held me up through the rapture

She expected shenanigans of any event, and in all honesty, she expected worse from a town who had a murder at their last gala. The vast amount of time and effort put into the security at this gala didn’t lessen her expectations, but this? This was just disappointing. Boring, really. A drunk Fae leeching and forcing life into the garden on a whim and being disruptive? Much more suited to Lily’s diplomatic skills. She had put her focus to another matter when she got an urgent call from one of her team asking her to come handle the errant party goer. Of course. Gemma fumed silently the whole way there, at least until she saw her sister on the ground and the drunk only a few feet away, still trying (and failing) to grab at Lily. “Up you go, Lils.” She said, helping her sister to her feet in one swift motion. “This is now officially my problem.” Part of her wanted to zap them into next year, but that was frowned upon. Supposedly. “Mister Fairbairn, you are just so fucking arrested right now.” He grabbed at her ankle as she rounded him, but weakly, and she kicked the hand away lightly. It was easier to cuff him than expected and Gemma was suspicious of that, only to find that the drink had finally knocked him out. Dead weight, excellent.  Gemma rolled her eyes, then looked up at her sister. “I think you and I can handle this idiot, don’t you? And you could use a break, Lily. C’mon, you take an arm.”

She could fuss about the basket, the questions, the finer details about the years they’ve spent apart – but she doesn’t. No, by now Caoimhe knows confrontation is best saved for when it’s most necessary, or at least best suited to yield the results she’s hoping for. And this store, with its too-bright lights and overhead music, is hardly the place. So she lets it go, hoping for ease enough, even as she swats at Gemma’s arm with a scoff at the attempt to pay for groceries. Whilst fussing with a wallet, she recalls her own details, marked by a smile. “As I recall, he did trust you once, and… well, we nearly paid sorely for it.” More precisely, it was Bran who’d nearly paid, with his two feet dangling from a tree branch then having to be hastily pulled upward as the sword’s blade fractured and its shards flung about. But his name swells in her throat, too big a loss to voice with such ease. So Caoimhe leaves it at that, smile faded some now. It vanishes entirely as Gemma does, in fact, allow her some information. If blood still flowed in her veins, it would have drained from her face, Caoimhe is sure of it. Here she’d thought fate might’ve been done being so fickle with her, dead as she is. She was wrong, it would seem, for fate clearly hasn’t had its fill with her. “I… I don’t quite know.” She admits softly in answer to the trivial question, discovering too late that her own steps have stopped, her mouth agape like a child trying to fumble for an excuse when bound for a scolding. “You said…” Lilavati. Another name, a challenge to say for entirely separate reasons – mainly because she doubts she has the right. She’d relinquished it centuries ago. “You mean to tell me that… Lilavati, she’s your sister?” Those two girls raised in the same home, finding their way to her in different measures, by different means. The curse that Caoimhe murmurs in Sidhe is one usually reserved for special occasions – but this certainly feels special as she lowers herself to sit on a nearby bench, this shock quickly fatiguing. Now’s not the time to vanish. “You’ve known each other then for… for centuries. F-For how long, exactly?”

Was it such a revelation, that Lily was her sister? Gemma honestly couldn’t remember if she had ever mentioned her sister to Caoimhe in the past. On further thought, she might not have. It hadn’t been as if they had been on speaking terms when she was in and out of Caoimhe’s life, so why would she have? Yet now the older woman falters, her steps stop, and she sinks onto a bench before Gemma can process just what to do. “Not blood, I suppose my adoptive sister. She...let me start over.” Gemma said, sitting the bag on the end of the bench and taking a seat. It hurt less than the loss of her family, to brush at the edges of this story, but it still stung. Still, after the way Caoimhe reacted, clearly she needed to explain further before asking her own questions. “I don’t know who my parents were. I remember my father, I remember him kissing my forehead and telling me he would be back in a few hours and then...he wasn’t. So after a while I went looking for him, all of four years old. Lily found me in the woods half starved. Brought me home to her mothers.” Her mothers, not Gemma’s mothers, that felt like an important distinction to make. Lily wouldn’t have cared for it, but Lily had been the golden child, the wanted one. “Lily raised me more than Aru or Cherie did but we’d fought once we were older, and I got tired of it. Ran away to the human world. We weren’t on speaking terms till recently.” Gemma knew how much she disliked being prodded about things that hurt her, but Caoimhe was of a different ilk entirely. And she had to know, didn’t she? From Caoimhe, not from Lily. More likely to get some truth that way. “Why do you know Lily, Caoimhe? Why does that name hit you so hard? Who is she to you?”

