Rina's Need
1/26/2005
08:17 PM
Logfile from GarouMUSH.
It is currently 19:56 Pacific Time on Wed Jan 26 2005.
Currently in Saint Claire, it is a cloudy day. The temperature is 48 degrees Fahrenheit (8 degrees Celsius). The wind is calm today. The barometric pressure reading is 29.82 and rising, and the relative humidity is 96 percent. The dewpoint is 47 degrees Fahrenheit (8 degrees Celsius.)
Currently the moon is in the waning Full Moon phase (89% full).
Bawn: Northern Forest(#3012RA)
Dark and forboding woods stretch in all directions but the north, the trees close together as if they were soldiers closing ranks against the enemy of Man. The trees here are tall, and close off all light from above, like they were pillars in some vast cathedral to Nature. Songbirds flit between the branches and the snuffling of small animals comes from the brush if one listens close enough. The busy interstate highway to the north, though, drowns out most of the subtler sounds in that direction.
The northern edge of the bawn is marked here by the unavoidable length of Interstate 90. Near it, the sounds of traffic drown out the more natural sounds of water and wildlife. In all other directions, the traffic noise recedes into the background.
Contents:
White Bear
Obvious exits:
Interstate 90 North Lone Boulder Western Bawn Central Bawn Eastern Bawn
Though the clouds cover the moon's slowly closing eye, the light that does peek through bathes the wilderness in its eerie glow. The dense forest providing excellent cover already, the animals seem active regardless of what portends as coming rains in the air. One animal finds herself trotting along without particular purpose or destination. Three-Blades, the Gnawer, pads over and around bush and root with her head swinging this way and that, sniffing the air.
White Bear is doing what frequently masquerades as a patrol as he makes his way across the bawn. That is to say, he's got his nose to the ground is rooting through the layer of for food. He limps along, looking much better then he did two days ago over all, although bite marks remain. He makes his way along with a ridiculously slow pace, as if looking for food was some unbearable burden that's best put off until later.
With the wind barely blowing, Three-Blades seems for a moment, to have forgotten its direction. Her scent blows in the ahroun's direction, unmistakeably urrah. Yet, she doesn't have much of a clue to the ahroun's presence. Suffice to say though, her lack of care for her position and stealth likely has scared off much of the potential prey in the area already.
White Bear takes a while to catch the scent, with his nose buried in so much of the mulch. What Yi had scared off in larger game remained in smaller game, but even as he sticks his face into the base of a tree to try and raid a nest, his efforts turn up empty. The squat wolf lifts his head, finally catching Yi's scent. He doesn't move off in her direction, though, sticking to himself and even starting to move a little off in another direction.
Three-Blades continues to work along, sniffing here and there, ears up and alert. The frightened squeaks of the prey creatures sheltering within the tree don't seem loud enough for more than the ahroun's ears. Another moment goes by as it seems like the two lupus won't end up meeting each other, until for no readily apparent reason, the Gnawer turns a 180. The ragabash charges forward, right towards the ahroun, readying to leap upon him but not quite pouncing yet.
Yi gets a great view of his tail end, heading the exact opposite direction. The Ahroun slinks along at a slow pace, even as she rushes forward, as if hoping against all hope she hadn't seen him.
Alas, that's hardly the case. White Bear's very white fur only serves to attract the Gnawer's gaze. And while it might have been in jest, right as the Gnawer is about to crash headlong, she snaps all too close with her jaws at the tail of the ahroun. Her 'nip' misses - perhaps on purpose. And with a cant of her ears, she growls out without malice. You are a poor substitute for Little Bear.
White Bear makse a short little run at the last moment, putting distance between her an him as he suddenly makes a break for it. He skids to a stop a dozen or so yards, turning around with his posture all defensive. White Bear is not Galliard, he answers the other all at once ready for a fight and confused.
Three-Blades perhaps only confuses the ahroun even more as she trots closer a couple paces without any fear or heed of his defensive posture, and sits down. No, but you run away instead of play. Little Bear always plays. The ragabash speaks of the Wendigo galliard like he were sitting right beside the ahroun. White Bear is not the Bear that this wolf knew.
