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xp_logsHaving escaped from medlab, Penance heads for the woods. Logan tracks her down. He's not having a good week.
The scent of fresh air led her to an exit at last. Another grate, this one thick steel, stood between her and freedom and she made a small growling noise in the back of her throat as she hacked at it repeatedly. At last she managed a hole big enough for her to squeeze through, blessing the small size that had often had her cousins picking on her and she crawled out, breathing deeply of the slightly cool air. She seemed to be in some sort of garden, the ventilation duct half hidden by shrubbery. When she glanced up to see what sort of house the garden belonged to, her jaw dropped slightly at the sight of the mansion rising above her. A manor house, belonging to someone extremely wealthy, no doubt...
A cold knot grew in the pit of her (empty!) stomach. A memory, fuzzy and dim, of whispers in the middle of the night, speculations on what someone might do with a mutant child. With enough money a person could do anything they wanted, came a voice, a boy's, before the moment faded again. With enough money... Staring at the house, she knew that here was someone to whom her life and liberty would be so much small change. This new form made her difficult to hurt, yes, but she couldn't imagine that would stop them from trying. And there were worse things than being beaten.
Voices, over on her left, slightly raised and excited, even if she couldn't understand the words. The pursuit had started. It took but a split second to decide on a course of action - she burst from her hiding place, running at full speed across the lawn to the shelter of the woods beyond, on all fours now.
When the soldiers come and I'm not there, I want you to hide. Run as far as you can into the woods and wait until they've gone. If they can't find you, they can't hurt you...
The words were her mother's, returning across the gulf of years and for a moment she felt as she had then, a small, frightened child, trying so hard to be brave. 'I will, Mama, I will.' she thought in response. 'But where are you?' Crouching so her long claw-like fingers brushed the foliage, she fled deeper into the shadows beneath the trees. Away from the voices and the people trying to find her for who knew what purpose. When she couldn't run any more she found a hiding place under a fallen tree, covered herself with dead leaves and grasses, and waited.
~Wolverine to base. She's rabbited into the woods. Pull your people back, I'll handle it.~ he subvocalized into his mike, then straightened up, making himself obvious to her. Her scent-trail was easy to follow - she was scared out of her mind and brushing up against things, not to mention the fat slick in the air itself. "Penny? My name is Logan. Slow down, girl, nobody here is going to hurt you." he called in her general direction.
Still and quiet as a mouse. Wait until they get tired of looking and leave. It was almost like her mother was there, whispering in her ear and it was so hard not to whimper. Where was she? Even the trees and foliage had been unfamiliar and the voice was speaking in... English? It sounded so different to the English woman on the tape recorded lessons at school. She curled herself up tighter, closing her eyes so that unnatural blue glow didn't give her away.
Logan almost jumped out of his skin when the Professor mind-dumped more information into his skull. He hated that, but he ruthlessly quashed the reaction. No time for it right now. "Penny!" he called, and then switched to Serbian. ~There are no soldiers here, no men who will disappear you.~ he said.
That did elicit a response from her, a tiny startled squeak. He was speaking Serbian? And that name... It stirred faint memories, of places and people she couldn't quite grasp. Dismissing them, she focussed on the here and now, the language he was using. The Serbs had murdered her people, had raped her mother, had done unspeakable things... had they brought her to this place? This man could well be one, seeking her out.
Her talons tightened on the bark of the fallen tree, cutting deep gouges into it. Well, perhaps this time he had bitten off more than he could chew. Slitting her eyes, she watched from her hiding place as he drew closer.
Logan was taking things nice and slow, but trying to keep things nonthreatening as much as he possibly could. He knew he was being hunted, but that was the idea. Draw her out and subdue. She couldn't put any permanent hurt on him - nothing he'd run across yet could - and he doubted her superhard skin could cut adamantium. The tricky part was going to be subduing her without doing any real permanent damage. He was hoping she'd be stupid and give him a headshot.
There! She wasn't a fighter, never had been, but this strange form of hers seemed built for fighting, for destroying. Silently she burst from her hiding place, dashing behind the man and slashing her talons at the backs of his legs.
Logan heard it the second her breathing changed for the charge, and spun out of the way of her immediate attack. He kept his own claws sheathed in for the time being - the poor girl was spooked enough already - and used all that tasty momentum to push Yvette, try to take her to ground. Deny her the leverage she needed to poke those talons into his anatomy. He was oddly reminded for a second of poor Yuriko.
