers or just avoid them outright.
Today she needed help. If Zephyr hadn't been able to find the others...
Could she have fought them off? She's not certain. Pin one down, maybe, try to disable the other. Then again, they were desperate, and supernaturally empowered.
Could she have fought them off without having to tap into her own desperate reserves, do something truly grotesque that she would later regret?
Hannah counts herself very lucky that she does not have to answer that question this day.
She'd found herself leaning on Dean for support as they dispersed from the site of battle. She'd weathered everything they could throw at her, but not without injuries. That coffin attack had almost done her in, and only the desperate force of her magic had won her her freedom. She was thankfulto Dean for coming to her aid, thankful to Eleanor for the healing of her wounds (a task that she could perform herself, but not nearly as well), and thankful to Ruth...
Well, largely for coming to her aid. But also for some things she had said.
Zephyr finds Ruth first, circling high overhead for a moment before finding a place nearby th perch. Hannah comes trudging along sometime later, making no moves to hide her approach from Ruth so as to not be perceived as any kind of a threat.
Hannah has her own wardrobe-related difficulties at the moment. Not as extreme as Ruth's, but the black cloak she normally wears did not fare well in that day's fight. It was already a bit ragged and many-times-mended before, but her latest mending efforts are... not going well.
And so she approaches without it, wearing just her normal clothes. Boots, denim shorts, short-sleeved shirt (though it is untied, now), and a cropped denim vest. The red bandana that is normally tied around her arm under her clotk is tied around her neck, for the moment. And though the cloak took the worst of it, the rest of her outfit also looks a bit worse for the wear. Scruffed, patched, mends and tears resewn more than once.
Her bag is slung behind her, as usual, and her rifle (Collapse-era) is secured above it. Without the cloak to help obscure her silhouette, to lend a layer of emotional protection aswell as agains tht elements, she is... smaller, in some ways. Her normal frowning expression more troubled, her stature more slight.
She approaches Ruth in the open, but when she sees that she is meditating in silence, decides not to say anything. Instead she just... parks her butt on the ground, sitting crosslegged and visible clearly whenever Ruth decides to open her eyes.
There is fear and uncertainty rolling around in her thoughts for... all manner of reasons--of today, of Ruth, of her own magic, and as much as she attempts to hide them or keep them in check, she likely can't hide them from Ruth herself.
<Pose Tracker> Ruth Pauling has posed.
Ruth's eyes open as Zephyr comes down to perch, her healthier ear catching the sound of a bird touching down against the wall. Usually it's pigeons, that sometimes mistake her for a statue. Ruth's appearance could easily be confused for one if all trace of color were taken from herself and her outfit, with distinct likenesses to other statues of pious robed figures out there.
If her capacity for sensing fear and vulnerability could be likened to an opening eye, well, that metaphorical eye is wide open as Hannah comes within conversational distance. It is a sense that is a boon for knowing when one might be in need, as much as it is a predatory instinct that demands indulgence.
"Hannah?" Ruth asks aloud. She's not saying Zephyr's name, who is right there. (Rude! Of Ruth.)
"You're scared," Ruth adds, head bowed in order to avoid eye contact, "but you come to me." Ruth left separately of the others, ultimately, knowing full well Hannah already has at least two friends she knows and she presumes trusts. She'd have thought she'd be with Eleanor by now.
The former elf who can likely never be unseen as what she truly is now has a gentle smile on her face as she lowers her hands to her lap. "If you need company, I won't say no."
The distress of others is soothing in its own way. A fact others in the know find disturbing, no matter how pro-social the intention or overall effect of it.
<Pose Tracker> Hannah Curie has posed.
Zephyr is not offended. He is still skittish, of course, but both he and Hannah do realize what Ruth did for them earlier that day. So he's... tolerant, of her presence, for the moment. In truth, he's mostly there for Hannah, who is still very uncertain of doing this, but has resolved to do it anyway.
"Yeah," she says, in response to the questioning way Ruth says her name. She's not really attempting to hide her identity in this moment.
