Logs:Pieces of Our Souls
Pieces of Our Souls
|Characters:||Seraphine and Jeunesse|
|Summary:||Two monsters accidentally meet.|
After the most recent customers escape the shot, Jeunesse weaves her way in behind them, quiet on her feet and at least attempting to be unobtrusive--if not overtly trying to sneak in. She stops at the entrance, looking over her shoulder in the direction the customers went for a few moments before looking over the kitschier products near the entrance. She pays them a lot more attention than they're worth, seemingly fascinated with a trinity candle. She picks it up in hands with slightly too-long fingers, lifting it to her nose. She turns around, still holding it, to investigate the rest of the store, and when her dark eyes fall on Seraphine at the tarot table she drops the candle loudly on the ground. "Oh, I'm sorry!" She crouches to pick it up, staring at only the candle.
Seraphine notices that woman enter, as she's pretty astute and knowing who is where and when in her store. She watches and frowns as the woman drops the candle, not that she really cares, it's all junk after all. But she's probably a drunk tourist, just escaping the day heat and taking a break from bar hopping. Mardi Gras is almost upon them, after all, so she's pretty used to it. "Did it break?" She wonders idly as she stands to go help the girl. "Here, don't touch it if it's broken, I don't want you to get cut... wow, your fingers..." The last part just sort of fell out of Seraphine's mouth. She shouldn't have commented, but they're just so long! She then looks at the woman's face and recoils back ever so slightly. She just gets a kind of creepy vibe off her.
"I don't know. I, uh, I don't think so." She does not do as instructed, and instead continues to investigate the candle, looking for any signs of it being broken. The comment about her fingers gives her pause, however, and at that moment she hands the candle over and crosses her arms over her stomach, hiding her hands beneath them. She does not smell like alcohol, but that doesn't mean she isn't innebriated. For a moment, Jeunesse does not look back, but then she turns to stare at Seraphine, unblinkingly searching her face. She presses her lips together and then upnods with her chin. "Do people with unusual characteristics always cause you to act like that?" She sets her jaw, and then sats, "Seems hypocritical."
The woman's words bite back hard, and Seraphine is instantly embarrassed and regretful for her comments. But she's more intrigued by her ability to see to Seraphine's mien. What /is/ this person standing in front of her. "I... uh..." The Darkling feels her porcelain face, wiping away the tears that never, ever stop. "I'm so sorry. But..." She pauses at this moment and teeters on the fence of going down this rabbit hole or not. Finally she makes her decision. "...but how can you /see/ what I am? What are you hiding? What are you exactly?" She can't see her for a vampire and is at this moment now afraid for what she might be? Loyalist? Gentry? Who knows!"
The shifting attitude does cause Jeun to relent her more combatative position, but she does not necessarily let her guard down. She flicks her eyes past Seraphine, investigating the rest of the shop while still watching her, but now instead of studying the merchandise, she looks for paths of potential departure. "How can I not see you?" she says in a whisper, seeming to acknowledge the potential secrecy of their discussion, despite being alone. "You're just there. Of course I'm hiding. I can't have anyone seeing /me/. That's dangerous. It must be dangerous for you too. Why aren't you hiding?"
<spend> Seraphine spends 1 (-1 points) of their Glamour pool, for hiding her mien.
Seraphine lowers her voice as well, as now the woman has made her feel like a fugitive with her whisperings of hiding and danger. "I.. I like, forgot to do it. I am usually hidden though." And in fact, as they are speaking, Seraphine closes her eyes, concentrates and suddenly appears as a beautiful if gothy 20-something girl. She opens her eyes and she appears 'normal' again. It actually may have been dangerous to do that in front of the girl, but Seraphine is flying a little blind here. "So, what are you? Should I be afraid?" She asks curiously. "I mean, I'm not going to hurt you, so you don't have to worry about me."
Jeunesse watches as this change takes place, unblinking--in fact, she hasn't blinked since she decided not to shy away and instead watch the other woman. She also, noticably, seems to forget to take any breaths. She might be holding her breath, but she has spoken, and continues to do so: "I don't know if you should be afraid. Of me? I don't know. I'm made to make fear--or something like it--but I'm made to scare the children of God--and I don't know if you're that," she leans forward slightly, her nostrils flaring as she sniffs the air. "I didn't come here to find you. I didn't come here to hurt you. I came because I needed a very specific kind of rosary. I didn't come for you. What are you?" It is probably painfully obvious that she has ignored the same question twice now.
