multiversallogs | → for which I have to howl.

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→ for which I have to howl.

Who: GG Giordano, Cliona Donovan
What: They're brought to Baedal together, a reunion somewhat marred by the fact that GG's sanity is apparently due to arrive a while after she does.
Where: An arrival room in the Valhalla Inn.
When: Coardi.
Notes: rrrrrr.
Warnings: Violence, blood, mentions of murder, nudity, probable foul language and discussion of torture. More TBA.

At least he's dead. Some people bring items to Baedal; GG, aside from a pile of dirty, sturdy clothes, brings a chunk of flesh in her teeth; the best part of a man's neck. So: she may be mad, she may be dead, may be captured, may have broken all of her own rules and done something terrible and horrible like she has always always wanted to and she may not regret it at all, but at least he's dead.

--is what GG will think later. Right now, she isn't thinking in words, but in smells and sights and feelings, flashes of instinct which cross paths in her mind and go straight to her paws.

This isn't where she was a moment ago. She took that bite and worried that flesh away, and then she couldn't hear him screaming, was tumbling, and landed- where?

Sight doesn't chime in as much as her other senses do, her hearing and her sense of smell, the fact that it's warmer here, wherever she is, wherever she's locked and whoever's taken her. She can smell people, so many of them, not all of them humans, in and out of this room all day long, their scents fading but distinct, cleaning supplies, she can smell fear and sweat and panic.

Somewhere in the backseat of her brain her rational thoughts are screaming Numen, Crisse, it must be Numen, how--

The wolf can't remember what Numen is, only that a) she is in danger and b) she is not alone.

The faerie smells like the earth after rain, with the scent of unwashed skin and hospitals and chemicals overlaid over that, an ugly mishmash of scents which she can almost see in streaks of orange and grey, sickly colours, on her tongue more than in her nose.

The same human rationale that knows what Numen is is screaming at the wolf, no no no no!

And the wolf, scared, whimpering, snarling, backed into a corner, does not listen- and springs.

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This is not where Clio was half a second ago. The cold metal operating table she was strapped to is replaced by a cold tiled floor, the cruel, impassive, sneering faces of the scientists is now a green ceiling and instead of the sound of their voices she hears a snarl.

Crisse.

There's no time to worry about how she got here, she just knows she has to avoid the wolf that's attached to that snarl. Fortunately for Clio, five months of captivity don't undo nearly six years of living in a state of constant readiness, and despite that face she's injured, groggy and scared, she forces her body to move. It drags a groan out of her, but she rolls to the side, avoiding the lunge of the wolf and gets to her feet as quick as she can, putting the table between herself and the creature that wants to eat her. There's nothing else she can do, her wrists are still bound with iron and there are no weapons. Maybe she can make it to the door before the wolf attacks again.

Oh, this is why she doesn't like hunting fae. Tricky things. They slip away from her and don't play fair like proper prey-

Nevermind. She's hungry. Hungry in a way that goes right down into her bones. And the low snarling hasn't stopped; it's ripped from her throat, frightened and ravenous and she still hasn't entirely caught onto the fact that Joseph isn't here.

She had been expecting that attack to last longer, after all. Had geared herself up for...well. Dinner. And hungry wolves don't adjust well to their dinner being...stolen.

But she knows, now, there's something wrong about this, that smell- it's not just fae, it's a particular fae. (It's prey- isn't it?) It's distant and hidden and a memory, but she knows...

She jumps right over the table, aiming to knock Cleo clean over- and puts a name to what she is in midair, or as close to a name as she can get just now; Clio's scent suddenly clicks in her mind, and she recognises her.

What she wouldn't give to be able to turn intangible right now. Wolves aren't as scary when they can't bite her, but this one right now can and there's no time for wishing and hoping - especially since her last wish seems to be what landed her here.

Tricky fae is a good assessment, though, because as GG jumps over the table, Clio slides under it, a move picked up from all those years of combat training. She doesn't get up fully again, more just throws herself at the door and praying to gods that don't exist that it will open. All that happens is her hands and shoulder slamming against the wood.