Gemma Sundara’s attire and accoutrements for the 2021 Lethe Gala

“You manage.” It’s not disappointment in Caoimhe’s tone, necessarily, but it’s clear that she doesn’t exactly find that answer satisfactory. Living and managing are two different things – she’s not quite sure what her current state qualifies as, actually, but that’s a question for another time. “I did, but I imagine that even a lighthouse gets weary from the wear of constant storms. I doubt I need to tell you that I would much rather see you thriving than ‘getting by.’” Her tone is even, gaze remaining patiently on Gemma even as the younger woman obviously tries to avoid any true analysis. Patience was required even then to reach the unguarded truth with Gemma. She can only imagine what’s required nowadays. Still, she’s equipped with it – over a millennia of life will do that to a person, as will centuries spent jammed between realms. So she’ll be patient, as she is now, offering a full smile to Gemma’s half and a healthy laugh to boot. “I certainly didn’t mean you had to stop right this second. But it’ll do.” The comment about the smithy softens her smile some. It’s nice, isn’t it? Having a proper home again, even if it’s hot as a furnace some days. “Yes, that’s his. A lovely little operation, I’d say, though I’m more than a bit biased.” That fond smile wavers some at the next comment, and Caoimhe’s brow furrows. “Oh, Gemma,” she can only sigh for a moment, her head shaking. “I promise, it was hardly so simple. The circumstances, the way things were… once Bran was at the door…” Her voice falters for only a moment, but she’s quick to amend it. This isn’t the time, nor the place, nor the right company. Truly, she doesn’t know if any of those things exist. Best to tuck it away. “I mean to say that you can’t carry that guilt yourself. You may very well have suffered the same fate. Now,” she offers an arm and that same genial smile, miraculously returned. “Walk with me.” The weather is fair enough, considering, and Caoimhe takes her time as she walks back in the direction of the smithy. “Where in town are you living, exactly? Not that I know much about the coordinates of this place, but I’ll give it a go.”

That was the hell of it, she knew that Caoimhe felt such a way. Gemma, who doubted the motive of nearly everyone she crossed paths with, trusted Caoimhe more deeply than anyone else. So it didn’t seem trite that she wished Gemma had better, that she didn’t blame her for what had happened. Didn’t hurt less either, but it...well, she could accept it as truth. She shrugged off the comment that she didn’t have to stop shopping now, then takes the basket from Caoimhe’s hands. “I know it wasn’t. Nothing ever is, which is just absolute horseshit of the highest degree. But no, I only came in here for something I really don’t need. It’s fine.” Gemma lied, wanting to ease away from the subject and limit what pain it caused them both. Hers wasn’t as acute as Caoimhe’s but it was a match against sandpaper. That was a fire she didn’t want to light at the moment. What she wanted was to bask in the presence of her quasi mother, to feel a little of the solace she had felt in the time with her family years before. “I’ll have to ask your husband if he can sharpen up some of my knives. He never did trust me with any of his swords.” She said, loading up the belt with Caoimhe’s purchases. Her attempt to pay was met with a gentle swat and she sighed, but at least Caoimhe let her carry the bags. It was a simple question, but one that she didn’t quite like the answer to yet. Wasn’t sure if she’d stay there yet with the gulf of time between her and Lily. Still, she couldn’t lie to Caoimhe. “With my um...my sister Lilavati. Just for now, I’m looking for apartments in my spare time, but I haven’t been in town long. So, question, how did Faolan come up with such a cheesy name for his smithy? That kind of thing was always your forte, not his.”