Seraphine swallows hard as she starts to notice, more and more that she doesn't blink and doesn't breath. "You're dead aren't you. Undead. Like Bast. Like Buster. Like Fen... You're a ..." She stops short of saying what she thinks, and only because she's had some experience with her potential kind and knows how secretive they are. "Child of God? I went to catholic school before I was abducted. Does that count?" Sera cants her head and curiously watches as the woman sniffs at the air near her. "I'm a Lost. A faerie..." She goes on to explain. "And you don't want to bite me." It's almost more of a threat than anything else. "My blood will do bad things to you. I've heard it so. By the way? I'm Seraphine. It's nice to meet you..." She almost offers her hand, then thinks better of it.
As if on cue, Jeunesse takes a breath, and then begins to breathe regularly--it is well-practiced. She does not, however, blink, and her dark-eyed gaze focuses on Seraphine, her eyes narrowing when she names herself. She lifts her chin again, though this time it is more defensive than otherwise. "Does it count? A fairy?" She stops herself, and then considers. She also does not offer her hand--both of them remain tucked beneath her arms, hidden, so that her fingers cannot be seen. "I'm Jeunesse. It's an absolute pleasure," the last is stated with a touch of wariness that concedes that the pleasure may not be /absolute/, "Someone kidnapped you from church?"
"I was abducted yeah, but from a park, not a church. I just went to school at a church." She tries to explain. "Do you know what Lost are?" Seraphine isn't at all sure why she's confessing these things to a perfect stranger. A stranger who Sera thinks could rip her apart as easily as anything else. "Lost or Faeries are created when we're abddducted from this world, and taken into another world called Arcadia. A Keeper holds us hostage and usually bad things happen. We come back and we're changed, possessing strange magic and contracts. I don't really remember what happened over there. I know I cry all the time so it has to be sad. Or scary."
"We're strange, aren't we?" Jeunesse asks, leaning a little closer--though not necessarily looming. While it is true that Seraphine is absolutely the smaller of the two, Jeunesse is all length and bone. "We cry when we're sad, when we're scared, and also, sometimes, when we're overjoyed." She reaches up then, revealing her hand again, almost absently, to stroke the back of her earlobe. "I don't know Lost Fairies," Juennesse admits, after the explanation comes. "Except now, for you," she seems quite willing to entertain the idea, which, of course, if she is what Seraphine guesses what she is, not at all that far-fetched. "It sounds like you went through hell...and came back. All the stories tell us no one comes back from that. You must feel certainly blessed to have been able to come home."
Seraphine nods her affirmation of the crying situations. She understands, mostly. The breathing again makes her slightly doubt her original consideration of what Jeunesse might be. "Are you? A vampire? My boyfriend 'Bast' is one too, and his best friend. That's the only reason I know, and suspect." She leaves that at that. And then she nods again. "I am grateful. I'm truly blessed that I made it back. But even here the Gentry plague me. They put an imposter in my place after they took me. She's a fetch; a perfect replicate of me, except she not /quite/ me. But she lives with my family, so it's impossible for me to be reunited with the ones I love because of that fetch. I'm going to have to kill her." Seraphine confesses.
Jeunesse continues touching her earlobe, and breathing in well-practiced fashion. She listens to the story, putting the ideas together, even ifn they are somewhat foreign in nature--she works hard to relate. "I understand what you're saying. That sounds like a terrible thing to experience, and I am sorry that you did. You also seem to be defiant in the face of what has been done to you. Most would be deafeated." She presses her lips together, the smallest of a wrinkle at the corner of her lips betraying a restrained smile. She still stares. "Do you think killing this...replacement...you would make you feel whole again? Then you could go back to your family?" She dodges the question about her nature again, though not necessarily deftly. Her eyes are calculating, and certainly she's considering how to answer.
"I guess I am defiant. That little whore stole my family, and my life. For seven years she enjoyed everything that was mine while I was hurt somewhere. I don't know exactly what happened there as only bits and pieces of it come to me now and then in my dreams." She sighs. "I will try to go back to my family after I dispose of her. But she isn't quite me, and I'm afraid my family will think "I" am the imposter as I won't act the same as her. Anyway, that's for me to figure out. I'll make it work somehow." Seraphine then realises that she has been continually thwarted at her attempts to identify Jeunesse so she takes a different approach. "Jeunesse. That is such a pretty name. Where are you from? Or... do you know where your parents found such a beautiful name?"
"Can we sit down, Seraphine?" Jeunesse asks, looking back toward the table she was sitting at when Jeun originally arrived. "I'll tell you about my name. And, well, I'm," she takes a moment, and emphasises her drawl, "from right round the river here, down Viavante way, I guarantee." She laughs then, but quickly lifts her hand to hold it over her lips when she does. "But I've been in France for a couple of years." She pivots, "Your problem sounds complex, and not like a small one. Are you certain that's just for you to figure out? Does this...copy person...come from hell as well?"