He was so fast! She rolled as she hit the ground, something taking over her body, something instinctual. The drive to fight, to hurt, to not let herself be trapped ever again. With a silent snarl she twisted like a cat, slashing at him with her taloned feet before pushing herself into a crouch again and raising her clawed hands to strike at him again.
Logan pulled back a highly lacerated hand. "Son of a bitch." he said, as she'd cut through his flesh like it was paper. Only the metal bonded to his bones stopped her from removing his hand entirely. "All right, kid. Gloves off." he said, extending his own claws. "Your move."
What was he? He was looking at the gash in his hand as if it was nothing but a scratch and where was the blood? And those claws! She drew back a little, uncertain of what she should do. He wasn't angry she had hurt him. Was he even human?
Logan held up his hand towards Yvette so she could watch his flesh knit itself closed, the wound disappearing in moments. "~You can't hurt me.~" he told her solemnly. "~We're like you. Different.~" he said, in what he hoped was a reassuring voice.
Like her? She watched the wound close in horror. This man who spoke Serbian, who couldn't be hurt, who had claws to match her own... he was trying to trick her. Would he hurt her like they had hurt her mother? Would she be just another body in a mass grave? She didn't remember those days well, she'd been only a small child, but she remembered the fear, the explosions, the violence. Her mother's stories had kept that alive.
Run and hide, her mother's voice told her, but this man, this... beast would follow her wherever she went, would track her down. She had to stop him, long enough that she could get far enough away. Baring her teeth in a snarl she launched herself at him again, trusting her armoured skin to protect her from his claws whilst she slashed at his face this time.
Logan fell backwards, refusing to use his claws against a scared little girl but at the same time not relishing her tearing out his throat or stabbing his lungs out. He'd had that happen before and it sucked. A lot. Time to risk a little pain to try to neutralize her. He grabbed out for her arm while he was falling back, looking to put her into a grapple that would keep her pinned without cutting himself to ribbons.
He had her arm but her feet were free and she raked them downwards as her momentum carried her towards his face. He wasn't tall, but neither was she. If she could tear up his legs enough he wouldn't be able to chase her. Hopefully.
Yvette got lucky - she spiral-cut around his uncuttable leg bone to the Achilles' tendons, which quite handily severed with not much effort at all on her part. Logan collapsed, unable to walk, unable to even control his feet until his body repaired the damage to his tendons. The gleam of the metal bonded to them was quite visible in the late-afternoon sunshine.
At last, she had a chance! Without a look back, she scrambled away, disappearing into the undergrowth as her dark-red skin blended with the shadows under the trees. The only sign she'd been there were the gashes in Logan's flesh and the shreds of hospital gown that had finally fallen from her.
~Wolverine to base. She's rabbiting again - I'll be a few before I can pursue. She's got no training but a fierce will. She's dangerous.~ he reported back via his uniform's mike - only to realize that she'd cut through the antenna wire during their scuffle. Great. This was really turning out to be a red-letter day.
***
After the encounter with Logan, Paige steps in. Sometimes it's a matter of resonance.
The birds were still singing. When there had been no word from Wolverine for several minutes and they'd found him with his skin just finishing knitting itself together, there had been a long pause in which they all looked at each other and debated what exactly to do. And when the suggestions finally started being rattled off, and they moved off from counterattack and onto brainstorming how exactly to sedate her, given her "unique situation", that's exactly what she'd said. The birds were still singing; with a quiet smile Paige moved in the direction of the woods, tugging at her braid. She looked over her shoulder, ignoring their curious looks, and the way Scott had begun to protest over the comms, and repeated it; I've got her.
It was too easy to relate. Her hand, carefully turning the page of The Velveteen Rabbit made rainbows on the leaves, and her voice came like a music box; she was exposed and there was no guarantee that the girl couldn't slice through even diamonds. But she could relate, and for that, it was worth the risk.
"The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it."
