[she's carrying the coat very carefully as she makes her way to the laundry area. she's still a mess, she hasn't like... brushed her hair or showered after trial so she's just kind of sullenly walking here.
she looks very tired when she spots viola, but she manages a very small smile.]
[sweet beau!! viola smiles back, weak as it might be]
... hi.
[and she'll offer both her arms out - one so that she can carry the coat very carefully as well, and the other with her palm up so that she can hold beau's hand if she wants]
beau hands her the coat, and also takes the hand offered. her hands are all gross and burned but it's fine.]
Thank you. [she says, roughly. a beat.] Don't let me forget to -- this is, hah, this is fucking morbid, but we have to write a will if we want to leave things for people, right? Don't let me forget to do it.
[that's okay, viola will hold very lightly but gently tug further into the laundry room. she's good at everything so that means being very good at getting decapitation bloodstains out. she probably has a bunch of those miracle home fixes like baking soda and lemon water or whatever
though she tenses ever so slightly at beau's words]
I won't. [because she understands the importance but...]
... but please fight to stay here and stay well with everything you have.
No, I... I understand. And I'd rather not he have to pay for it either...
[ . . . she'll gently pull her hand out of beau's so that she can start working on cleaning molly's jacket of blood. keep her hands busy, and maybe hide that she was starting to hold on a little tighter unconsciously. it's also easier to speak when she's working on something else]
... I just don't think anyone wants to think about losing you, Beauregard. I know I don't.
[beau's going to sit somewhere because she is made of burns and frostbite]
I know. [deep breath.] I don't, uh - look, I'm not really looking to die. I'm actually - hah, I'm actually not ready to, for the first time in a long time. I've got so much shit I want to get back to.
Yeah. [a beat. can npcs memshare wow] We're - in the middle of some heavy shit right now, but we'll make it.
I have Yasha to go back to. And... all of them. I want to fix the shit that's wrong in my world. I think I have the power to. All I want to do is go back and make sure people weren't - that they aren't fucked over by people in power.
... Yeah, we've got a pretty like-minded group, huh. That's my goal.
[and:
you're in bed - in your room, in kamordah. you've lived here your whole life. you're nineteen? twentyish, and you've never really felt like you belonged here, in this big, fancy house, in this big rich life. you've never fit into the mold you were supposed to. and you're never enough, so you try to make something of yourself. you do it because it makes you feel alive, because stealing your father's wine and selling it on the black market gives you a fucking rush like nothing else does. but tonight, you're half asleep, and you're thinking about how much trouble you're going to be in tomorrow, because the bail was pretty high, and --
suddenly and without warning you're being yanked out of bed, dragged out by the hair by figures in blue cloaks, hooded and shadowed. you start shouting, curses and threats and insults and hey! mom! MOM! as you're yanked down the staircase, and tossed into the main foyer. nobody answers. the house is silent.
in front of the door, a tall man in a suit stands, expression tight, arms behind his back. dad, your mind supplies. you instantly realize something is wrong. he's expecting this. he doesn't move, and you pick yourself up off the ground, fists clenched, to do the only thing you know how to do these days. you start to swing, but one of the cloaks grabs you by the arm and keeps you still, even though you shout.
what the fuck! what are you doing? you scream in your father's face, and, without warning, he backhands you.
it doesn't hurt so much as it shocks you. you stares up at him, tears born from mostly anger burning hot behind your eyes, and he says, We're sending you away. You have much to learn, and we can't hold your hand any longer, Beauregard. The Cobalt Soul will take it from here.
the memory fades with you being dragged out of the house.
and on it's heels there's another sharper, thudding memory that slams in - an austere, bald elven woman rearing back her fist and punching you in the face, sending you to the floor.
Are you listening, now? she asks.
Do I have a choice?
Let me be your teacher.
Boy, is that what I have to look forward to?
No. But what do you want to do now?
... I kind of want to fucking punch you back.
Then do it.
and the memories end! beau kind of just. closes her eyes.]
[oh. it startles her, steals her breath from her lungs. she - is still so painfully careful with molly's coat, hurriedly making preparations so she can leave it to soak for a moment just so that she can whirl around to face beau. she doesn't maintain her expression, letting her anger and indignation show clearly.]
How—
... Beauregard....
[she reaches out then, to brush against beau's arm]
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she looks very tired when she spots viola, but she manages a very small smile.]
Hey.
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... hi.
[and she'll offer both her arms out - one so that she can carry the coat very carefully as well, and the other with her palm up so that she can hold beau's hand if she wants]
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beau hands her the coat, and also takes the hand offered. her hands are all gross and burned but it's fine.]
Thank you. [she says, roughly. a beat.] Don't let me forget to -- this is, hah, this is fucking morbid, but we have to write a will if we want to leave things for people, right? Don't let me forget to do it.
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though she tenses ever so slightly at beau's words]
I won't. [because she understands the importance but...]
... but please fight to stay here and stay well with everything you have.
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[that's genuine, at least.] I just - don't want it to end up like, I'm dead, and he doesn't have anything left of me. That's all.
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No, I... I understand. And I'd rather not he have to pay for it either...
[ . . . she'll gently pull her hand out of beau's so that she can start working on cleaning molly's jacket of blood. keep her hands busy, and maybe hide that she was starting to hold on a little tighter unconsciously. it's also easier to speak when she's working on something else]
... I just don't think anyone wants to think about losing you, Beauregard. I know I don't.
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I know. [deep breath.] I don't, uh - look, I'm not really looking to die. I'm actually - hah, I'm actually not ready to, for the first time in a long time. I've got so much shit I want to get back to.
... I'm gonna do my best to be okay.
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[softly, even if she's still a bit scared over just how much loss and risk winter has seen over the past week.]
... will you tell me what you want to get back to? More about the Mighty Nein?
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Yeah. [a beat. can npcs memshare wow] We're - in the middle of some heavy shit right now, but we'll make it.
I have Yasha to go back to. And... all of them. I want to fix the shit that's wrong in my world. I think I have the power to. All I want to do is go back and make sure people weren't - that they aren't fucked over by people in power.
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but she looks pleased with this, smiling]
... I understand more and more why everyone in Winter Dorm has been grouped together. I love that, Beauregard.
There's an awful lot to be fixed, isn't there? But I think with your skill and perseverance, the world is just waiting for you to shape it.
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... Yeah, we've got a pretty like-minded group, huh. That's my goal.
[and:
and the memories end! beau kind of just. closes her eyes.]
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How—
... Beauregard....
[she reaches out then, to brush against beau's arm]
You deserve so much more than that.