White Bear keeps backing up, much like Yi was brandishing a cattle prod at her instead of telling him things. He stops a 'healthy' distance away, front legs still half bent, ready to bolt at a moment's notice. He nervously looks to the foliage, telling Three-Blades that she does know White Bear, and has for a time more than three moons ago.
Three-Blades tilts her head, looking rather inquiringly at the ahroun. Three-Blades also knows, that when she traveled with the Sept Alpha to the land east and north, it was to see your father. To tell him that White Bear the Walker was no longer.
Now at this White Bear just gets plain old confused, peering closely as befuddlement overrides caution. He cocks his head at the other, nostrils flaring as he sniffs hesitantly in her direction despite her city 'stink'.
Three-Blades gets up and shakes out her coat, deliberately leaving the ahroun hanging for a moment with just her scent to inform him. Then she looks plainly at the ahroun, gazing like she were staring through him rather than at him. This one knows how it feels, to not know where one belongs. Little Bear helped me understand. He said, do not eat or drink for three sunrises and sunsets. Cleanse the body and mind with pure scents. Then, make your plea to the Grandmother, and let Her answer you. The no-moon looks back to the ahroun. Have you done that already?
White Bear doesn't seem to be following her in the least, head held in it's cocked position as he blinks at her without comprehension. He gives her a tepid no, wondering if he should have?
Three-Blades blows out a breath, and blinks at the ahroun slowly. The ragabash clarifies, that she wants to know whether White Bear has decided where he belongs in the Big World of the Garou. Whether he has chosen a new totem spirit, since Roach's favor was taken away.
White Bear's head straitens out some, doing a whole lot less peering at Yi now. He gives the Gnawer a simple and flat no, he is still packed under River-of-Ice-Spirit-Rhya, and he will remain at Hidden Walk to be guardian as long as he is guardian.
Three-Blades flares her nostrils, sniffing curiously with her ears perked intently forward at the tribeless wolf. And you have not felt any need to choose? Your father thought you should be Stag's Child, as he is.
White Bear's back arches slightly, hackles rising as he steps forward. Wrestles-with-Wolve's Father was not to be told about Garou! he practically snarls at her, going from confused to worked up in short order.
Three-Blades involuntarily bristles as well, remembering the moon still hanging in the sky. But there is an air on uncertainty about the ragabash now, instead. There is only one thing to think about here, White Bear. It is where you will go. No matter what happens, you must take a path. You will need to choose. Because I know you, and you are a good Garou, that I am worried.
White Bear prowls forward, baring his teeth at the other as he attempts to make himself look as intimidating as possible. Grinds-the-Rail-Rhya ordered that Wrestles-with-Wolve's father _not_ be told about Garou! he snarls again.
Three-Blades takes a step back, lips creeping back. Maybe it was not the father. Grinds-the-Rail-rhya is who spoke to Firewatcher-rhya. I only heard them talking. Fighting. About you.
White Bear stops in front of the Gnawer, lowering his posture slightly as he kills the growl. Grinds-the-Rail-Rhya is not White Bear's father, he finally informs her testily. Grinds-the-Rail-Rhya is White Bear's father's-brother.
Three-Blades sneezes once, as if pushing away the tension from her and lowering her lips. Then Grinds-the-Rail-Rhya is not your father, she confirms. I heard wrong. The Gnawer licks at her muzzle, trying to think of some way to cover or make up for the blunder she'd just made. Then - why is it White Bear has not chosen yet?
White Bear pulls his head back, squinting once more at the Gnawer. It doesn't last long, before he lowers his head and back down much lower, backpedaling. White Bear has, he 'explains'.
Three-Blades blinks twice - she hadn't expected the ahroun to admit anything. But now that he did say something about it, the Gnawer can only give a curious whine and ask, What did you choose?
