CLOSED. don't ask what happens when the curtains draw.

[tropfatale]

Who: Megan Gwynn & Sonja Garin.
What: Sonja brings Megan the antidote, and later, an explanation.
Where: Megan's place.
Warnings: Discussion of sexual assault, suicidal ideation, Sonja's very existence, at least narrative thoughts of violence.

There are probably many, many people in Baedal better-suited to going to speak to a young woman who has been violated by magic in a terrible way, to explain to her what has been done. Unfortunately, the only person in the city with the necessary knowledge to create an antidote is one of the least qualified counselors around, and she knows it, too; she doesn't let herself become awkward because that's not her way, but when she turns up on Megan's doorstep (in her leather pants, crop top, and leather jacket), she's got a tension in her shoulders. Admittedly, some of this tension is to do with wanting to beat Hilmi with a sack of hammers, but she's trying to quell that until later.

She knocks at the front door. While she's aware that Megan might well be too far gone to answer (she doesn't know what the time frame is like, that's the problem--none of them know as much as they should), she figures she ought to do this before trying to break in like a total maniac. That's restraint, right?

Fuck it. She wonders if she should just castrate the guy after this.

Comments

[tropfatale]

She pauses.

"Yeah." That sounds too favorable to Hilmi, so she decides to elaborate. "Somebody gave him a little bit of a reality check before I got back, seemed like. He was a wreck."

And Sonja appreciates that headfuck Hilmi received prior to her return, even if she sort of sees it as softening up the meat before she cuts into it--if that sounds like an unnecessarily vicious turn of phrase, it's still perfectly accurate in terms how Sonja's mind works. She's not really looking forward to disciplining him, but she won't be satisfied until she's certain he's learned the lesson she wants him to understand: don't ever do this again.

[gwynn]

That someone has already done something about it has completely escaped her notice -- to be fair, that's probably not something Jae is dying to share with her -- and, yeah, it upsets her. This isn't the first time some guy has beat up another guy over her, and it doesn't make her feel any better. Maybe it should. She should feel better that he's hurting, too. "Oh," is all she can manage.

She has the strong desire to find her purse with her cigarettes (among other things), but that's downstairs, and she isn't going anywhere except maybe to crawl to the opposite end of the room, to the proper bed there. Eventually. She does pick up her CiD, she'll call someone... eventually, after she's sure that she can hold herself together, she's not going to let anyone watch her cry. "Um," she adds, after a moment-- "Thanks." It's completely inadequate (eventually fatal still rattling around in her head as it is) but what the hell else do you say in a situation like this? That she's talking at all is a lot of effort, right now.

[tropfatale]

The thanks is a little surprising, though she supposes it shouldn't be--when you run out of words, you revert to those formalities, the structure of how social interaction is supposed to go. There's another lingering pause, and then Sonja nods, in acknowledgment.

"I'll be around." Not that she really expects Megan to contact her, but she leaves the possibility open. (Did she even give her name? Oh, well.)

She leaves.