And a separate nod, when Ruth asks if she's scared, and this time her gaze drifts to the side. "... Yeah." This reply is quieter, and the waver in her voice speaks to her unease. But then she looks up to Ruth again. She came anyway... "I..." She takes a deep breath to steel herself. "... I wanted to talk. And to thank you."
That normally carefully cultivated speech that she considers her 'city' accent has mostly fallen by the wayside. That small town drawl that she normally hides is just barely present, and maybe she's just too tired from today to cover it up. Or maybe it's just one more layer of her defenses that she's letting drop, for the moment.
There is just a hint of a wry smile--just the barest of ones--tugging the corner of her lip as Ruth offers to keep her company. "Pretty sure that's supposed to be my line, since you're the one out here in the middle of nowhere meditatin'."
She's silent for a moment, trying to figure out how best to broach this subject. It's an awkward one, no matter how you slice it, and their first few encounters certainly didn't help matters much. She stares down at her lap, lost in thought for a moment before looking up again. "Look... can... can we just speak plainly? You've seen my magic, I've seen your..." The word 'monstrous' briefly crosses her mind but she rejects that outright. "... 'other' self." She says it in a way that makes it clear she is sincerely trying to be polite about it even if she doesn't knwo the right way to say it.
"... An' you've made it clear that you have an interest in me, so... let's talk."
<Pose Tracker> Ruth Pauling has posed.
'... I wanted to talk. And to thank you.'
From there, Ruth is quiet and - aside from the basic conceits of a living body's continued existence - motionless, letting Hannah say her part. Even the joke about how Hannah should be the one offering company to someone who has all but sequestered herself to the open skies and elements on her own.
More silence passes between them as Hannah gets to finding her courage and desire to speak plainly about what the others have seen of one another. Where Hannah speaks of the 'other' self, there's another detail that Hannah might find disconcerting - the strange miasma that surrounded the Hellion is completely absent. On a spiritual level, it's like all of that is just... missing, gone, undetectable within the confines of whatever metaphysical part of an individual it hides within.
The invitation to talk is met with a wordless nod without further commentary, as if willing to cede the ground to Hannah into what she wants to talk about and how.
<Pose Tracker> Hannah Curie has posed.
Hannah does notice that that spiritual miasma is missing, but... doesn't necessarily find it odd. Her own oddity of magic seems to have an ebb and flow to it, making itself know more in some circumstances but not others. The fact that Ruth was able to release this energy in the bar and then draw it back (or at least, stop its flow), suggests to her that there may be something similar at play for Ruth.
Her own magic is... mostly calm, at the moment. Her emotions aren't exactly calm, but while she is wary of the older woman, she isn't necessarily scared of her--at least, not to the extent where she would keep herself on high alert. Ruth did help save her life, after all.
(Even if today taught her appearances can be deceiving. But you have to start somewhere.)
She gets through expressing her initial thoughts, and what she gets back is... a silent nod.
That's fine. She can work with this. Ruth is interested, in some capacity, and if she's not ready to talk yet, then... Hannah will. She can extend that first little bit of trust.
She sighs a bit, a long-suffering one that speaks to the tiredness underlaying the tough exterior she tries to project. "... There's... something wrong with my magic." A spike of fear at making the admission, and the stirring of anguish at just how long she's been dealing with the problem fruitlessly on her own. She powers through. "Like somethin' taking it over, or corruptin' it, or... something. I don't know."
Another long pause. "It... causes my spells to act up. They go wild and out of control if'n I'm not careful." At this she looks up to Ruth, her voice barely a whisper. "I am scared of myself, my magic. What might happen if... if I can't keep a grip on it and it just lashes out at someone I never meant to harm."
There is a bit of a sickened shiver as she admits that out loud--it's so hard to admit, to speak the words out loud, even to Eleanor and Marivel previously. But somehow...
... she gets the sense that Ruth might understand. Or maybe Hannah just hopes she will.
<Pose Tracker> Ruth Pauling has posed.