White Bear, head still lowered, turns slightly to look off to the south. A tribe, he offers in way of further explanation. He still keeps his posture at it's origional low.
Three-Blades snorts a huff. Which tribe? the Gnawer asks again, this time more demanding than just curious.
Uktena, he informs her bluntly. White Bear licks his jaws, head turning off to the side to look over that direction for a moment. After letting his responce hang for that long, he turns and starts to plod off without so much as a 'I'm leaving'.
Three-Blades blinks again, ears cocking in puzzlement without her even thinking that the ahroun's blunt response is so odd. After that, though, the no-moon quickly recovers and somehow, barks out a laugh, finding humor in something or another. She starts after the ahroun though, ears up and tail flagging out behind her.
White Bear doesn't stop as the Ragabash follows, slinking along at his typical pace as he continues to head southward to the Caern. It's obvious that he's aware she's there, but he doesn't react much beyond basic recognition that the Gnawer still exists as he goes about whatever task he set off for.
Three-Blades continues to tag along, tongue poking out from between her teeth as she follows the ahroun. Like an errant pup rather than a full grown wolf, the ragabash gets close enough to try and nip for the ahroun's tail.
White Bear lets out a bark as the Ragabash gets his tail, jerking forward as he wheels around to glower at her. It is not time for the playing, he growl at her openly. It is time for the guarding the Caern.
Three-Blades swivels an ear. She knows that there is caern-guarding to be done. But there is no reason to not enjoy doing it. Besides, the no-moon notes with a sniff here and a sniff there, it is not that she is ignoring the Guardian's duties, but helping. Four ears, two noses, hear and sniff out better than just two ears and one nose - especially when that one nose is not scenting for the Enemy, but for food.
White Bear glowers at her, repeating a blunt assertion with a little change: It is not time for hunting. It is the time to go and watch the Caern.
Three-Blades swats her tail through the air, then lets it rest behind her. The Caern does not change, she asserts. Watching it is like watching a rock. Dull, dull. She is not one who likes to watch the caern.
White Bear watches it in case bad things come in the night to try and take the Caern, he informs her matter of fact. That established, he turns and continues his trek to the place.
Three-Blades sniffs the air again, but continues along with the ahroun as if he were her guide. This time though, she pulls up alongside the white wolf and keeps pace with him. Those darkly golden eyes turn upon the fullmoon every once in awhile as the pair travels in relative silence. Though he may be watching for something in the darkness, she is watching him - perhaps too much to the point of being a distraction.
If White Bear is watching for something, though, he doesn't let on to it. Instead, he makes his way slowly to the Caern, nose to the ground as he slinks along. When he reaches the north face of the area around the Caern he doesn't dilly around, going right for one of the small paths that takes him down into the valley, before turning into the Caern.
Center of the Caern
This is the central point of the 30-meter-wide clearing. The ground is a mixture of dark, rich, muddy soil mixed with clay, though there is an occasional patch of grass. At the center rests a large white boulder, immovable even by the strongest crinos. The boulder is shot through with streaks of quartz that produces scintillating colors when light strikes it just right. It is, for lack of a wholly adequate word, beautiful.
Around you, twenty yards in every direction, stretches the caern. To the southeast, a waterfall plummets over the edge of the chasm into a small pool in the caern; nearby, to the southwest, steam comes from cracks in the ground, perhaps some of the same water. Northwest, a rocky spar juts out of the ground at a low angle, showing a sloping but smooth top. The chasm walls narrow a bit to the northeast, causing some of the mist to swirl in that area.
Contents:
White Bear
Obvious exits:
Rock Slab Windy Spot WaterFall Steam Vents
As the Ahroun arrives for his nightly vigil, he slowly makes his way once around the wheel, stopping now and then to sniff at the occasional rock, before arriving at the Windy place. Unceremoniously he settles onto his side, forming almost a c as he lays there.