Edited 2012-04-18 07:03 (UTC)

She growls on instinct, dives under the table and stalks towards the fae- banshee- Clio. That's it, yes. Clio.

The steady growl stops.

The part of her brain which is screaming at her to stop is suddenly in tune with the rest of her, and it's howling Numen- and GG remembers, and finds somewhere in her head the familiar switch to throw, remembering and twisting and shifting to something more humanoid and still distinctly lupine.

Her half-wolf form is her most useful. It's also her most monstrous, enormous and uncanny and, currently, covered in blood.

But she can talk, though the first thing she does isn't that- it's to drag herself away, retreating for Clio's sake because she's still starving, still on all fours and moving back to crouch warily in a corner.

"Clio?"

Her voice is a distorted growl through canine teeth.

There's a very definite moment of stillness, between when Clio had been pressing at the door and thinking I don't want to die like this and when the feel of teeth in her flesh never comes. It's a moment that can be categorized as confusion.

The growling has stopped, and slowly, carefully (like this is a dream and if she moves too fast it'll break) Clio turns to face the wolf. The gasp that comes out of her mouth isn't fear, or shock, but rather recognition; it'd been too long and she was too scared to remember what GG's wolf form looks like, but she doesn't think she'll ever forget this. She nods dumbly at the question, at her name.

It takes Clio another moment to remember her voice, "Yeah, GG. It's me."

GG pants, shoulders heaving- she has a new scar she received in the attack on the estate, the fur over her left shoulder missing over the scar tissue. For a moment, she can't speak, doesn't know what to say, panic nearly sending her veering back into wolf form...

But she was second in command at the estate, first in command when Lea was taken, she reminds herself, and she can't lose control, not when Clio looks so- dreadful.

"Numen," she says, the word finally rising to her lips. "Are we-...?"

She wants to do something...normal for someone just reunited by a friend, wonders what to say, if she should hug her, but they aren't normal and this isn't normal, and there are things to deal with first.

Like those cold iron shackles, for instance, which make her cross the room before Clio can reply, suddenly furious- "Tabarnak! Hold still!" -and snatch Clio's wrists, wrenching the chain away with her teeth. One of the cuffs springs open, though the other remains. "Need something for the lock," she growls, though she's not above trying to gnaw it off.

It's trust, rather than fear that keeps Clio still as GG breaks the shackles. She knows GG wouldn't hurt her, now that the other woman knows who she is. Something like a shudder runs through her body as some of the iron leaves her; underneath there's a rash, her skin red raw.

"There's-" She looks around the room for something they might use to pick the lock - if they get it off, she might be able to go through the wall and open the door from the other side - but the pile of clothes, the two CiDs, pieces of paper and small leather bag (her locket is in inside, safe) don't make any sense to her. "I don't think it's Numen. This isn't familiar."

GG stares around with her, taking in what's around her in human terms rather than through the predator-prey focus of the wolf.

"I'll keep looking," she promises, releasing Clio's wrists and starting towards the table.

(No words on how Clio knowing Numen as familiar makes rage twist in her stomach).

She goes for the technology first, because- "Are these phones?"

Cell phones haven't worked in six years.

She picks up one and struggles, her hands clumsy. Another shift, then, fur receding into bare skin as her entire frame shrinks and she takes on a human appearance ignoring the fact that she's left without clothes; it's not precisely relevant, though she reaches slowly for the pile of clothing, eyes fixed on the screen of the CiD as it turns on and the network loads.

"Thank you," The sooner she gets the other cuff off the better, if only because it means she might be able to get them out. The fact it would feel better comes as a second priority.

Clio stands and follows GG to inspect the CiD as well, "They look advanced," Compared to the cell phones of 2006, especially with the video function on the CiDs, "I don't think it's Numen tech." Another piece of evidence to confirm her not Numen theory.

She doesn't seem to even notice the fact GG's naked now. Any hang ups Clio had about nudity left her five months ago. There's no privacy in the facility; her own flimsy hospital style gown doesn't offer much in the way of coverage.

"It's not a phone, it's more like a- computer shaped like one." GG sounds non-plussed. She picks up a shirt, recognising it as her own, and tugs it on, tossing Clio her hoodie before she starts pulling on the rest of her clothes. They're well-worn and not particularly clean, but such is life after the apocalypse.