Without context - and in fact, even with context - it is simple to dismiss Ruth as a monster. It might even be, technically speaking, correct to do so. And yet... here Hannah is now, coming before her, mustering her courage and willingness to be vulnerable and share her fears with someone who only a short while ago was a complete stranger (and a completely strange one at that).
There's something wrong with Hannah's magic, by her admission. Something Ruth intuited from afar the first time she ever saw Hannah. Her right hand goes to her left shoulder as she works out another of those chronic flare-ups of pain, but does not speak up over the pauses.
Like an unknowable thing is taking it over.
It's where Hannah looks up that Ruth has to avert her own gaze not to meet Hannah's own. The eyes of those scared, hurt, and afraid always draws out the worst of her - what could be misinterpreted as shyness is instead a mechanism to keep herself composed. She can't shut out the terror that drips between every spoken word of Hannah's confession. With only one good ear for hearing, Ruth has to anchor herself to truly hear the words that give context and shape to the fear that is otherwise blaringly loud.
"You should treasure that feeling." Ruth says as her right hand glides down from her shoulder to over her heart. "That's what keeps me from being who I was." A strange assertion! More than strange, possibly even upsetting, to simply say 'it's okay to be scared.'
Her fingers in her right hand curl as she feels her fingers brushing between one another uncomfortably. Not that there is pain between the fingers themselves, but just feeling reminded of her (completely ordinary, unironically and truly) hands.
"What I hold is something called Malevolence." Ruth explains, her voice soft but not that uncomfortable speaking. In the years she's started to get a better grip on herself, it's become something more comfortable and familiar for her to discuss. "It comes from Lunar... a world above us."
Rixia put a name to it, of some great evil, but Ruth withholds that for now as she lets her hand drift from her chest to her lap.
"It takes contradictions you feel in yourself, builds on it, gives it voice... and with enough, it overtakes you." This should sound far more horrifying, because it is by any measure! But Ruth's voice stays steady, measured. Her manner of speaking usually is soft, reserved. If Hannah's traveled in the Zoara region, Ruth's accent would mark her as being from Guara Bobelo, but there's a few terms and slang that occasionally pop up that come from somewhere else geographically - a place that no longer exists. (Hannah would be unlikely to recognize it, but it's Verklarung - a city destroyed in fire and light that led into the very end stages of the Celesti Civil War.)
Ruth's eyes close at this as she raises her left arm, chancing more shoulder pain.
"Those that are, are called Hellions." Formally introducing herself as something other than an elf, then, her expression that of outward measured calm. Deep on the inside, she never is. She lives acutely aware of her existence almost every passing moment. "Most Hellions give themselves to their Malevolence, to every last urge. Violence. Indulgence. No matter how much it hurts others."
With a wince, she reaches back to the rifle at her back - which is wrapped up - as a flare-up of sorrow-filled miasma emanates from her, but does not escape into the greater spiritual ecosystem of Filgaia beyond trace amounts.
"Or themselves."
Ruth draws her hand away, just as the coloration of her skin and hair comes at the verge of returning to what they truly are. The Malevolence sinks back into her form, left hand raised up and slowly lowered.
"For those of us who don't succumb... we hold ourselves for a reason," she says to Hannah as she opens her eyes and raises her gaze, not quite meeting hers. "If your sorcery brings you such pain and fear..."
"Why do you still wield it?"
<Pose Tracker> Hannah Curie has posed.
Hannah isn't terribly inclined to call Ruth a monster--at least, not while Ruth is acknowledging that they have something similar, that she is 'in good company', as Ruth finally put it at the bar. Because to do that...
She's scared of her magic, but she's not quite willing to go that far just yet.
Hannah doesn't force eye contact. She's seen Ruth avoid it before, and she doesn't want to make the other woman uncomfortable. (However much of an irony that may be, given what Ruth is.)
Ruth's assertion that she should 'treasure' her fear does strike her as odd, but at the same time... She drops her gaze as she considers it, turning it over in her head. She doesn't quite reach a conclusion, at least not one she vocalizes, but she is considering it.