Gemma Sundara, ex-FBI, and related to Lilavati Sundara. She seemed like a suitable candidate for the job– at least on paper. Hugh did not consult with Lilavati since he wasn’t entirely sure if she would be on board with the plan. He arranged the meeting outside the City Hall and at odd hour just for precaution. Hiring expert contractors is within his power, but he is taking a risk by going behind the Council’s back… “If my own health was ever a concern, Ms. Sundara,” Hugh deadpans, showing up at the location with a take-out cup full of espresso shots, “I would’ve stepped down from the Council long ago.” His doctor has been telling him to take a vacation for a year, now. But in all honesty, he fears what could block out the voices in his head if he doesn’t work. He sips his half-cold coffee in silence as Gemma shares her theory. His eyes are set on a streetlight on the other side. He sees a moth flying about, mesmerized by the light. “Well, I’m afraid I didn’t bring your trophy.” He gives a small shrug, hiding an amused smirk underneath the shadow. He does enjoy being around people who can keep up with him. “How would you like a job, Ms. Sundara? As an independent contractor, hunting down the arsonists in town and apprehending them.” 

That made her laugh despite herself. Hearing it from others was one thing, but hearing it and the dry tone of voice from the man himself? Priceless, really. So he didn’t much care for his own existence past the bare minimum, but he did care about this cesspit of a town, otherwise he wouldn’t spend his mortal years serving it. Or in it, one would hope. Hugh Stewart was not a sentimental man from what she had gathered out of the town grapevine, so what was it about this place that made him stay? A mystery for another time perhaps, but she was...intrigued. For now. “Bold words for a mortal man, Mr. Stewart. Then again, I’ve heard from the barista across the street that you’ve been seen drinking one of those cups full of espresso. More than once.” Gemma said, raising an eyebrow at him. No trophy but a job? She made a disappointed noise with her tongue, then favored him with a wan smile. Just enough to show adequate interest, but not enough to kiss any asses. How dedicated was he to his town, and to what facets? A little shit talking might get her some information there, and it was worth expressing. “Why councilman, are you insinuating that the Lethe police aren’t doing a good enough job with their uh...” She pretended to count on fingers, then let her hand fall to her lap again. “Zero actual culprits? Thousands of dollars in property damage? Months gone by with nothing at all? Tsk tsk.” Gemma looked him in the eyes then, eyes narrowed as she nodded at him. “What’s the hitch, Stewart? You have no reason to trust me and you aren’t my kind either. Full disclosure or I walk.”

Her people leave with cursory looks in his direction which he supposes is his karma for the theatrics. Worth it, still. Nathan raises a brow, somewhat amused at the notion any background checks will dredge things up like this. “Supernaturals are buried deeper than anything, no one wants that leaking out if someone gets a sudden urge for honesty. Only my handler and their higher-up know about mine,” he explains with sympathy. Nathan remembers during his first few weeks his thrill at being the only supernatural until his run in with her husband and the introduction to the few people like him the CIA employed. There’s an abandoned stool from one of her teammates and Nathan heads over to it, perched on the edge as he listens. “Fae, huh? I was leaning lamia, but fae tick some of the same boxes with that. Longevity, energy manipulation, so on. Didn’t see the sister thing, though I couldn’t find much on Sundara anyway. How old are you really then? I finally have the freedom to ask without blowing my cover.” The immortal ones are strange. Not his favorite supernatural, a shame when he seems to be making friends with exclusively them. Nathan offered a patient smile. At least she wasn’t trying to kill him, though he doesn’t entirely dismiss the possibility. “Shifter. Not as flashy, but fortunately comes with its own advantages.” He responds to her snark with just a shrug. “I’ve got connections still. I want to help out, make this place safe, all those heroic things people hate to hear and love to say. Does it matter?”

It didn’t make her feel any better, though it wasn’t a matter of being upset so much as being annoyed at her own idiocy. His daughter used to play with your son and what? You didn’t even suspect? Then again, it had been Gawain that saw him more often than Gemma herself. She let out a sigh, only to have it morph into a snort at his assumptions. “You were leaning lamia because I’m a bitch, lets be truly honest here. I guess I can be a little less pissed at myself given you didn’t pin down what I am. Only a little though.” Asking for her age was more amusing than anything else and she rolled her eyes as she sat down the hefty manila folder she’d been flicking through previously now that she’d realized she hadn’t been processing anything in it since he walked in. Gawain trusted Nate, Gawain liked Nate, and as soft as he could be in some circumstances, there was heft to that recommendation, even seven years on. Her knee jerk reaction was to clam up and tell him nothing more than he’d figured out, but clearly they were past that point. He knew more than she would have told him and he was...well, he was from before. Had that seal of approval from the only person she trusted implicitly, and he had the skills they needed. Well, she needed. “Old enough to know better. If you thought you were going to get a good answer out of me there, you’re losing your touch.” She replied, dragging a computer chair over so she could stop hovering over him as if he was going to stab her in the back. “Time, among many other things, is fucked up where I come from. I’ve been here since before this was even a country and that’s all you’re getting.” Gemma narrowed her eyes at his answer, unimpressed. Shifters she didn’t know much about, so she’d have to bullshit now and research later. “Hate to follow through on, more like. What’s the real reason? You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”