If she's noticed the blood around her lips and on her chin, even smeared on her teeth, then she's not doing anything about it.

"Some kind of forum or chat site, I don't know. Christ, this is-" She pauses. Insane? Her life is insane. Dryly and truthfully, she says, "This is still better than 2006. What's in the bag?"

Clio catches the hoodie with ease and pulls it on over the hospital gown; she's still probably not decent by outside world standards, but it's better than nothing. At least it's warm in the room.

"There are people on it?" She'd look herself, but she's picking up the bag and peeking inside and it's this after everything else that's happened that has her choking up with tears.

"It's mine," Hands shaking, she tips the locket out into her palm and opens it to make sure the picture's still in there. It is, "I thought they took this..."

Her tone is a mix between disbelief, awe and confusion. If this isn't a Numen facility, how did they get the necklace she was wearing the night she got taken?

Edited 2012-04-18 10:23 (UTC)

"Yes," she says, rather quietly; yes, there are people on it. Out there. (Maybe). And they look- they don't look like they've experienced an apocalypse.

Someone's either very good at fucking with people's heads, or this is really happening. GG doesn't know which she wants to be real.

She glances up and sees the tears in Clio's eyes and the locket in her hand, and is shocked into not knowing what to say.

"...It's good to see you," she tries. It is. She feels like her sanity's peeling away, like this is probably some nightmare she's going to wake up from, finding herself in a reality ten times worse- but it's very good to see her. "Sorry I tried to bite you. I was...in the middle of something."

...clearly.

"Look, I don't think this is Numen either- no one grabbed me or drugged me, I was just there and then here. We'll--"

She breaks off, picking up the Burnworth pamphlet and staring at it in disbelief. "...the hell...?"

"It's good to see you, too. And it's alright," Her smile is a little shakey at the edges, but genuine and understanding - sometimes friends accidentally try to bite friends. The locket gets returned into the bag and slipped into one of the hoodie's pockets. She blinks away the tears in her eyes; there'll be time for that later, hopefully.

With her hands free, she's struck with the urge to hug GG, but isn't sure how that would go down, considering GG might still feel a little bitey. Not to mention there are probably more important things than hugs right now, they need to figure out what's going on. (Though it's a relief to hear GG doesn't think it's Numen either).

Head tilted slightly, surprised by the sudden break in the sentence, Cliona grabs the other pamphlet and quickly flicks through it, skim reading, "This can't be true."

Can it? Maybe they've drugged her and everything here is a hallucination, including her friend's presence.

Edited 2012-04-18 15:47 (UTC)

GG flicks through the pamphlet wordlessly, staring down at it with an inscrutable expression before she drops it and turns on her heel in a spin that's almost graceful, slamming her shoulder against the door, which is wooden and can't be more than a few inches thick, should splinter instantly and...doesn't. She gives a low growl of exertion and mild pain and rubs her shoulder, turning back to face Clio.

"It's warded," she says flatly. "Or made out of something I've never seen before. This-" She snatches up the pamphlet again and pronounces, with a snort, "-is propaganda bullshit. Reads like someone's trying to sell a used car. 'Congratulations are in order'- ostie." She shakes her head, running a hand through her tangled hair in a way that suggests she hasn't a clue how to react, looking suddenly tire. "Right. Ah...right. We need to get out first. Before anything."

Before what? She doesn't know. No thinking, just acting, she tells herself; no running in circles, just getting things done. But as she picks up her CiD she glances at Clio uncertainly.

"--You're okay, yeah? The bastards didn't-" Didn't what? Of course they did. They tortured her. GG knows what happens in those places. And she can see it, smell it, on Clio; she's thin, starved, and there's the faint scent of salt still. She shakes her head. "Come here."

She can seem stand-offish, but physical affection is actually something GG does well; she's very a physical, tactile person in general. And werewolves give the best hugs.

"GG--" She'd reached out a hand to try to stop GG - the door felt solid even to Clio's lack of supernatural strength - but she's too late to stop her and just winces sympathetically instead.