But then Ruth starts speaking of Malevolence. She recognizes that word, now, having heard it recently. It doesn't feel like what she's got, but she listens anyway. She's looking in Ruth's general direction to show that she's listening, but avoiding eye contact as a courtesy. She would take notes, but... the moment doesn't feel right. So she settles for small nods to show that she's listening.
She draws in a sharp breath as Ruth names herself 'Hellion.' Just the name of it conveys an image, but she continues listening respectfully as she describes how they're formed, how contradictions take over... Destructive to those around them, or even... to themselves.
She blinks a little as Ruth poses that question. Her mouth immediately opens to answer, only to find...
She has no answer. She frowns and looks down again as she considers. "Because... I have to. I've been... trying to figure out how to fix it, 'n for that I need... to go places, I need to earn money to continue my research and... For some other things I have to take care of. Some people that are counting on me. And... I haveta protect myself. And Zephyr."
It's all sound reasoning, but... she does sound bothered by the reasons she gives.
<Pose Tracker> Ruth Pauling has posed.
Hannah struggling to answer brings Ruth back to the time where she couldn't answer the Trial Knight's own inquiry satisfactorily: what was it that she truly deserved? Whether she rejected being a monster with all her conviction, or embraced it outright - neither of which were damning - knowing what the heart yearns for was necessary.
There's a smile in that moment that doesn't belong to the collective mood at all, a little bit of teeth showing as her right hand goes up to her heart again while Hannah speaks about how she simply has to, and then...
Hannah articulates, gradually, from seemingly meandering towards the idea that 'some people' that are counting on her.
The silence may come off as judgmental, until punctuated with a nod of acknowledgement.
"Zephyr doesn't seem to fear you," Ruth speaks of the bird she hasn't given verbal acknowledgement to, as if this simple fact might have greater weight and meaning simply because an animal given the gift of flight isn't choosing to exercise it to get away from someone commanding - or being commanded by - an unknown corruption or other fantastical force.
"If you can't let go," Ruth's right hand drifts down to her lap, the left following... though that left hand clenches, "you have to hold on." Her head bows, and that strange smile has not gone away. With the admission of who she is underneath this, there's so many little things that might yet communicate to Hannah that there are areas where Ruth fails to pass as 'not a horrible sadness monster.'
(The lack of footwear at present might be another.)
The discordant smile is one of them. Her long gaze, for the split second moments eyes might meet, might be one of the bigger tells.
"Years ago, a heartless monster told herself it was worth killing hundreds of her own countrymen, no matter what burned, what was lost."
...Hundreds? That's not a small number, but there's nothing in Ruth's voice suggesting it's jest, but if Hannah can put two and two together with Ruth's given name and the rifle she's carrying, there's exactly one person that would fit that descriptor.
"Our world can be too cruel, for one bathed in Light." Granasian terminology. Their very black-and-white Light and Darkness views are well-known. "Giving yourself permission to be crueler to it in turn... you become less your name."
...
"The four knocks upon Death's Door will always be the lingering echo that haunts Zoara," so says the one, and only, Ruth Pauling in the flesh. One of the most infamous war criminals of the 480's, roughly twenty years ago.
<Pose Tracker> Hannah Curie has posed.
For Hannah she had a problem, and she needed to fix it. Everything else... kind of flowed from there. Or she stumbled into it. And 'fix my magic' has been the central focus of... everything for the last five years, to the point that if she starts letting herself think she can't find an answer, if there is no solution...
... Having Zephyr to focus on helps, in those moments.
Zephyr chirps curiously as Ruth names him. He's been keeping a wide berth from Ruth, but has been watching silently, letting Hannah handle the conversation on her own. Hannah looks to him.
"Well, yeah," Hannah says slowly, with a bit of the confusion that comes from having to say something that seems so obvious to her. "He understands me. Better'n anybody else. 'n I understand him, too."
Someday she's going to have to come up with a better word, because it doesn't quite capture her meaning, but... it'll do, for now.