I. BASIC

FULL NAME: Gemma Sundara (born Aoibheann Ó Muireadhaigh) NICKNAME(S): Gem DATE OF BIRTH: Winter, roughly 800+ years ago NATIONALITY: American (adoptive) OCCUPATION: Head of the Security Task Force in Lethe, formerly FBI agent RELIGION: None, formerly polytheistic GENDER IDENTITY: Cisgender ORIENTATION: Demiromantic demisexual ETHNICITY: Fae (aes sídhe) SPECIES: Fae (Otherlander)

II. APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: Jessica Matten HEIGHT: 5′9″ WEIGHT: 145 lbs HAIR COLOR: Dark brown EYE COLOR: Dark brown DOMINANT HAND: Left SCARS: None, Fae healing took care of them. TATTOOS: Multiple, to be detailed in a later post. PIERCINGS: Three in each ear lobe, one helix piercing on left ear

III. BACKGROUND

HOMETOWN: The Otherlands CURRENT RESIDENCE: Lethe, Washington, USA FINANCIAL STATUS: Upper middle class EDUCATION LEVEL: Educated by her adoptive mothers until adulthood, in mortal world took many courses over the years and officially holds a M.A. in criminal justice

IV. RELATIONSHIPS

FATHER: Dempsey Ó Muireadhaigh (deceased) MOTHER: Cherie Sundara (deceased) SIBLINGS: Lilavati Sundara (adoptive sister/cousin) FAMILY: Ezra Bevan (son / deceased), Gawain Bevan (partner / deceased) PET(S): None

V. PERSONALITY

MYERS-BRIGGS: ISTJ-A ENNEATYPE: Type 5, The Investigator MORAL ALIGNMENT: True Neutral TEMPERAMENT: Choleric HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin ELEMENT: Fire SIN: Wrath VIRTUE: Diligence SPOKEN LANGUAGES: Sidhe, English, Spanish, some Farsi and Arabic

VI. FAVORITES

@hugh-stewart​

Was it necessary to wear all black for a moonlight meeting with her sister’s colleague? No, but it was pretty damned funny once she thought about it. Stereotypical too, but useful given she sat away from a streetlight and could blend in a tad if she needed to. Not that she expected she would. What she dug up on short notice about this Hugh was that he was a workaholic, a lawyer, and that it was going to be impossible to break into his office at city hall given he hardly ever left it. Pity, that. “I’m going to assume that I’m not out here for my health or yours, councilman. You seem to only take time out of your day for work and more work, no matter the hour.” Gemma said, stepping out of the shadow of an oak tree to a spot within spitting distance of a light. She wasn’t a witch and they were meeting late at night, so it wasn’t strictly council business either, most likely. She nodded towards a bench that was half lit, then took a seat on the left hand side. The councilman followed, but hardly seemed pleased about it. “If it was official business, you’d be talking to my sister. You were in my intake interview, so you know more about my history than most. So let me guess here, Mr. Stewart. You’re looking for something done on the sly and you need someone with a background like mine. FBI, counterintelligence, etc.” She paused, favoring him with a half smile. “Am I close to the mark? No, don’t tell me. Just cut to the chase.”

Date: 05 May 2021 Time: mid-evening Location: unspecified garage status: closed with @gemmasundara

He hears the rumors about a Gemma Sundara in town long before he hears about her heading some security team, but he doesn’t quite believe it until he’s walking into the garage. Nathan frowns, hands in his pockets. “This is all very secretive, I know, so I’m a little offended you didn’t seek me out. I am the secrets guy after all,” he says as a greeting once there’s a lull in conversation long enough for him to announce himself. Only one person seems to startle at his presence, and either the rest noticed his arrival or hide their surprise. He waits, patient, as the group calls a break and only then approaches her, wary of the reception he’ll receive. This is the first time he’s spoken to her with nearly all his cards on the table, after all. “Guess there’s no going back to pretending to be human - this is long overdue, isn’t it?” Not that he’d thought her human in that sense since their second meeting, but he merely continues on, curiosity in his tone. “Truth be told, I didn’t think you gravitated to supernatural havens, you always seemed to prefer the anonymity of the human world.”