A nod, for the mention of wards and another for the propaganda, "If we can get the other cuff off, I can try going through."

GG gets a thin smile in response to the question, because of course they did and both women know that. Buy Clio doesn't hesitate at the come here; she all but throws herself into GG's arms, hugging as tight as she can.

"It was only superficial experiments," She answers the unfinished question. It's meant to be reassuring in it's own way - it was only superficial, they never cut her open to poke at her organs or brain and they didn't sterilize her, like they sometimes do.

GG wraps her up in her arms, conscious of how thin Clio is- though, she realises darkly, she's not faring much better. Since losing the link with the West End men, the estate has had to resort to raiding and stealing, scavenging what they can for food and other necessities. It's not a good way to live, or an easy way to live- especially not when you need the amount of energy GG does, and when hunger can cause you to just about lose your mind.

"What do you expect me to say- good?" she asks, voice very dry, not letting go of Clio.

Why do they live in a world where only superficial experiments are something to be pleased about? She nearly asks it, but decides against it; there are more important things to be getting on with. For one thing, they may not be in that world at all.

She hangs on for a few more seconds, though, before stepping back, lips pressed together, and giving a brief, terse nod, glancing back at the CiD in her hand and starting to scroll through more of the recent posts, looking at the cuff once more as they load. "Not sure I can break it without taking your wrist with it," she sighs.

"No," of course not, Clio might actually have scowled slightly if that had been GG's response, "But it means I'll be alright once I get this iron off and get some rest." At least physically, it might take her a little longer to get back on her feet emotionally, though she's coping for now.

The hug is too short, but Clio is aware she can't indulge in physical comfort right now, not when they're still stuck in this room, so she lets go.

"If only we'd gotten my clothes, there might've been a kilt pin we could've used," An attempt at humor, although it falls a little flat considering the situation. Clio picks up the other CiD and starts looking through the network, "Maybe we can call someone?"

The only problem is who. The people on the screen are strangers and Clio knows GG isn't inclined towards trusting those (neither is Clio, right now).

Edited (one day I will learn to proofread) 2012-04-19 03:04 (UTC)

GG glances up and gives a wry grin nonetheless at the attempted joke, looking quickly back at her CiD. "Maybe. Or if other people have ended up like this, we can see how they dealt with it. According to the leaflet, this is normal. Not that I trust-"

She goes silent, and very still, and then mutters something in Italian which sounds both disbelieving and distinctly blasphemous.

Rather than say more, she holds the CiD up, showing Clio the screen and Lea's face.

"What--?" What's wrong is the question that never gets finished, because suddenly there's Lea and Clio just - stares for a few seconds that feel like an eternity before she forces her eyes off the screen to look at GG.

"Call her." No hesitation, no questions or concerns; none of them matter right now. Hows and whys can wait for later, as can the concerns about whether or not this is real. She doesn't even know for sure if they can make calls on this phone, but they have to try.

Her memories of that night are fuzzy at best, but seeing Lea dragged away is something she doesn't think she'll ever forget and the taunts from some of the scientists - she's going to be his bride - are fresh in her ears.

Once Lea is at the door to the arrival room, she realizes, truly, what is about to happen. Since seeing the faces of her friends on the screen, she's been in a mad rush to pick up the clothes (a loose t-shirt and track pants, flat flip-flop sandals, nothing fancy but Lea has no idea what would fit both of them) and make it to the Inn, never stopping, never really thinking.

Outside the door, she takes a deep breath. She's not dressed in a terribly fancy fashion, leather leggings and a sweater and boots, still acclimating to the change in climate, and she's got the clothes she brought for Clio in a bag clutched to her chest rather than hanging at her side. She'd thought to bring food, but it might be better to get them back to her place and then tear into the bags of bread and similar that she has waiting. Carefully, pacing things, because she has a feeling they're in a place of starvation where too much at once might make them sick.

A quiet flash of hatred bursts through her, directed toward the people at home who just can't seem to stop fucking hurting the people she cares about. She quells it. Later, later. Always later.

With her hand, she knocks once, to let them know she's arrived. "It's me."

