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Well, that really wasn't fun. Rae supposes she couldn't truly expect the weather to hold off for a little thing like her fighting for her life, but it would've been nice if it had been a little more considerate, you know? Con had been impervious to the icy rain - of course he had - but Rae's experience had been a little more... well, human. Her fingers, slicked with blood and exposed to the elements, had soon gone numb and clumsy. It hadn't been an easy night. When they had returned to her apartment, her only thoughts were of the hot shower she was about to have. The three hot showers she wanted to take in succession, and the long, soaking bath she wanted directly after, and the twelve hours or more of sleep she wanted after that. So what if that would put her waking up around sunset tomorrow.

But the door to her bathroom, of course, has other ideas.

Rae shuffles into the bar today, exhausted, soaking wet, and shivering. Her black sweater and sweatpants cling to her, sodden and still dripping as the ice melts. There is ice in her hair from the sleet that had gotten caught in it, and she smells of cold sweat and blood. The melting ice and rain may have washed much of the blood from her, but some of it remains, and the scrapes and minor injuries that show where her sweater has been torn still bleed sluggishly.

"Unnnnnngh," Rae makes an exhausted noise of complaint in her throat as she sees where she is. She hadn't been expecting Milliways. Now she has an entire set of stairs to climb before she can reach her shower. Why so cruel, universe?

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Of course she asked. He is her dearest friend in Milliways. And friends keep up with how their friends are doing.

"I come here to catch up, and you go home to catch up," Rae murmurs wryly, sipping the tea again. "I've been.... mostly all right. Things have been relatively quiet, this season, at least around New Arcadia. This tonight was in a small city some fifty miles south of New Arcadia."

"I get... distracted here," he admits, and then hastily adds, "which isn't a bad thing at all. People here are fascinating."

He tilts his head, trying to double-check the math on that. "So you had to drive out to a fight"--ah, and there he's stopped dancing around the topic, accidentally--"and back? That's quite the distance."

The boy frowns again, thinking on Master vampires and their building up gangs. "I'm sorry about tonight, but I am glad you've had relative quiet. Have you had much success with teaching the others about an alternative lifestyle?"

"Aheh," she chuckles slightly, into her tea. "Not... driving, but traveling all the same."

It's complicated.

"Each time, some of them seem to listen, and some of them don't. Thing is, there's no really easy to way to see if we're having an impact. Those that don't want to listen tend to then try and stop us for good. So, who knows if the fewer attacks are because of the ones who are listening, or because there are simply fewer vampires in the area?"

"You're right about people here being fascinating. Have you been writing any?"

Autor stiffens. "No," he says. The boy curls around his family's tea, erecting a brittle, defensive shell. Then he blinks, as if realizing where he is, and shakes his head.

"Er. Sorry," he says, dropping his chin and adjusting his glasses, nearly sheepish. He crosses to a nearby stool to lean against it. He drops his voice to speak again. "I've been writing dossiers," he says, "but nothing else along those lines."

He drains his cup, glad for the burn. "So there's been no more incidences of dry-guying that you know of?"

"No, none that have made it on the news," she murmurs, letting his reaction to his question pass with little more than a slight raising of her eyebrows.

"I just ask because I found a quote in a bookstore the other day that made me think of you."

Autor watches her face and feels his heart drop into his stomach. She thinks I'm paranoid, and here I am giving her more evidence. Good job!

"Oh?" he says. "What's that?"

"'To learn to write, you must write. The water won't flow if the tap isn't turned on.'" Rae recites, softly.

"Rae," Autor says just as softly. "I have novels upon novels that I want to write, but I can't... I can't yet. And I have to be careful; writing is dangerous."

"Yeah, and so is magic-handling," Rae replies, equably. He knows it is. He sees its affects on her. Sees what it requires her to do. "Inherited gifts are fun, aren't they?"

It's only slightly bitter.