She considers those words. And quietly, gingerly, she asks, "... Are you holding on, Ruth?" It's so hard to get a read on Ruth, sometimes, given all of her eccentricities, that she's not entirely sure what she expects the answer to be--or even which might be the better response.
Then Ruth confirms that she killed hundreds of her own countrymen, and... there is a look of not quite surprise. She had suspected, given what she had heard and observed. It is more... acceptance (that is, of the kind that is believing of the facts being presented. Acceptance of Ruth herself, as a person, will take considerably more time. Even if she's willing to extend the small iota of trust that she is.) But it all lines up. The first name, that sniper rifle, the crest magic, and the confirmation of hundreds of casualties of one's own countrymen.
The kind of casualties one might inflict in a war. A civil war.
"And what does she tell herself now?" asks Hannah, sincerely. She's not sure if Ruth will answer, so gives her an out. She's not asking Ruth directly what she thinks now, she's asking of that heartless monster--Ruth could feign ignorance or deflect the question, and Hannah wouldn't press the matter.
There is a short nod as Ruth invokes the Granastian terminology. She is... passingly familiar with some of it, but has not found any particular solance in religion for herself.
<Pose Tracker> Ruth Pauling has posed.
Zephyr keeping a wide berth from Ruth is well-advised - if Hannah's ever given a run-down on- or off-screen, it'll be stated that wildlife is susceptible to Hellionizing on the spot from exposure, becoming utterly violent, berserking beasts with only very few exceptions known. Something Ruth herself is cognizant of... but she's (exposure-wise, at least) safe to be near only so long as she keeps that particular curse inside herself.
'Are you holding on, Ruth?' A question worth asking. While Hannah was running high on emotion, she might have caught glimpses of a Hellionized Ruth moving with such unrestrained bloodlust and letting loose with inhuman hiss-filled shrieking. A frightful sight, even for those that consider her friend and ally.
And yet, someone Eleanor trusted explicitly as a champion to the Light in that moment.
"Even when it takes me through blood and tears," she says in response, looking to her Granasian rosary, and... to take Ruth at her word, she might have taken all the blood there can be from stones, and tears hewn from dry sand - and then some.
'And what does she tell herself now?'
Ruth's eyes close as she levels her lack of gaze to Hannah. Hannah is in the company of someone history paints - with all signs saying correctly - as a murderous, blood-stained fiend whose reign of terror may never, ever end. In Ruth's mind, it echoes so loud that she can never be sure if she would be saying it aloud or just confusing it for more of the venomous words that Malevolence drips into one's psyche.
...
"What I tell myself," which isn't what Hannah asks directly, "is that I'm no longer that heartless monster." Despite wielding that weapon with the same ferocity and skill, despite the clear weakness in her left arm that should make wielding that heavy rifle all but impossible to do. "That for the world's pain, anguish, and fear, for one who could only create more of it... I'll be worthy of that suffering."
Ruth's eyes open half-lidded. That's a contradiction unto itself. Can one be kind when their capability lies squarely in terror and violence? Can one atone the same way they damn themselves? It's circular, nonsensical, hypocritical thinking.
As is the lot of all Hellions.
"...It's not what you asked," Ruth admits. "But these are things that a heart never stops asking, when no other answer brings it peace." She looks away before she fully opens her eyes again.
"I meant every word I said before. If someone like me brings you no peace, that's fine. You already have a wonderful friend." Eleanor, and Marivel (so more than one!), and Ruth would already assume others with how so many seem to have accepted Hannah already.
<Pose Tracker> Hannah Curie has posed.
Zephyr and Hannah both help mind other, so hopefully Zephyr should be able to keep himself safe from any unwanted Malevolence or unwanted Hellionization.
(Which is just as well, because there's no telling what toll such a thing might have on Hannah herself.)
She has seen the trust the others place in Ruth--Eleanor granting Ruth her blessing is certainly one example, of course, but there are numerous others. Ida accompanying Ruth to talk to her in their first meeting, Ruth's presence with the other rescue party, (and her subsequent presence in the fight against Boomerang and Luceid). Or, more broadly speaking than just Eleanor's blessing, how her presence was taken in the fight overall by Dean and Eleanor.