Three-Blades continues along in silence for a remarkable duration, mirroring the ahroun almost when she can, and following closely when she can't. Once they reach the caern and he takes a small path down, the Gnawer slows and drops back a couple of paces, letting the ahroun go on ahead. Though she continues after him at a slightly lessened pace, she does eventually come up to the point with the windy breeze, and rather than settle down remains standing. A soft, low whine issues forth from the ragabash as she looks out over the none-too-recently returned to pre-Spiral Dancers look caern.
White Bear doesn't respond to Yi's vocalization, settling his head on his paws as he watches outward into the Caern with a blank look. It's almost as if the moment he settled down he turned into a rock.
Three-Blades cocks an ear to the wind, listening to it quietly at first. Then, with a look down to the ahroun, she lowers her nose to nudge him once in a seemingly friendly gesture. It is a gesture to let him know that she is going to leave him alone now because it seems like she has tread into his territory and it has agitated him.
White Bear doesn't react to the prod from the other. At all. He just keeps blankly looking out into the Caern with his chin on the ground like nothing is going on at all, perfecting the boulder impersonation.
Three-Blades, seeing the ahroun not budge, licks the tip of her muzzle and starts off back the way they had come. At a certain point, she deviates and heads towards the very center of the caern, where she sniffs around before finding a certain spot. There, the ragabash turns her gaze upwards and looks around for the moon hidden behind the clouds. For what seems like a long while, the ragabash stands there moon gazing. Then without prompt, the ragabash lifts up her voice in a long, drawn out howl of great sadness and remembering of days past.
White Bear's tail wraps tightly against his hindquarters as Yi howls, ears scooping backwards as he halfway closes his eyes. Soon, he makes a quiet whining noise in sympathy to the other's howl.
The Gnawer's howl carries on, fluctuating only when she runs out of breath, and even then she keeps going. Remembering the Garou she knew: great fighters, cunning thinkers, swift hunters, and remembering those she knew that weren't such but meant something to her, the howl calls out to the spirits of the past for them to watch over all the children of Gaia, making no distinction of tribe, birthform, or even what shape they take. The lone wolfsong echoes into the night, and after what seems like forever, the ragabash's voice strains to hold a final note of hope. Hope, that though the Wheel continues to turn, and the Sixth Age is coming, that they still live. Her howl finishes rather roughly - she is no galliard after all - and with a final dip of her head to some unseen beings in the four directions, the ragabash starts off, headed towards the southern woods beyond the caern.
As Yi ends her howl with the message of hope, White Bear lays perfectly still, eyes half laden and ears still pinned against his skull like they were taped back. The whine dies off, the ahroun instead rolling onto his side to watch Yi leave, quiet and still.
And if someone came back in an hour, that's exactly where they would have found him again.
[Much later, after that kind of depressing scene!]
Studio(#2560RAJ)
The studio is airy, elegantly modern and full of light: a large, high-ceilinged square room with almost an entire wall of windows. It constantly smells of paint. Rolled canvases lean in one of the corners, and a few finished pieces adorn the walls. A six-foot length of pipe hangs a wall-sized painting that masks off some of the street-view windows, creating a slightly more personal space that evidently serves as a bedroom; the piece is a dark, strange cityscape, an oddly skewed view of the world beyond the glass seen through otherworldly eyes. The edge of a futon can be seen beyond it; the walls around the bed bear swirling patterns of colors, calming shades of undersea blue and green. These patterns gradually soften as they grow out into the rest of the room, where walls are visible; angles replace curves, until the mural becomes a mix of ocean and circuitry. The sofa is quirky and curving, a work of modern art upholstered in green velvet. A Turkish rug in vibrant tribal colors occupies much of the hardwood floor; the coffee table, a sculpture of recycled blue and green circuit-board and shiny aluminum, rests on it in front of the couch. An arty-looking steel chair completes the small seating area; instead of an end table, there's an odd birchwood box, three feet by four and about the same height as the coffee table, made up of five very shallow, big drawers. Some might recognize it as a 'flat file' for art storage.