It’s the fact that she didn’t realize that burns her ass. Not the fact that he waltzed into the rented garage like he had been invited or the look on his face, which just adds fuel to that fire scorching her hindquarters. “Take a break, people. Go... I don’t fucking know, get lunch. Ginny, take my card with you.” Gemma barked at her freshly minted ‘team’, who seemed more surprised by the generosity than her tone of voice or the shock on her face. They froze like startled deer, then Gemma made shooing motions that sent them filing out the door. This was not a ‘share with the group’ conversation, in her opinion. “What the fuck, Marchand! Do you know how many background checks I did on you? And none of them dredged up the fact you aren’t human. Absolute fucking bullshit, I swear...” She said once the room was just her and Nathan. Safe, to some extent. Well, safer than previously. Oh there he went, psychoanalyzing her to her face again. That at least was familiar, if the rest of him seem alien in the moment with this bombshell dropped. “Before you go digging, and don’t lie, I know you will, I’m Fae. The councilwoman is my sister. I’m...listen, we don’t really count ages the same where I come from.” Gemma said before he could open his mouth again, arms crossed in front of her chest. Oh, he drove her nuts, this man. And yet of everyone else she’d bumped into in this town, she counted him high on the list of those she trusted. Still, reciprocity was expected. “So, secrets guy, what are you actually? And why are you inviting yourself to this supposedly secret task force? They stop hiring underwear models in your age group?”

“Well, the pesto’s not exactly for me.” Caoimhe is nothing else if not good for a joke to soothe an uneasy mood, though it does little here. Gemma had always been more challenging to truly put at ease than most people she knew. Seems all the more challenging now, the hardness behind her eyes practically palpable even without empathy, though there’s clearly hurt there. Caoimhe can only hope to ease it. Pessimistic, maybe, but she doubts she’ll be able to accomplish it, what with the centuries between them now. “I’m sorry you had to see that. From what I remember… it was quite the scene.” She offers more gently, not sure if any sort of effort will chip away at the practical scowl the other woman wears. Little to do, really. “Anyhow, seems my fae status has been revoked and replaced with that of a regular specter. Who knew?” To know Gemma is to know that you’re not going to reach a breakthrough in the middle of a grocery store. Still, Caoimhe’s head tilts out of some sort of maternal instinct. “That he did.” She offers simply in regards to her husband, though there’s so much more to say. That’s not what she wants to discuss at present, though. “Did you have someone to care for you, though? Don’t tell me you were alone all this time.” But that seems more likely than not, and it makes Caoimhe sigh, biting back another apology. What good will those do now? “I did, after quite a bit of trying and failing. We’re fortunate.” This feels a bit too heavy to be small talk, but still, it’s hardly the pressing matters. She won’t get those here, though, and so: “Do you have much shopping left to do? I’d love to have you back to our place to chat properly. I can’t quite drink tea myself, but I’d be more than happy to fix you up some. If you’re willing.”

God, how could she try to offer Gemma comfort after what was done to her? Maybe it made her a bad person that she couldn’t fathom such a thing, or maybe...well, no need to delve deep into her psyche in the pasta aisle. Faolan and Caoimhe’s relationship had always been something she envied. Idolized, even. Being accepted into their little family had been one of the happiest times of her life, which was probably why Caoimhe was so good at getting under her skin. More a mother than her own mothers ever were to her, honestly. Gemma watched Caoimhe curiously, having seen very little of these shades thus far, and lost in her own thoughts, she realized that her not-quite mother had asked her a question with a jolt. “I...once upon a time. Not any longer, but I manage. What was it you called me back then? A stalwart? So I get by.” Gemma answered finally, shifting uncomfortably as an answer too close to her true feelings tumbled out. Did she have more shopping to do? Not really. Tea with Caoimhe was arguably far better than shopping and the pesto would be here later. As much as it put her on edge, she almost longed for the company of someone who knew her. The woman she was here, not the girl she was in the Otherlands. She and Lily were working on things, but Caoimhe arguably knew her better these days. An empty plastic basket was held up for Caoimhe to see and Gemma shrugged, offering her a half smile. “I can be done, sure. I don’t spend a lot of time chatting in the store, not with all these ears around us. He’s got what, the smithy? I heard something through the grapevine about that.” Gemma sat the basket back in the rack at the end of the aisle, then returned to Caoimhe’s side. “I’m sorry. For what happened to you, I mean. I should have been there, maybe it would have helped. Saved you all.”