But yes, if Eleanor trusts her, then...
She nods, accepting Ruth's answer bout holding on. That feels like the right answer, the one she keeps trying to reach for in he moments where she feels particularly tired, or despairing of ever making progress. Zephyr doesn't let her choose the other one, either.
She listens as Ruth both answers and does not answer, depending on how one looks at it, her follow-up question. It is true there is an awfully large leger in Ruth's past, and Hannah's gaze drops as she takes a while to consider it. Contradictions though there may be, the fact that she views herself as not being a monster, has friends and allies (some of whom she trusts very much, even) supporting her and accepting her...
There's a slow nod as she mulls it over and slowly comes to her conclusion. "... Okay." Is she really just... taking Ruth at her word?
Perhaps she is, at that.
Hannah shakes her head as Ruth comments about someone like her not bringing Hannah peace, "Don't go makin' assumptions, now. I... hmmm... how to put this..." She looks up to Ruth--or nearly at Ruth, trying to respect the latter's seeming discomfort with making eye contact sometimes. "What is it you want? Do you see... a kindred spirit, are you lookin' to keep me on the straight n' narrow, company from someone who might understand your situation?"
"I guess, what I'm tryin' to get at, is... Why did you reach out to me?"
<Pose Tracker> Ruth Pauling has posed.
'What is it you want?'
Ruth's silent through the questions Hannah appends beyond that in order to provide a better framework for why someone like her would care. Why would one of the most notorious war criminals of a generation find the heart to reach out to a frightened, uncertain young woman struggling with some undefined thing she lives in fear of?
To try and meet Ruth about as head-on as the Hellion would allow those hurt or troubled in times the violent urges are being held rather than indulged... both of Ruth's hands clasp in such a way her facial expression is hidden in a pious gesture while the moonlight glints off the religious bauble wrapped around the exposed right forearm.
"You're scared. You're suffering." Words of someone kind, though to see her in action against the Fangs, the level of violence put forth was completely unrestrained. It would have looked for all the world a sadistic thrill of someone who truly gave up on being anything but a frightful, murderous beast at heart.
Like a completely different person from who's sitting here right now, yet there is a professed continuity between these conflicting parts.
"I can't look away from that. No one with a heart would." The hands lower back down to her lap, still clasped, but revealing the neutral, measured expression on her face.
"...Even so," there's more! "I know all too well what it's like to find something that defines you, whether you had a say in it or not... and how much it consumes you."
Ruth reaches up with her right hand to let her hood down, the dull copper hair spilling out. It's longer than a sharpshooter ought to have. It gets everywhere! Even in the face! But, more importantly, the pointed ears of an elf - much like Eleanor herself. They're large enough she couldn't ever hide them with hair unless she did them up in buns, and even then that's a stretch.
Her ears are, interestingly, the exact same shape in her observed Hellionized state from the battle with Boomerang, Luceid, and the Fangs. (A trait shared with her hands.)
Those born as elves are considered blessings upon their families, their communities... everything the (recent) historical Ruth Pauling was /not/ in the Celesti Civil War. If you put her in a line-up with at least five of the most mutated, unsightly Beastfolk who receive their undue discrimination from circumstances they themselves did not select, it would be Ruth that would elicit screams of fear from those aware of her before anyone could take notice of the others. Even if at least half of the Beastfolk there were hardened criminals and confirmed murderers themselves and otherwise be worthy of such terror.
There's that smile at last, and the timing stands to be unnerving.
"It's selfish, maybe. But... I'd rather you not suffer alone for it."
Nor would Eleanor, or Marivel, or anyone else.
<Pose Tracker> Hannah Curie has posed.
Hannah waits for Ruth to reply to her... well, not quite 'a' question, but a sampling of questions around a theme. But however she puts it, she's just trying to get to the point.
Ruth says that she's scared and suffering. Not a question, just a statement. Hannah looks down at that, consider. There is the immediate urge to deny it, to rebuff the insinuation, to pull the metaphorical cloak around herself and power through, regardless of what anyone else says or thinks.