"Oh, where are my manners." Seraphine's drawl is soft and southern, specifically from the New Orleans area. "Please come sit down. Would you like a dri... never mind." Bast has taught her a thing or three about being a vampire. And he doesn't drink anything but blood. "But sit if you like and we can talk more privately." Before retiring to the table, Seraphine grabs keys and locks the front door as well as shuts off the 'OPEN' sign. "My fetch is created with bits and pieces of my blood, body and soul that they took from me, along with a lot of twigs and leaves and such. She's a replica of me with some extra filling." Sera rolls her eyes. "I can't wait to hear your story. You're from around here! Very close, right? What was France like? When did you go there?"
Jeunesse quirks an eyebrow, tilting her head just slightly to the side. She is still holding her hand over her mouth, but lowers it slightly to speak. "Don't fuss about me, I just thought if we were going to have a long conversation about--our predicaments--it might be more comfortable." Her eyes follow Seraphine as she moves around the shop, closing up, before she follows her to sit, at which point she lowers them to study her cards. "Not far. Spittin' distance--and the kind of place people love to spit. I...haven't been back yet. I didn't get to see much of France--I don't want to make unfair comparisons, but I was dragged away by...someone very powerful...and made to do his bidding for a long time before I...left." She lifts her eyes from the table, looking into Seraphine's again. She reaches up and touches her own cheek, much darker than Seraphine's, and traces her fingers over where those tears once appeared. "How did they take bits of your soul?"
"Oh my." Seraphine has grabbed a bottle of bourbon and sits down to relax a little and hear the story. "That sounds eerily similar to my story, doesn't it? You were taken against your will and kept somewhere far from your home to do another's bidding. How did you escape? Or leave? However you want to put it. Was this your... the one who embraced you?" Seraphine can't help herself. Curiosity killed the can but you know what did bring him back. She craves satisfaction on that front. "I'm not quite sure how they took part of my soul... reached in and ripped it out of me would be my guess. I don't exactly know how accurate that all is. Another lost -- more powerful and older than I, explained it to me that the fetch is made with part of my soul, I just never asked how that was possible. I guess I should have."
Jeunesse raises her eyebrows slowly and then tilts her head to the side, searching Seraphine's body as if the hole through which peices of her soul were stolen might reveal itself. It's unnerving--those unblinking eyes, that aura of /wrongness/--but Jeunesse does not seem to notice that there is a problem with her staring. "Who taught you that? About your soul? Does that mean that..if you kill your copy that you're killing part of your soul?" But she doesn't wait for an answer, instead she lowers her eyes to the bottle of bourbon. "It's complicated. I don't know how much your friend told you, but they, uh--when they're old they fall asleep, for a /really/ long time. He went to sleep. When I realized he wasn't going to wake up, I found my way home."
"A guy named Peter. He'd been at this a lot longer and he just knew things. He knew all about Arcadia and the Hedge and how we all escape -- I mean those who have come back, and we need to go through the Hedge to do it. Stuff like that. So he also explained all about these Fetches too. About how a lot of them actually think they /are/ the real person they were created to impersonate. So when I finally confront her, she may be really pissed that I'm trying to rob her of her life with 'her' family. And yeah, i'll be killing a little piece of myself. But it's really my only choice unless I just want to walk away and write my family off altogether."
Seraphine twists a little to get a better line on Jeunesse before she reaches for the bourbon and chugs down a ouple decent sized swallows. "A big sleep you say? No. Bast didn't tell me about that. I think he..." She pauses and tries to remember. "I think he and his friend Zion, who were both embraced by the same dude, ended up killing him or something. Or was it a her. I didn't pay enough attention obviously. But I'm not sure if I am suppose to share stuff like that. I don't want him to get into trouble. So you're sworn to secrecy, okay?" She smiles at Jeunesse, taking a liking to her despite the level of discomfort she feels around the woman.
There is something to be said for creatures of fear and their bonds, Jeunesse appears interested, tilting her head to the side. She wrinkles her nose thoughtfully. "There are ways that we handle things like that. I agree with you that, for their sake, you might not want to be telling any random Damned that wanders by that story--but not only do I not know them--I am also happy to take their confessions, which--" she lifts her hand then, her right one, palm facing Seraphine, and two fingers up, "--I am sworn to protect." She smiles again, but quickly covers her mouth with her swearing hand. From behind it, she says, "He should really come confess, though."
"Well... for me to tell him he should confess, I'd have to tell him I told someone what I just told you, and then he'd kill me for sure. I mean, I think he'd literally kill me. So that's not going to happen..." Seraphine narrows her eyes then and glares at Jeunesse. "You seriously better not tell anyone about this. I shouldn't have said anything and now I totally regret it. And why..." She cants her head in the vampire's direction. "...why can you take a confession? Are you a priest or something? Isn't that a little weird to have a priest who is a total predator?" Perhaps that doesn't sound as strange as she originally thought. "What would be the punishment for confessing something like that? Or whatever you call it. Having to say prayers like we used to when we went to confession."