There was a brief rustle in the bushes to her right, a movement so small it might have been mistaken for a squirrel, or one of the birds. Glowing blue eyes peered out from between a gap in the leaves, narrowing slightly as they took in the girl sitting so sedately on the log. It had been the sound of her voice that had caught her attention as she rested despite the danger, exhausted. Soft and calm and unpreturbed, soothing to her jangled nerves and confused mind. Paige was almost too bright to look at, dressed in light and rainbows, and yet there was something about her that spoke to the frightened girl. Something that said 'this is safe,' even as it reminded her of something out of a fairy tale, the stories her mother would read to her when she was small. 'The Diamond Princess', this one ought to be called.
"'What is Real?' asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. 'Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?'" Paige continued, a little quieter now, hoping to tempt the girl towards her. She was careful to keep her eyes down, though, her now faceted eyes allowed for quick sneaks to go unnoticed. "Real isn't how you are made,' said the Skin Horse. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but really loves you, then you become Real.'"
The words were somehow familiar, for all they were in English. And getting harder to hear - without conscious thought, the girl pushed her way through the bushes, emerging into the clearing, eyes fixed on Paige. Her knees were trembling slightly, a combination of fatigue and adrenaline fading and she crouched down low, ready to spring away if there were any sudden moves but suddenly wishing she wouldn't have to. She was tired of running.
Slowly, Paige raised her head to look at the girl and smiled - warm and gentle, but moving no more than that - before turning back to the book in her lap. "'Does it hurt?' asked the Rabbit. 'Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. 'When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.'"
She froze at the movement, but the smile halted the flight. Tilting her head, she regarded the girl and her book curiously. It could be a trick, she knew that, but she didn't think so. It didn't feel like a trap.
The red girl crept forward a little more, claws whispering in the leaves as she felt her way.
"'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?'" Paige continued, in that same, wind-chime tone; she could see all of her now, crouched and shivering. "My friend read this book to me when I was sick. Do you like it so far?" she asked suddenly, not moving but for the dapples of light that shifted as her braid klinked against her spine with the breeze.
Glowing blue eyes widened a little at the sudden shift in attention to her directly, and she would have run, only her legs were shaking too much now and she was tired and hungry. And the girl hadn't moved, hadn't tried to touch her or grab her. The words were simple ones, ones she knew from English class, and she nodded, just once. Yes.
"It's not very cold right now, but the wind picks up at night and you probably haven't had dinner. I could heat up some potato soup for you, and I'd share the apple pie my friend made for me. Maybe even read the rest of this to you before bed, if you'd like," Paige offered, ducking her head a little, coy, to look at the girl. "It's one of my favourites, this story. I'm glad that you like it."
Food. Rest. Kindness. They tugged at the girl's heart, and she found herself creeping a little closer despite herself. A small noise, half-whimper, half croak, came from her throat as she looked up at the diamond girl.
Smiling, Paige closed the book and gently lowered her hand down, down below her thigh, but not stretching it out too far away from her body; an offer but not a demand. "Okay. Let's go inside. It's been a long day."
For a long moment, the red girl looked at Paige's hand, weighing up her choices. She could keep running, but where could she go? She had no idea where she was. And this girl, so pretty in the afternoon light with her diamond form, had been nothing but kind, unlike the frightening man who spoke the language of her people's killers. Perhaps it was time to stop running, to be the girl, not the monster.
She shuffled closer, reaching for the hand without thinking, a purely instinctive action.
There was a dull rustling noise as slivers of diamond fell into the grass, but Paige merely smiled and threaded her fingers with the much larger, clawed ones as she stood up. "There we are. Think you can manage to the house or would you like to take a trip on the Paige Express? Complimentary cup of tea with every door to door service."
Tea? The glowing blue eyes blazed stronger at that. With another, firmer nod, she let Paige draw her into a more upright position. The first steps towards the house were shaky and filled with trepidation, but the girl's hand in hers was firm without being constraining. And it had been so long since she could last remember someone touching her... Then she stumbled a little, worn out from the flight and the fight and the fright. Struggling, she managed the smallest hint of a word through vocal chords that hadn't been used in a very long time.
"Help?"
"You bet, little mouse," Paige replied kindly, bending down to scoop the girl into her arms, cradling her to her chest as if she were a kitten or a doll; a diamond husk did have it uses other than able to fund for university and hold hands with frightened foreigners. She'd have had a little more trouble, otherwise. "Tea, nap and maybe soup when you wake up, I think..."