But as she told Marivel recently... she's tired. So very, very tired... and with everything that's happened recently, having to face the fact that she just didn't care bout anything in the Boomerang fight, beyond basic survival; to find out that she had let Eleanor think she was dead, surely a far more grevious harm than she could have caused by staying in contact; to see, frighteningly, a glimpse of what she might become in the Fangs if she keeps pushing people away... It's getting too hard to deny anymore.
She draws her knees to her chest and hugs them to herself. And she nods. "Yeah." It takes a lot out of her, to admit that.
But the mention of something that defines you, whether or not you have a say in it... That hits close to home. Far, far too close to home. Ruth can probably detect a noticable surge of anguish as she processes that thought. Quietly, she asks, "... Did you have a choice in it?"
She probably means the Hellionization, given the context. But she could mean the war criminal thing.
She looks at Ruth as she shows her ears. An elf... she thinks too, of how they're normally associated with being a blessing--how Eleanor's life certainly seems blessed at times. She doesn't know Ruth by sight, but with everything else she's learned, she doesn't need that at this point.
And then Ruth says it. What she wants is for Hannah not to suffer through it alone.
hannah rests her chin on her knees as she contemplates that. She is conflicted, in multiple directions. On the one hand, the urge to forego help, to do it all her own, to not be indebited to anyone just in case is still very strong and present. On another, this is a professed war criminal--who is also a hellion, to boot. She doesn't know a lot about them but she can't imagine anyone capable of such a transformation isn't dangerous in some degree, willingly or no. But on still another hand... spending five years by yourself (even with a red-tailed hawk for company!) is... lonely. It's a feeling she's only recently realized is there, one she's only just allowing herself to put a name to. And the ache is all the greater for having been ignored for so long.
She sniffs a little, and wipes something away from her eye with the back of her hand.
A small nod, and a weakly whispered 'Okay.' And then a moment later, she looks up to Ruth, nods again, and repeats herself louder so the older woman can hear. "Okay."
<Pose Tracker> Ruth Pauling has posed.
Ruth keenly feels that distress around Hannah, feeding into those monstrous senses that are always a threat to those mundane ones she still has. She's deaf in one ear, and has temperature sensitivity so greatly diminished as to be virtually nonexistent - even within the shell of who she once was.
That she professes kindness when she instinctively seeks this kind of vulnerability and distress is a contradiction she'll always have to live with, no matter how compelling a case she might put forth.
Her left hand clenches, a surge of pain shooting down from her shoulder from the tension as Hannah curls inwards into herself and makes that admission to release that much of her feelings.
'... Did you have a choice in it?'
Ruth shakes her head. "Most like me don't. I wasn't aware of what being a Hellion was until years after I awakened to my new life," Ruth explains. "For a few years... at first I thought I became a sort of Beastfolk."
That's its own set of cultural entanglements and a whole new can of worms.
...
The woman that's nearly three decades Hannah's senior (even if by the aging of facial features Ruth might come off as 'merely' two decades older) keeps a gentle smile as Hannah wipes something like a tear and comes to grips with the idea that someone, anyone, is willing to care for her suffering.
Even if it might just be a selfish desire to feel like there has to be some place, some way, somehow, for someone who has done nothing with their life but spread misery to be what someone so scared and uncertain needs.
"It feels... to cry, doesn't it." Not 'feels good,' or 'feels bad,' which is a strange subtraction in descriptive language, isn't it? Ruth's head bows, keeping her hands clasped and at her lap.
"If you're scared to go into Klein tonight, you can stay here as long as you need." Ruth says. There's a small span of silence, however awkward, before she speaks again as such.
"I'm sure Eleanor would be happy to have you at the Klein Manor." Words Ruth has to force out, however gentle.
One may be led to wonder if there might have been people in Ruth's life she regrets pushing away, if she's being so insistent on being a part of someone's low parts in their life.
<Pose Tracker> Hannah Curie has posed.