“A change of scenery?” She repeats slowly. Emotions are finicky things, and reading them is just as tedious, but there is no stopping the surge of shock in the room. It’s near tangible, and it makes her head hurt, unsure of whether it’s coming from herself or from Gemma. Confusion beneath it, and maybe a little fear, though Lily knows this is from herself as Gemma builds her own walls. Lily shakes it off with Gemma’s words, trying to remember how long it had been since such an idyllic life. “Yes, I can see how this would be markedly different than the Otherlands nowadays, though I see this realm surpassed parts of ours a long time ago.” Lily tugs hard at her emotions until the confusing tangle is shucked away, deciding to focus on the facts. Cold, hard. Unchangeable. Easier by all means, too. “Why wouldn’t I? They were my home. They and everyone in the village were my family.” You are, too, she thinks, though she tilts her head instead of saying it, unwilling to think too much about the family they no longer have. Aru is there, somewhere, but she hasn’t seen that mother in nearly a century. Lily blinks, and out slips the things she doesn’t want to say. “I know we fought before you left, but I did not think you would go so far. I always thought you would come back.” A hesitant pause and then she pulls out one of the chairs to sit down, deciding this isn’t quite the conversation to have standing up. “Were you at least happier here?”

What had Lily done in the years since they parted? The older that Gemma got, the more convinced she was that staying the Otherlands was like sitting on a treadmill. An endless loop of drama with no satisfactory ending, few real consequences. You didn’t get one with immortals, it seemed. Stakes were too low, even if they could die with enough effort. But here, in this world? Everything felt more real and more painful for the reality of it. Maybe that was what deepened the gulf between them, the fact that Gemma had been galvanized here instead or maybe it was just time, standing ankle deep in things unsaid. Either way, it made Gemma sigh audibly as the door shut. “Yours, sure. I was never more than a burden made to be shouldered to them, Lilavati. And the only thing that made it home for me was you.” She said after a long pause, trying her best to keep her tone neutral. Flat. Her emotions were her own, her sister was still her sister, but still a stranger too, these days. Come back? “To what? A home I wasn’t really wanted in? A world that leaves you stuck in the mud, mired in the same crises over and over because people there refuse to change as the centuries roll by?” Anger was good, she could work with anger, but then Lily threw a sucker punch her way by asking if she had been happier here. Had she? For a time, such a short time that it was desperately cruel to even think about anymore. Her harsh stance softened slightly, she bit her lip and finally looked her sister full in the face. “Was. Past tense, Lily.” Gemma frowned, then shook her head. “Why do you care after all this time?”

Date: February 23 2021 Time: 2:45 pm Location: A general store, it would seem

@gemmasundara​

It was the music that drew her in these doors. A passerby had entered first and she’d heard the vocals drift out onto the street. Well, she was set on exploring, and what better to discover than some music? What she found upon entering, however, wasn’t a lively band and a joyful crowd. No, these were simply customers wandering as the music emitted from, well, the ceiling. Not satisfied by that discovery, Caoimhe had frowned, but there had been more to explore. Aisles and aisles of things, like the markets and stores they’d traveled to from their glen in Ireland. Larger, though, and cold, and with so many new items to take note of. The world in the last few days has seemed almost completely composed of new things – how shocking, then, to round a corner and almost run smack into someone strikingly familiar. “Oh!” Caoimhe halts quickly, fumbling with the bottle in her hands thanks to the sudden movement and the sheer surprise. It’s set aside, and Caoimhe blinks a few times as if clearing her vision. “Gemma – it’s really you?” Of course, she’d focused mainly on her suffering husband over these whirlwind, distant years. But she had seen glimpses of her old friend, now and then. Still, though, this comes as a shock. “I’d no idea you were here – I’ve only just arrived, myself, I…” There’s so much to say, to explain, to ask about. But a few things seem more important than most, and an anxious hand runs down her scarred throat before Caoimhe settles into them. “Gemma, I’m so sorry. If I’d known how to reach out to you, I would have. We didn’t mean to leave you the way we did, love.” We – herself, Faolan, and of course, the children, whose images in her mind still ache. “How are you? Alright, I hope?”