The scent of fresh air led her to an exit at last. Another grate, this one thick steel, stood between her and freedom and she made a small growling noise in the back of her throat as she hacked at it repeatedly. At last she managed a hole big enough for her to squeeze through, blessing the small size that had often had her cousins picking on her and she crawled out, breathing deeply of the slightly cool air. She seemed to be in some sort of garden, the ventilation duct half hidden by shrubbery. When she glanced up to see what sort of house the garden belonged to, her jaw dropped slightly at the sight of the mansion rising above her. A manor house, belonging to someone extremely wealthy, no doubt...
A cold knot grew in the pit of her (empty!) stomach. A memory, fuzzy and dim, of whispers in the middle of the night, speculations on what someone might do with a mutant child. With enough money a person could do anything they wanted, came a voice, a boy's, before the moment faded again. With enough money... Staring at the house, she knew that here was someone to whom her life and liberty would be so much small change. This new form made her difficult to hurt, yes, but she couldn't imagine that would stop them from trying. And there were worse things than being beaten.
Voices, over on her left, slightly raised and excited, even if she couldn't understand the words. The pursuit had started. It took but a split second to decide on a course of action - she burst from her hiding place, running at full speed across the lawn to the shelter of the woods beyond, on all fours now.
When the soldiers come and I'm not there, I want you to hide. Run as far as you can into the woods and wait until they've gone. If they can't find you, they can't hurt you...
The words were her mother's, returning across the gulf of years and for a moment she felt as she had then, a small, frightened child, trying so hard to be brave. 'I will, Mama, I will.' she thought in response. 'But where are you?' Crouching so her long claw-like fingers brushed the foliage, she fled deeper into the shadows beneath the trees. Away from the voices and the people trying to find her for who knew what purpose. When she couldn't run any more she found a hiding place under a fallen tree, covered herself with dead leaves and grasses, and waited.
~Wolverine to base. She's rabbited into the woods. Pull your people back, I'll handle it.~ he subvocalized into his mike, then straightened up, making himself obvious to her. Her scent-trail was easy to follow - she was scared out of her mind and brushing up against things, not to mention the fat slick in the air itself. "Penny? My name is Logan. Slow down, girl, nobody here is going to hurt you." he called in her general direction.
Still and quiet as a mouse. Wait until they get tired of looking and leave. It was almost like her mother was there, whispering in her ear and it was so hard not to whimper. Where was she? Even the trees and foliage had been unfamiliar and the voice was speaking in... English? It sounded so different to the English woman on the tape recorded lessons at school. She curled herself up tighter, closing her eyes so that unnatural blue glow didn't give her away.
Logan almost jumped out of his skin when the Professor mind-dumped more information into his skull. He hated that, but he ruthlessly quashed the reaction. No time for it right now. "Penny!" he called, and then switched to Serbian. ~There are no soldiers here, no men who will disappear you.~ he said.
That did elicit a response from her, a tiny startled squeak. He was speaking Serbian? And that name... It stirred faint memories, of places and people she couldn't quite grasp. Dismissing them, she focussed on the here and now, the language he was using. The Serbs had murdered her people, had raped her mother, had done unspeakable things... had they brought her to this place? This man could well be one, seeking her out.
Her talons tightened on the bark of the fallen tree, cutting deep gouges into it. Well, perhaps this time he had bitten off more than he could chew. Slitting her eyes, she watched from her hiding place as he drew closer.
Logan was taking things nice and slow, but trying to keep things nonthreatening as much as he possibly could. He knew he was being hunted, but that was the idea. Draw her out and subdue. She couldn't put any permanent hurt on him - nothing he'd run across yet could - and he doubted her superhard skin could cut adamantium. The tricky part was going to be subduing her without doing any real permanent damage. He was hoping she'd be stupid and give him a headshot.
There! She wasn't a fighter, never had been, but this strange form of hers seemed built for fighting, for destroying. Silently she burst from her hiding place, dashing behind the man and slashing her talons at the backs of his legs.
Logan heard it the second her breathing changed for the charge, and spun out of the way of her immediate attack. He kept his own claws sheathed in for the time being - the poor girl was spooked enough already - and used all that tasty momentum to push Yvette, try to take her to ground. Deny her the leverage she needed to poke those talons into his anatomy. He was oddly reminded for a second of poor Yuriko.