Opposite the windows, a compact kitchen is marked off by a crisp stainless steel counter. The west wall nearby has doors to a closet and to a small, sparsely-appointed bathroom. The east wall holds bookshelves of pale wood, supporting a small stereo, collections of pictures and found objects, and a good number of books; the corner between shelving and the wall of windows holds a plain wooden desk with a slim notebook computer and phone atop it, and an elegant mesh rolling chair.
The wall behind the couch is dominated by a huge canvas, the framing large enough that the painting is cantilevered forward at the top--so that it overhangs the room slightly and draws one in even more. The painting depicts a futuristic city, all spires and crystalline forms, almost like something out of one of the Matrix films or a cyberpunk novel. The city of light and metal and glass grows on a planed surface, webbed with light and spiderwebs and strange lines like circuitry--paths, almost, all of them converging on the city and drawing the eye to its gleaming complexity. Metallic paints, flake and mica accentuate the surfaces; in places the oils and gesso have been mixed with silver, or powdered glass. The easel once again stands near the light-filtering canvas divider that splits off the bedroom; it is in a good spot to catch both natural sun, and the track lighting mounted on the ceiling.
Contents:
Rina
Obvious exits:
Out
Only certain visitors would ever think to drop in so late at night. And yet, the studio's entryway sounds with a knocking at the door.
Rina doesn't open it right away; her voice, hoarse and quiet, sounds from the other side. "Yeah?"
Yi clears her throat, but answers quickly, "It's Yi." Through the door, it might sound like an 'it's me', but the Gnawer ragabash's voice is just loud enough.
The mechanical noises of the deadbolt and lock are loud in the tiled stairwell. Rina opens the door, just enough to peer out; only a couple of lamps are on in the apartment behind her, and there is something quiet and ambient playing on the stereo. She looks thinner, unhealthy, with shadows under her eyes--but she summons up a genuine smile at the sight of the Gnawer. "Hey," she says, opening the door to invite the young woman in. "Come in, you want some coffee or somethin'?"
Yi's own smile of greeting is mediated by the sight of the kin. "If I am bothering you in the middle of something..." she starts to say, stepping in nevertheless. "It has been awhile, hasn't it?" The Gnawer slips off the baseball cap on her head, tucking it so that the visor sticks out of one of her pockets. Other things, small, but noticeable like the slight limp in her right leg that wasn't there before, show some change from the past.
Rina locks the door again, once she comes in. "I'm not in the middle of anything at all. And it's been ages..." She studies Yi for a moment, her mouth tugging upward at one corner. There's a threat of impending hug, for a moment, but she aborts the slight gesture of her hands and drops them to her sides.
"You look... well," the Walker kin says quietly.
Yi doesn't miss the hug though. This time, it is she who initiates the gesture, and it is a warm one. "Ah, but maybe that is because I took some Tylenol before coming." She pulls out of the hug and looks the woman up and down with a small clucking. "You've lost weight," she points out rather blatantly, not disguising her worry.
The changes are more obvious in the embrace. Rina is wearing a thin tank top and loose sweats, and the Gnawer touches unfamiliar scars and markings on her back, some of them rough lines of scabbing new-cut in her skin. Like writing, almost. She feels bony, her body fragile rather than whipcord-strong. The woman lifts a shoulder, making a face. "Yeah. I gotta work out more, or somethin'." She turns away, pacing toward the kitchen, and the edge of a glyph is visible on the back of one shoulder; for that matter, some of the dark lines and curves show through the white knit wifebeater.
Yi doesn't immediately let on, instead moving over to a point where she can watch the woman's back. "Or maybe you are working too much," she suggests, slipping down onto a seat with a short sigh and stiff movement. "What have you been doing lately?"
"Painting."
The apartment is filled with evidence of that, a scattering of stretched canvases, supplies left out, the artist's box under the easel instead of in a corner. It is cold here; the windows are cracked, to let out some of the everpresent fumes.
Flicking on a light in the kitchen, Rina gets down a couple of mugs and rinses them in the sink. "You want coffee? Decaf? Or maybe some hot tea or somethin'?"