It seemed like Lethe was seven miles of the world’s most hellish reunion episode these days. She’d run into her sister, then two people she had worked with off and on in her FBI days, and now...Caoimhe? This place was a fucking nightmare, clearly. Or she was hallucinating, she wasn’t sure at this point which was worse. “You died. I know you died, I saw the graves after the fact. So why...no, how exactly are you shopping for pesto right now?” Gemma said flatly, trying to look less affected than she actually was. Squared shoulders, lips pressed into a thin line, but she was sure that the eyes gave it away. Just arrived? Just arrived, hmm. What did she know about Lethe thus far? It’s a mess, public events are to be avoided, and ah. The faint way that Caoimhe is and isn’t quite solid clicks something in her head. Shades. It was far easier to dig through her head for hard facts than deal with the gut punch of being apologized to by the only mother figure she found after leaving home apologize for being killed. Gave her a moment to breathe, to drag herself away from any precipices that might make her spill her guts about the time they were apart and what losses she had sustained during those years. We? Gemma frowned, then nodded. “He had things to deal with, grief to nurse. I wouldn’t blame you in a thousand years for what happened to you, let alone him for taking time to try to heal his wounds after the fact.” She said, realizing as she shifted her basket on her arm that she could feel emotions battering at her with every word, trying to slip out further than they had already. “You found him again, right? If anyone deserves to find the one they love again, it’s you two.”

Date: 19 February 2021 Time: 11:50AM Location: police station

@gemmasundara​

She could see why her predecessors left. After a conversation with some rambling, slow speaking cop who takes several minutes to reach the point he wants to share, Lily wanted to rip her hair out. She didn’t, deciding it wasn’t worth the fuss as she breezed from one area to the next, walking into the police station with a frown around the building. More mazelike than City Hall, but a great deal more plain, too, not at all like the jails of the Otherlands. “So, wait, I’m here for a fae? Who is causing trouble?” she asked, dubious, waiting outside the door alongside a sallow-faced woman who seemed unnerved by her own job. Or the fae they were going to find, possibly. A most unwelcome one if they were calling Lily down to talk with them, as if she could do little more than be the person-shaped punching bag for their verbal ire. Still, it was part of the job, and she waved off their offer to stand in the room with her and swept inside the room, closing the door on them with a smile of thanks. “Did you know they call the council down here for every little reason? It’s almost like they can’t– No?” Her words cut off, fingers twitching at her side, a knee-jerk reaction to fiddle with the bracelet on her wrist. No, because there is no way that she would find her here after centuries, one lead after another failing. She found her words, and crept closer with a shake of her head, exasperation mixed with happiness. “It was no wonder I couldn’t find any trace of you in the Otherlands. Have you been here this entire time?”

It had been a long time since Gemma had been labeled a public nuisance, but apparently today was just her day. A long lecture about ‘proper channels and procedures’, two profoundly awful cups of styrofoamy coffee, and now...Lily. Her council representative, that was what they had said, but if she had known just who that was she might have asked to go to the bathroom and shimmied out a window. What do you say after hundreds of years to someone you worshiped all your early life, whom you loved like a sister and on some level still did? Especially after you ran out on her without a word, a note, anything to say why you were leaving? Gemma wasn’t sure, but it took a long moment of staring for her to feel composed enough to shove her feelings back where they belonged. Under lock and key, obviously. “Needed a change of scenery. All those years of forests and pretty villages started to get to me.” She lied, narrowing her eyes at the nosy police officer still lingering in the doorway. Lily shooed them away and then, only then did she feel a little more at ease. Not perfectly, but she had to test the waters more. See where they stood. Lily seemed moved, felt like she was overflowing with a mixture of happiness and confusion once Gemma could focus enough to get a read on her. More than she had expected. “Yes, Lils. I found a portal, I came here. Moved around a fair bit, wherever the winds took me.” Had Lily stayed there all this time? Gemma frowned, then nodded at her sister. “You stayed? Not with the mothers, I hope.”