He was so fast! She rolled as she hit the ground, something taking over her body, something instinctual. The drive to fight, to hurt, to not let herself be trapped ever again. With a silent snarl she twisted like a cat, slashing at him with her taloned feet before pushing herself into a crouch again and raising her clawed hands to strike at him again.
Logan pulled back a highly lacerated hand. "Son of a bitch." he said, as she'd cut through his flesh like it was paper. Only the metal bonded to his bones stopped her from removing his hand entirely. "All right, kid. Gloves off." he said, extending his own claws. "Your move."
What was he? He was looking at the gash in his hand as if it was nothing but a scratch and where was the blood? And those claws! She drew back a little, uncertain of what she should do. He wasn't angry she had hurt him. Was he even human?
Logan held up his hand towards Yvette so she could watch his flesh knit itself closed, the wound disappearing in moments. "~You can't hurt me.~" he told her solemnly. "~We're like you. Different.~" he said, in what he hoped was a reassuring voice.
Like her? She watched the wound close in horror. This man who spoke Serbian, who couldn't be hurt, who had claws to match her own... he was trying to trick her. Would he hurt her like they had hurt her mother? Would she be just another body in a mass grave? She didn't remember those days well, she'd been only a small child, but she remembered the fear, the explosions, the violence. Her mother's stories had kept that alive.
Run and hide, her mother's voice told her, but this man, this... beast would follow her wherever she went, would track her down. She had to stop him, long enough that she could get far enough away. Baring her teeth in a snarl she launched herself at him again, trusting her armoured skin to protect her from his claws whilst she slashed at his face this time.
Logan fell backwards, refusing to use his claws against a scared little girl but at the same time not relishing her tearing out his throat or stabbing his lungs out. He'd had that happen before and it sucked. A lot. Time to risk a little pain to try to neutralize her. He grabbed out for her arm while he was falling back, looking to put her into a grapple that would keep her pinned without cutting himself to ribbons.
He had her arm but her feet were free and she raked them downwards as her momentum carried her towards his face. He wasn't tall, but neither was she. If she could tear up his legs enough he wouldn't be able to chase her. Hopefully.
Yvette got lucky - she spiral-cut around his uncuttable leg bone to the Achilles' tendons, which quite handily severed with not much effort at all on her part. Logan collapsed, unable to walk, unable to even control his feet until his body repaired the damage to his tendons. The gleam of the metal bonded to them was quite visible in the late-afternoon sunshine.
At last, she had a chance! Without a look back, she scrambled away, disappearing into the undergrowth as her dark-red skin blended with the shadows under the trees. The only sign she'd been there were the gashes in Logan's flesh and the shreds of hospital gown that had finally fallen from her.
~Wolverine to base. She's rabbiting again - I'll be a few before I can pursue. She's got no training but a fierce will. She's dangerous.~ he reported back via his uniform's mike - only to realize that she'd cut through the antenna wire during their scuffle. Great. This was really turning out to be a red-letter day.
***
After the encounter with Logan, Paige steps in. Sometimes it's a matter of resonance.
The birds were still singing. When there had been no word from Wolverine for several minutes and they'd found him with his skin just finishing knitting itself together, there had been a long pause in which they all looked at each other and debated what exactly to do. And when the suggestions finally started being rattled off, and they moved off from counterattack and onto brainstorming how exactly to sedate her, given her "unique situation", that's exactly what she'd said. The birds were still singing; with a quiet smile Paige moved in the direction of the woods, tugging at her braid. She looked over her shoulder, ignoring their curious looks, and the way Scott had begun to protest over the comms, and repeated it; I've got her.
It was too easy to relate. Her hand, carefully turning the page of The Velveteen Rabbit made rainbows on the leaves, and her voice came like a music box; she was exposed and there was no guarantee that the girl couldn't slice through even diamonds. But she could relate, and for that, it was worth the risk.
"The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it."
There was a brief rustle in the bushes to her right, a movement so small it might have been mistaken for a squirrel, or one of the birds. Glowing blue eyes peered out from between a gap in the leaves, narrowing slightly as they took in the girl sitting so sedately on the log. It had been the sound of her voice that had caught her attention as she rested despite the danger, exhausted. Soft and calm and unpreturbed, soothing to her jangled nerves and confused mind. Paige was almost too bright to look at, dressed in light and rainbows, and yet there was something about her that spoke to the frightened girl. Something that said 'this is safe,' even as it reminded her of something out of a fairy tale, the stories her mother would read to her when she was small. 'The Diamond Princess', this one ought to be called.