In French, of course. When the door swings open, now, it's using telekinesis, not her hands.

For some reason, those ten minutes seem to take longer than the entire four or so months since Lea was taken. Knowing that in minutes, seconds, she'll see her when she thought she'd never see her again (and she hadn't helped her, hadn't been able to- but she quashes that useless guilt as she always does) is almost painful. She pushes it back, concentrates on Clio, a hand at the small of her back as she tries to work out what to say, what she possibly can say.

She's crouched beside Clio when Lea comes in. Her head snaps up. "--oh thank God."

That thank God is some of the worst months of her life condensed into two words, her voice suddenly hoarse with feeling. There's a swell of emotion which is almost physically painful, and she struggles to know what to do because yelling I'm sorry or come here right this second isn't an option, and neither's leaving Clio on the floor, or just acting as if she's only relieved to see Lea because she's bringing an escape from the room and the supplies they need. As she opens the door, too, sensory information suddenly pours in from the outside world and she realises how intensely magically insulated the rooms much be. She runs a hand over her face, fingers tightening briefly in her own hair-

"Help," she chooses, which isn't auspicious. She's mainly talking about the cold iron still on Clio's wrist. She can come later, she's already decided; she's doing fine. Clio is the priority here. Clio's the one those bastards got their hands on. Though all in a rush, she ends up saying, "--any moment now I am going to wake up. Holy fuck."

Clio's reaction is a bit more subdued, both because she's come down from the brief adrenaline high and the cold iron on her wrist. But still, she looks up with a small smile, "Lea." And there's as much emotion in her tone as there is in GG's; relief that Lea is okay, that she's here to help and just - so glad to see her when she thought she never would again.

She wants to tell GG it's okay to go to Lea if she wants, but somehow she doubts anyone is going to listen to her right now. Instead, she just reaches out to put a hand on GG's arm, trying to silently convey that they are not going to wake up, that Lea is really here and things are going to be - better (not okay because she isn't sure that's a word any of them can use anymore).

The iron cracks open, in a sound that's probably pretty startling. It has been a while since they've seen Lea, so it's easy to forget how immediate and emotionally-driven her telekinetic powers are; at their most refined point, she can manipulate things at a molecular level, but right now she's in no shape to do anything of the kind. She just sees how thin GG is, then sees the iron on Clio's wrist and knows it for all that it does and all that it symbolizes, and she doesn't even think. Doesn't even try, really. It cracks open and falls to the floor not because Lea thinks this is going to happen but because of some instinct objects respond to in her when she's not entirely in control.

Like right now, when she wants to burst into tears and hug her friends, but won't.

"I just--" The words die on her lips. 'I'm sorry' can wait. She pushes the clothes at Clio, with her hands, not her power. "I brought you some things. I have a place to stay, we can go there right away."

"Good", GG mutters roughly, shoving the iron away when it falls to the floor as if its very existence offends her. (It does).

She's exerting a similar amount of self control, so much that she's trembling very slightly, though she can't really tell whether that's exertion or shock or even hunger, the constant gnawing pain- she'd planned to make a meal of Joseph (and what of it she wants to add, defensive even in her own mind) and had been interrupted; she'd have been fine, but she can still taste blood. So, she's shaking, though she tries to stop it.

Lea's alive. Clio's alive. She's alive. All of it feels completely insane.

But dealing with things is what they all do, by necessity or design. "Somewhere safe sounds perfect right now. Clio, are you--?" ...okay, able to stand, able to move?

It does, indeed, startle Clio a little, but that feeling is quickly surpassed by relief because it's off and while she isn't going to instantly return to normal, she does feel better. It's probably best this way, a slow recovery; being jolted straight back into her powers would've been overwhelming.

She takes the clothes when they're in reach (letting her fingers brush the back of Lea's hand briefly, in an attempt at reassurance) and pushes herself up to standing, "I'm okay," To answer GG's uninished question, and she quickly takes off the hoodie and hospital gown to pull on the clothes Lea brought. The gown is getting left behind, but the hoodie - once she's taken her necklace out of the pocket - is returned to GG, Clio's expression full of concern at how her friend is shaking.

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