milliways_bar | Two pups, two muns

Rae can tell these explanations are intended as comfort and reassurance in return, so she nods. All of it sounds good. To not be alone, but accepted and cared for. Supported.

("It's comforting, sometimes, to know that other people think of scary things, too. It only gets bad when they come up with something you've not thought of before.")

But Will does not look especially comforted. She thinks of his face as he impassively watched the caged bird on the table, thinks of the rules to a game shared secretly between grandmother and granddaughter, the answers one hopes to find by reading scary stories, and the dangers not easily shut away in a book.

"I... I hope it's enough," Rae murmurs. Suddenly and irrelevantly, she is sorry she ran, that first time they met.

Edited 2015-01-01 02:36 (UTC)

"It's better in your world, isn't it, Rae?" Dr. Lecter asks. "You at least do have people who help you with mastering your magic. Tell us, what did you learn lately? Or better still, show us?"

He smiles at her in encouragement.

Graham looks straight to Dr. Lecter.

"She doesn't have to."

Rae looks from one to the other of them, hesitant, a few drops of water splashing the floor from the mixing bowl she'd been drying.

"Oh, I... I hadn't been..." she begins, hesitating, her hands gripping the clean mixing bowl. "Since I've not been meeting with Gran, I'd not been practicing."

It is easier to say simply that she had not been meeting with her grandmother, rather than think of the entire family's very public disappearance. It had been mentioned on the news last August when it happened. Kids from magic-handling families had talked about it at school. Rae's mother hadn't mentioned it.

"It's... dangerous, anyway. Something might go wrong."

Or worse, she might get caught.

Edited 2015-01-01 19:35 (UTC)

"But you still have your magic," Dr. Lecter says.

The girl gives a slight nod, and a quiet, "Of course."

It has just been half a year since she had done any, or learned anything new.

He blinks away, and leans forward, and putting his face in his hands for a moment. When he lowers his hands, he's still watching the floor.

"We don't need to intrude, Dr. Lecter."

"Perhaps you'd like to try, to make sure?" Dr. Lecter says. "But you don't have to. We can just make ice cream instead, if you'd rather."

"I don't need to try it to know," Rae says, quietly, shaking her head.

('You can choose to be your mother's daughter in all things, but it must be a choice.')

"I'd much rather make ice cream."

Graham doesn't say anything.

He folds his hands, and looks back to Dr. Lecter.

"It's a pity you're no longer meeting with your grandmother," Dr. Lecter says, sounding concerned. "She must miss you -- and don't you miss her?"

He turns to the ice cream again, and stirs quietly.

Edited 2015-01-02 23:45 (UTC)

Rae wipes the dripping mixing bowl dry, not looking at either of them as she nods.

Yes, she misses her grandmother. Just how much can be heard in her voice. "It's been months since she called. Since before the Wars started."

Since her father stopped writing her.

Graham lets out a breath, blinking back to the floor. He doesn't need to see Rae, her voice lends enough. He doesn't want to look at Dr. Lecter.

"I'm sorry, Rae."

"I deeply regret to hear that," Dr. Lecter says. "War is never a good time, for anybody."

Rae nods, perhaps drying the mixing bowl a little more thoroughly than necessary before she reluctantly sets it aside. The Wars are scary on too many different levels for a child to adequately put into words. There are the scary stories passed around at school; the reminders from teachers and police and SOF to stay safe and obey the curfew; the overlapping sirens punctuating the night, leaving everyone lying awake in their homes, sleepless and afraid; the news reports every morning of new damage and new dangers, new numbers of dead; each day seeing one's parents afraid and trying to hide just how afraid they are; everyone she sees worried about their family's safety - worried about money, food, shelter. Everyone hurting. Everyone afraid. The Wars got into every nook and cranny of their lives.

With Rae left feeling irrationally that if only her Gran were there, everything might be okay. Or, at least, a little less scary. But that isn't something she can mention to her mother - it would only make her upset, and she worries so much, already.

"They're saying the Wars may be over before year's end," she says, trying hard to put hope into her voice. The girl is only ten, but already she's learning to put on the brave face, for when others can't manage it. "The global council, I mean. They're trying to set up talks with the Other leaders... to try and figure out what it would take to make peace."

Edited 2015-01-03 15:36 (UTC)

"That's..."

She knows he has some knowledge of her future; it feels impossible to weave a line straight enough to avoid it. But at the same time, he's still feeling loathe to let Hannibal be his social crutch. Graham lets out a breath, and makes himself look back to her.

"That would still be very frightening."

"You're most likely living in the kind of historical times that later get a chapter named after them in history books," Hannibal says, stirring his bowl. "Actually living in them is less fun."

The girl nods. It is mostly at Will, though she isn't look at him. It is extremely frightening. But they go on, anyway. They must.

She looks at the measuring spoons as she dries them one by one. "I think there will be. Whole books, even, written about the Wars. There's not been anything like them before, I heard."

"Though it doesn't really help, knowing that." If anything, it makes it worse. "I'd much rather live in one of those times you hear about in-between when things happen in stories - 'and the kingdom lived in peace and prosperity for a thousand years.'"

He tilts his head slightly, blinking away form her.

"It's probably healthier. To want something like that."

"Some people claim that living in interesting times is a curse," Dr. Lecter says, nodding. "It's at least not an asset for a well-intentioned baker or cook."

"Times interesting enough to make the history books are more'n'likely the bad times for the ones living 'em," Rae points out to Dr. Lecter. That sounds like a curse to her.

"They say if the War goes on longer than a year, they might have to start rationing food because it's gotten so hard to get everything where it needs to go. Charlie's worried about keeping the coffeehouse stocked."

Everything is scarcer. Everything is more expensive. Everything uncertain.

"An... everything was okay, before the Wars. Maybe not prosperity, but peace. That's enough." She'd settle for that, given the choice.

"Not everyone's like you, Rae."

His eyes stay down as he speaks. "Some people feel - unsatisfied during times like that."

"Satisfaction stems from being able to do what one likes and does well," Dr. Lecter says. "There are people who do best under tense circumstances, who like fighting and risking their lives, or merely reporting terribly desperate news. Of course there should be outlets for them in peacetime as well so they don't start wars out of boredom."

The girl looks at them now with faint concern and consternation, remembering they do not come from her world, and don't know the Wars. They don't know. A shudder runs through her.

"Vampires started the Wars, because they were unsatisfied with not being allowed to freely kill people and drink their blood."

"I'm okay with them staying unsatisfied," Rae says, solidly. People - living, human people - want them unsatisfied. "Satisfied vampires means people dying. Horribly."

Edited 2015-01-04 17:28 (UTC)

Graham lowers his head, and nods to Rae.

But without looking up, he asks, "What kind out outlet would you suggest for that, Dr. Lecter?"

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