"Ah," Yi utters with a look to the painter's corner, but is soon distracted back by the kin. "Mm, tea, then." She tries to get some better glances of the kitchenway, leaning slightly to one side then the other. "I have not heard very much of you on the streets lately. But I remember when everyone I ran into seemed to fear this one woman..."
"I been tryin' to stay out of trouble. Better if no one knows who's in charge." She fills the kettle, puts it on the stove, and then scratches lightly at the back of one shoulder. Not enough to break the scab, just enough to comfort the itch of healing skin. It looks like it might be the Garou sign for 'Rage.'
Yi decides after a few more moments, to stand up and help. Making her way to the kitchen, she pokes in, but not quite invading the invisible wall of the kitchen's threshold. "That is good," she says with a slow nod, her dark eyes watching. "But wrestling with paintbrushes do not cause such wounds, I think."
Rina almost looks toward her, quick and startled; before it is more than a tic, she returns her attention to the cabinet, searching among the cans of coffee for a couple of boxes of tea. "It's just cutting," she says dismissively. "Not like I got 'em from fighting anything."
Stepping another pace closer, Yi wets her lips as she has a bit of a closer look. "You are very talented with a knife, then," the Gnawer observes quietly. "And you know that I play The Fool many a time... Except when it comes to kin." She blinks once, slowly and rather patiently considering the moon.
"I had someone do it," Rina says quietly. She takes a breath, and lets it out. "You want jasmine, or plain, or ... I think I got Earl Grey, too, somewhere."
Yi cants her head to one side, scrutinizing the scab. "Jasmine," she answers without missing a beat, afterwhich she follows with, "Are there more of them?" And her reference is clearly not towards the varieties of tea.
Closer, she can see the others a little more clearly. One might be the Walker glyph, by the shape of it. There's a spot of blood at the back of her left shoulder, bright against the dull white cotton.
Rina bows her head, and nods. "Yeah." She fusses unnecessarily with the teapot, rinsing it with hot water and measuring out the right amount of loose tea from a tin with Chinese writing and flowers.
Yi breathes out, looking over all that she can see, and not really stopping on one for too long. "May I ask, why? Why do you mark yourself like this? It seems... painful." What the ragabash knows about pain, though... and it shows in her eyes as she looks over the old scars and new cuts that will become them. "I think you should not do such things to yourself, Rina."
"I didn't do it," Rina says quietly. "And they just fucking itch, /now./" She still faces the counter, looking down at her hands poised against the edge.
"Who did, then?" Yi asks, her question seemingly just a natural follow-up. "I mean - this one," she lifts a finger, almost touching the Walker glyph looking mark, "and this one," now pointing to the Garou Rage glyph-like marking, "seem rather... familiar. As for the itching... I could only suggest some creams." She lowers her hand, glancing to the kettle boiling.
"It doesn't matter." Her answer is quick, unsteady, and she moves to rescue the kettle and pour the boiling water into the teapot. "Okay?"
The hand that had lowered, slowly curls and uncurls. "Rina..." Yi starts up, tone slipping down further, yet kept at a steady level. "It does matter. It matters very much. And I want to know."
"What do you want to know?" Rina's voice is low, tight, an odd pairing with the pouring of the water and the rising smell of jasmine tea.
Yi tries to hold her voice at a level, letting it flow like the water pouring. "I want to know if something is bothering you. And, where you are going to get these cuts." She's trying to keep civil, but the worry creeps up as well as her anger. "Please Rina. I know, I have no right to invade... but as a friend. As... distant family..." She lowers her gaze to the mugs. "Please, tell me."
"Nothin' bothering me except it's hard to live." She wets her lips, lets out a breath. "And it's someone safe. That's all that matters."
Yi takes a step back, brow furrowing. "'Someone safe?'" The ragabash echoes, swallowing down. "'Hard to live?' Bloody hell Rina, Who is it? Why? What is making this so hard?" The rapidfire questions puncture the air, with the Gnawer's breathing quickened. She stares hard at the kin, trying to figure her out.