"But Autor, my grandmother taught me a little about my gift when I was young, before it flowered, so that when it eventually did, I'd have a handle on it. So I'd have at least some understanding of what to expect. And I still practice, so I'll know how to use it to get me out of trouble when I need it to, and not into trouble."

"You should... write. Practicing writing. So that when you begin to Write, if... if you still plan on what you plan to do... then you'll have a firm foundation to build upon."

Autor squeezes his eyes shut--they sting--and opens them again with a creased brow. "You don't agree with me," he says. "And yet you still support me in the means?"

He shakes his head. "I don't..." he trails off. The boy wants to say that he doesn't understand, but he does; she laid it all out clearly. He does understand--but doesn't know how to feel about it.

"Thank you, Rae," he says, and straightens from his lean to stiffly bow. "I'll... think about how to practice this."

"On this, you're right," she answers lightly, very nearly reaching out and squeezing his hand with her own. "I don't agree with you, and that won't change. But you are my friend, and I care what happens to you, and what you do."

She would rather he know what he's doing, if he's going to do it. To change the world in intentional ways, rather than bring the world to ruin by accident because he had no control over his own gift.

"I would have thought you'd try to convince me to not go through with it," he says, with a crooked smile. But it fades quickly, as he folds his arms and looks away.

"I'm a little... I didn't expect you to bring this up again."

"I've tried that in the past," Rae says, with a faint but exhausted smile, though her Dark Sight follows the shifting shadows upon the curve of his mouth.

"Didn't work so well. And you said you had work to catch up on."

Autor hunches his shoulders unconsciously, feeling wrung out, and irritated at that.

"Yes," he says, clicking his teeth together once. "I just... didn't expect anyone to comment on it, is all. You're the only one who knows and sometimes I forget."

The boy peeks at her, and then the floor, and then at her again. "But you think I can do this?"

Edited 2013-12-14 09:54 (UTC)

"I think you have the capacity for it, and the drive," she nods slightly, tired. "But, like any skill, I would think it'll take practice to cultivate."

~~EXP points are what raises one's level, after all.~~

Autor draws himself up, back straight, shoulders back. "Thanks, Rae," he murmurs, "for the support. For being my friend. I'm not sure how to practice, but I'll... I'll try."

"You look exhausted," he says. "Can I get you another towel, or more tea?"

Rae smiles slightly. "You're welcome, Autor."

"I think... I'll finish this cup of tea before trying my luck with the stairs. I want a shower. Or, like, three of them. In a row."

"Yes, of course," Autor says, eyeing her half-empty cup, and casting about for ways he can support her in turn. "I assume Con is all right?"

"Con is... Con," Rae murmurs, tiredly. "He's fine. The weather didn't phase him any more than anything else does."

"That doesn't seem quite fair," he says, pursing his lips. "The limits of being human. But I'm glad you're"--uninjured is the wrong word--"well, I'm glad you're here to warm up, anyway."

"He's a vampire - of course it's not fair," Rae chuckles, blinking drowsily.

"I'm... I was really looking forward to my shower. But I'm all right with having ended up here, too. I get to see people I care about," she smiles slightly. "And I can catch up on my sleep for a few days."

"You can catch up on showers, too," Autor says, matching Rae's smile with one of his own. "Hey, I'm thinking of making croissants for a Happy Hour, after I get back. Would you mind helping me in the kitchen again?"

The thought of catching up on showers makes her laugh.

"Mind? I wouldn't mind at all, Autor," she smiles. "I'd love to help."

Autor beams at her, happy to hear her laugh. "I'd really appreciate that, Rae. I'm planning to fill them with different things and hand them out randomly, so people get a surprise in each one," he says. "Your advice on what fillings wouldn't compromise the structural integrity of the pastry would be really helpful."

He nods sagely. "Plus it's been a while since we've cooked together, and that's always fun."

"I'll say - it's been entirely too long," Rae agrees. "Those first croissants seem ages ago."