"We are all predators. We are all God's creation. Is that a paradox?" Jeunesse laughs, rapping her knuckles on the table. Her laugh is unusually raspy considering the softness of her voice otherwise, as if she had something caught in her throat. She rolls her shoulders in a slow shrug, reaching up to pick at her t-shirt in the middle of her chest. "It's just our way. I'm not in charge of punishments. I am very small and inconsequential in that way. But someone is. I am not even in charge of confessions--no /one/ is--but I can take them. There's always a punishment, but the punishment when you confess is far easier to endure than the one that comes when you don't. I guess," she rolls her shoulders again, eyes falling to the bottle once more, "I protect the predators that way."
Seraphine looks /quite/ uncomfortable now, squirming a bit in her seat as she listens to the punishment talk and how big or little it might be. "I don't know for sure if they even did this. Fuck me he's going to kill me. I mean, literally!" She seems terrified, actually. In fact... there might just be something she can do about this trouble she created. She concentrates her wyrd and balls it up, aiming at Jeun's mind in order to erase the memory of having heard this story. She'll never again think of it or remember it. In it's place seraphine implants another memory; That they simply talked about Seraphine's abduction in the vaguest of terms. and the Darkling doesn't mention anything again about confessions or punishement, which would confuse the vampire. "How old are you anyway? I'm just curious." She smiles with relief at the bullet dodged.
Jeunesse pauses for a moment, her mouth slightly open. She forgets to cover it this time, and it can plainly be seen that she is missing several teeth. She remembers suddenly, then, and reaches up to cover it again. With her hand over her mouth, her voice is mildly muffled. "Oh, I'm, uh--I guess it depends on what you mean. I'm older than twenty. I'm not thirty. I'm somewhere--somewhere in between--you didn't tell me about your copy. Your, uh, soul. Are you killing your soul if you kill her?"
Seraphine can't help notice the vampire's teeth when she lets her guard down for a moment. This time, unlike her long fingers, the changeling does not comment. She is, after all, working really hard to mask it, so it would be totally impolite of her to call attention to it.
Instead she nods about the age, whih shocks her a little. She expected someone much older trapped in a young person's body. That doesn't seem to be the case. "My soul, yes. She's a little part of my soul and I'm going to have to kill off that part of my soul in order to preserve my original life." She tries to explain. "I don't think she even knows what she is or how she got to be where she's at. I know I know, it's sad. And I shouldn't kill her, but I /want/ my family back!" Apparently she's had this conversation before with similar results. No one wants to believe she needs to do this.
"If she is a demon from hell," Jeunesse says, lowering her hand, but now speaking in her slow and careful way in which no teeth sneak past her full lips, "then you should kill her. If she is, part of you, of your soul, aren't you worried that destroying your soul will destroy you?" Jeunesse pauses, thinking, "If she is both things, maybe she is like us. Created divinely for an unholy purpose. Perhaps we can show her her truth. She can embrace it, or flee. Either way, she will abandon what belongs to you."
Seraphine considers this unusual advice she never thought of before. "Like... she might be undead? Or... from hell? Or part of my soul? I dn't know /what/ the hell she is. I just know she's in my way." The tiny Darkling adds bitterly. "Do you want to help me? Do you want to meet her when I meet her for the first time and try to determine what she is and whether killing her will kill me too. Peter never said anything about that. If you want to help? I would be very grateful to you." She nods with a shy smile. "You talk a lot about god and religious stuff... what religion do you practice? It is a vampire religion?" Despite the shop being locked and the sign saying 'closed', Seraphine is still paranoid for anyone else to overhear them.
"Undead? I don't know, but something in-between, maybe. I don't know. Maybe I can do some research. I took a lot of old Mr. Sleepyhead's books with me. He might have something interesting about it. Oh--that's why I came in here--do you sell books? Nevermind." Jeunesse waves her hand, dismissing her own statement. "I'll help you. I can see that you're kind, and honest, and deserving of help--and if we can handle your problem without it hurting you, then all the better." She pauses then, though, thinking of the question. She looks up, reaching up with one hand and sifting her fingers into her bushy hair, coiling curls around one of them. "It's complicated. Everyone has some answers. Everyone has something right. I was raised Catholic. God's works are often difficult to understand until you are of them--and I am of them now--you are too, you know. So no--it's not "vampire religion"--it's why we are made to do what we do--in my case? I am fear. Fear turns the flock toward the shepherd. I am that. I am the dog nipping at the heels. They think I am the wolf, and that is good."~fade~