Hannah is, perhaps, unaware of what Ruth is perceiving of her emotions and espcially how she is reacting to it, but... maybe there'll be time enough to explain another time. There was a lot said already, and it might be best to let the new understanding breathe a bit before testing it further.
She nods as Ruth answers her question. "I see..." That's... well, that's not how most things work, really--her adoptive older sister is a beastfolk, so she's aware of a bit more ugliness of that part of the world than she might have been otherwise.
But still, there is something of that statement that still resonates. After a moment of silent contemplation she admits, "I didn't know at first, either. I..." She sighs. "I did go to Sielje. And I knew Eleanor then, too. I was doing well, but then... I started having problems with my magic. I didn't know what was going on at first, I thought maybe I was doing something wrong, preparing the crests wrong..."
She looks down. The fear and panic at the discovery are muted by the passage of time but still present. "There was an accident. I didn't cause it, but I made it worse, and after that I realized... it was my magic."
She just nods in response to Ruth's remark about crying. It takes her a moment, but... she think shse parses the meaning clearly. She may or may not cry further, but... she certainly got a lot out of her system when she reunited with Eleanor again.
She gives that offer some serious thought. "Might not stay out here all night, but... I could sit a spell. If'n you don't mind the company..." She nods, "Yeah... She..." She closes her eyes. "She thought I was dead, but... she took me back. Just like that. She weren't even mad or nothin'. Neither was Miss Marivel."
A beat. And a very quiet admission: "Kinda wish they would be though. I feel like I deserve it."
<Pose Tracker> Ruth Pauling has posed.
Ruth listens, diligently, with her better ear about how Hannah got to where she did. Another small part of resonance between them she doesn't speak out loud... she didn't complete her own sorcery schooling either. (As somewhat evidenced with how overly reliant she is on invoking the Muse quadrant.)
In a manner of speaking, there's something statue-like in the way Ruth's body language both seems to relax, but also tense, at the same time, head bowed with hands clasped at her lap as Hannah thinks of what her immediate plans will be in terms of passing the time until the next day - however that day will be, for either of them.
"I don't mind as long as you need it." On some level, Ruth is the one with a need, but it is nonetheless sincere a gesture. To just sit there in the ambience of sorrow and worry, and feel it gradually fade until such point Ruth would have to focus on the mundane concepts of sight and color to recognize Hannah may still be there if she stays that long.
"I can't say for either of them," Ruth says, gently enough.
"I'll be out here all evening," she states, which segues into intercepting what might be the most obvious question. "I don't sleep in a bed." Which all but implies she can, and does, tend to fall asleep just about wherever she feels like. Though, she holds herself from saying how while some nights she might close her eyes and have hours pass... whether she truly can sleep when a restless force goads her on without reprieve is another thing entirely.
Against all odds, and perhaps even logic itself, Hannah will be safe with her for as long as Hannah feels a need to.
<Pose Tracker> Hannah Curie has posed.
Hannah may not have completed her schooling officially.... but she did keep studying. If nothing else, she had to adapt her crest graphs to try and tame her magic. Arguably a useful problem to solve, but one she's solving for a total of one person.
She considers Ruth's offer... and slowly nods as she decides... "For a little while, then... Gonna get chilly without my cloak, but until then..." She plas plenty of sorrow and worry to 'give', at least.
She considers that statement about the bed. "Been on the road so much these past five years... it feels... odd, having a bed to go back to every night, or whenever I'm in the area." Eleanro's offered her that room at the manor, which she's been availing herself of, but... she still needs to work, the only way she knows how. She suspects that's not really what ruth is talking about, but... she's trying to relate, at least, as best as she can.
She picks herself up, dusts herself off, and then takes a running jump up at the wall, working to pull herself up onto the top of it where she then turns to sit, legs dangling off the side, positioned a respectful distance away from Ruth, but closer than she had been on the ground, at least.
She looks up to the night sky, looking at the stars twinkling, watching Lunar itself.
She always told herself she'd visit, but... never quite managed to find the time.
But after a long period of silence and introspection, she says... "Oh, and Ruth?"
"Thanks."