"What do you think?" Rina whispers, holding the edge of the counter. "What could be wrong with my life? I have a husband who loves me. A lover. A beautiful child. Her father...."
Yi closes her eyes a moment, seeking that self-control that walks its tightrope every full moon. "And yet... and yet you stay here, alone." She reopens her eyes, drawing in a long, slow breath and releasing just as slowly. "I don't understand. Maybe I will never understand."
"They're all dead," Rina whispers. "What's to understand?" She swallows, and pushes away from the counter. "Things are..." Both arms wrapped around herself, she shivers--and no wonder; it's freezing in the open apartment. "Things are bad, Yi."
Yi looks away at first. "I know," she murmurs, hands slipping into her pockets. "But you cannot stay this way, or else you will be dead too. And all this... empty craving..." The ragabash looks back. "It is bad, bad karma. You must move on. Find some way to live - not like this." She looks off, around the studio. Nice as it is, it's cold, dark, uninviting. Lonely. "This is not the way."
"I need him, Yi. I need him here, and I can't leave him." She moves abruptly, blinking as she reaches for the mugs and fills them both with the pale, steaming liquid. When she turns to hand Yi's to her, the dark eyes are empty, her face almost devoid of expression.
Yi takes the mug, but sets it down immediately after. Unbidden, she steps towards the woman and her arms move to draw her into a tight hug, one that likely touches the intense heat of the other tea mug to both of them.
Rina shudders in the embrace, and ducks her head hard against Yi's shoulder; the cup drops to the floor and shatters, splashing hot tea.
Yi is well enough protected against tea, and doesn't care about it enough to move. "I know it's hard Rina," she whispers, not letting her go just yet. "Just let it flow. I am here..."
"I need him," she chokes softly. "I need him so much--"
Yi clutches tighter as she too feels a certain grief buried inside wells up. For a time, she doesn't say a word. She simply holds the kin for as long as she can. "You must find a way," she murmurs softly when the tide within ebbs back. "He would not want to see you like this... I, don't want to see you like this."
Pressing a wet cheek to Yi's, Rina whispers, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. About everything with you-- I tried--"
Yi shushes Rina softly, one hand lightly running through woman's hair. "There is nothing about me you need worry about," she replies quietly. "It's hard on you. I, maybe, am hard on you trying to press you to keep walking with your eyes towards the road ahead."
Rina swallows, and touches a kiss to the Gnawer's cheek. "You're always so strong," she whispers.
Yi closes her eyes at the kiss, opening them to gaze to her side at the kinswoman. "It is not strength," she returns softly. "Only a fool's hope." Her hand runs lightly over the other's hair again. Then, she looks full on at the woman's features, taking all of it in - shadowed eyes, paled skin. Her finger lifts to wipe away some of the tears. "I can't bring him back," she says quietly. "But I made a promise. One that I will keep, for as long as I breathe. I am here for you Rina... and I will do all that you ask of me that is within my power."
Something flickers through the kin's eyes, a moment where she almost seems alive; then she lets her gaze slide away and down, wetting her lips nervously. She swallows. "No."
Confusion flits across the Gnawer's eyes, and she blinks once. Her brow furrowing slightly, she tilts her head and seeks the kin's eyes again. "What do you mean, 'No'?"
Rina swallows, hard, and gives a small shake of her head. "Don't... don't promise that. Not..." She shakes her head, and closes her eyes.
Yi slowly blinks again. "Why?" Her brow still wrinkled down, her eyes still seeking the hidden answer, she waits patiently for the answer to rise from the fog. "It is only what I can do..."
Somehow she manages a faint half-smile. "Just be you. And don't die, okay?"
Yi parts her lips as if to say something more, but at seeing her finally smile, the Gnawer cuts herself off. She nods once. "As you wish," she replies, echoing the smile in that smallish quirk of her lip. Slowly realizing there is a wet spot clinging to her pant leg, her gaze slips down and looks to the shattered mug. "I'll help you clean up."
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