"'What is Real?' asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. 'Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?'" Paige continued, a little quieter now, hoping to tempt the girl towards her. She was careful to keep her eyes down, though, her now faceted eyes allowed for quick sneaks to go unnoticed. "Real isn't how you are made,' said the Skin Horse. 'It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but really loves you, then you become Real.'"
The words were somehow familiar, for all they were in English. And getting harder to hear - without conscious thought, the girl pushed her way through the bushes, emerging into the clearing, eyes fixed on Paige. Her knees were trembling slightly, a combination of fatigue and adrenaline fading and she crouched down low, ready to spring away if there were any sudden moves but suddenly wishing she wouldn't have to. She was tired of running.
Slowly, Paige raised her head to look at the girl and smiled - warm and gentle, but moving no more than that - before turning back to the book in her lap. "'Does it hurt?' asked the Rabbit. 'Sometimes,' said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. 'When you are Real you don't mind being hurt.'"
She froze at the movement, but the smile halted the flight. Tilting her head, she regarded the girl and her book curiously. It could be a trick, she knew that, but she didn't think so. It didn't feel like a trap.
The red girl crept forward a little more, claws whispering in the leaves as she felt her way.
"'Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,' he asked, 'or bit by bit?'" Paige continued, in that same, wind-chime tone; she could see all of her now, crouched and shivering. "My friend read this book to me when I was sick. Do you like it so far?" she asked suddenly, not moving but for the dapples of light that shifted as her braid klinked against her spine with the breeze.
Glowing blue eyes widened a little at the sudden shift in attention to her directly, and she would have run, only her legs were shaking too much now and she was tired and hungry. And the girl hadn't moved, hadn't tried to touch her or grab her. The words were simple ones, ones she knew from English class, and she nodded, just once. Yes.
"It's not very cold right now, but the wind picks up at night and you probably haven't had dinner. I could heat up some potato soup for you, and I'd share the apple pie my friend made for me. Maybe even read the rest of this to you before bed, if you'd like," Paige offered, ducking her head a little, coy, to look at the girl. "It's one of my favourites, this story. I'm glad that you like it."
Food. Rest. Kindness. They tugged at the girl's heart, and she found herself creeping a little closer despite herself. A small noise, half-whimper, half croak, came from her throat as she looked up at the diamond girl.
Smiling, Paige closed the book and gently lowered her hand down, down below her thigh, but not stretching it out too far away from her body; an offer but not a demand. "Okay. Let's go inside. It's been a long day."
For a long moment, the red girl looked at Paige's hand, weighing up her choices. She could keep running, but where could she go? She had no idea where she was. And this girl, so pretty in the afternoon light with her diamond form, had been nothing but kind, unlike the frightening man who spoke the language of her people's killers. Perhaps it was time to stop running, to be the girl, not the monster.
She shuffled closer, reaching for the hand without thinking, a purely instinctive action.
There was a dull rustling noise as slivers of diamond fell into the grass, but Paige merely smiled and threaded her fingers with the much larger, clawed ones as she stood up. "There we are. Think you can manage to the house or would you like to take a trip on the Paige Express? Complimentary cup of tea with every door to door service."
Tea? The glowing blue eyes blazed stronger at that. With another, firmer nod, she let Paige draw her into a more upright position. The first steps towards the house were shaky and filled with trepidation, but the girl's hand in hers was firm without being constraining. And it had been so long since she could last remember someone touching her... Then she stumbled a little, worn out from the flight and the fight and the fright. Struggling, she managed the smallest hint of a word through vocal chords that hadn't been used in a very long time.
"Help?"
"You bet, little mouse," Paige replied kindly, bending down to scoop the girl into her arms, cradling her to her chest as if she were a kitten or a doll; a diamond husk did have it uses other than able to fund for university and hold hands with frightened foreigners. She'd have had a little more trouble, otherwise. "Tea, nap and maybe soup when you wake up, I think..."
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Date: 2006-09-30 10:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-01 01:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-10-01 01:33 am (UTC)Jo, Aisy, Red, amazing job. Great logs. And the last bit had me melting into a puddle of awww.