Rose Colored Glasses

"Every time we go back and forth we take a risk to expose ourselves and compromise the safety of the thousands of the Quincy that have take refuge here.' Jugram thought that should be obvious, but she appeared genuinely clueless and clearly lost. Rather than some kind of a tantrum as he originally assumed.

'And trust me. I know how daunting it can be.' Some of the decisions he had to make, two hundreds years ago, to keep this place safe would probably haunt him for the rest of his days.

'There isn't one Quincy here, His Majesty and I included, that would rather not be anywhere else, did we have the choice. But it is what it is.' There was no need to sugar coat the truth. Hiding within the Shadow of Soul Society was humiliating and dreadful. Aside from the huge amount of reishi available here, there was nothing dreamy about it. The best they could do was acknowledge it was only a temporary measure, for the best of everyone's sake.

Jugram raised an eyebrow at the mention of her upbringing and her parents. Her questioning left him perplexed for a moment. Had her parents not tell her about her lineage? He'd heard of cases where families kept their heritage a secret in an attempt to protect the younger generations. And well, himself he had known little of his own heritage until he met Yhwach, but times had changed since then.

'Have a seat. I'll answer your questions and explain.' He pointed to the chair on the other side of his desk, seeing she was already all over the place

'Yes, at least one of your parents has to be a Quincy for you to be one. It's inherited.' He then paused, considering the best way to deliver this new knowledge to her, in regards to her current state.

'But first, tell me, how did you find out you were one, then? If not for your parents telling you?' He asked, deciding to go steps by steps and take the reigns of the conversation, as not to further overwhelm her with information.

River was a timid thing around Jugram. A bit so around most of the Sternritter with the exception of Bambietta. It felt as if she were the only one that had accepted River for what she was though one can never be certain with anyone within the Wandenreich.

She would find her way to the seat he mentioned, and sit with her hands rested in her lap and head slightly bowed. A weak smile offered towards the man. A way to ease the tension in her form, perhaps, or simply out of politeness.

"Well." She took a breath in, and slowly exhaled, "All I know is my parents were very.. um... Sorta skittish? We lived in Norway initially. I guess... Something must have happened because everyone started acting really strange. People I knew fell ill.. Some of them died... Then my parents took me away from Norway to America where I ended up basically growing up."

Fingers gently toy with something just within the front of her uniform. Something that she seems to always keep her fingers near; a pendent tucked beneath the striking white of her attire. Like a soothing warmth concealed within its form, offering her a sense of security despite her inner turmoil.

Jugram might sense it. The low frequency from a pendent; an altered Quincy Cross fused with something that had kept her hidden for the duration of her life. The impressions of her ancestry embedded into its form; a true family heirloom passed on to keep her safe.

Tempered glass vessels over focused flames, alchemical solutions and various fluids to drip, boil, merge, and mix over time. Bubbling, gurgling, gaseous fumes siphoning off through tubes and openings in the glass, the storm of his eyes blindly tracing the shapes and curves, textures and colors of it all. His hands curled over the edge of the table and he leaned on them, wincing in passing, only vaguely noting the Maeve's sneeze above the repetitive alchemical noise, let alone his thoughts.

It would be hours before he could take the next step in the process and in that time, he would have other ingredients to prepare. Reducing the liquids down to the desirable viscosity then adding the paste would come before, but after, the addition of minced beholder eyes pickled in snap-trap digestive fluids would come next - and it had to be freshly done, lest the enzymes in the flesh be rendered inert. Miniscule, inconvenient halflives, but such as it were.

He couldn't stand to catalogue his every action like this, his every plan, when all this was as natural to him as breathing no matter how focused his attention had to be. So, he pushed away from the table and made his way across the room instead, buzzing about in search of his cabinet of jarred eyes. Swinging open carven doors and running his fingers over masking tape labels, feeling her eyes on him as he went, and just as he found and palmed at the jar of beholder eyes - slimy slick monstrosities floating in thick fluids - he cast a glance over his shoulder.

All at once, he closed the cabinet and returned to the table, setting the jar aside, wondering how he must've looked to her. Intriguing, or worrisome? No doubt, he hadn't been doing much to help her get some rest, busying himself with matters easier handle. Still...

"...Y'okay?" he asked plainly, uncharacteristically quiet and calm. "Need anythin'?"

It wasn't as if he hadn't cared to stop and sit down with her. Rather, in a sense, he was avoiding the discomfort of a conversation he knew might've been coming, the unpredictability of what it could entail. He was waiting for blame, for a slew of emotions to come bubbling to the surface, for the words that wouldn't come to him, the pains of experiences shared and danced around in favor of what little comfort they could each glean-- So many what ifs circulating in his head he didn't have the heart to articulate even to himself. So many if onlys. Many more apologies to follow. He wasn't sure what bothered him more, however, that he was sorry, sorrier still, or that in some ways, he wasn't.

Looking at her now felt like an ice burn, he was sure of that. She was pretty, a sun to set on a bank of dark clouds, and there was strength and warmth in those eyes, but there was little else he could see but the dirt and grime of a bloodstained rathole, the terror within them, the bruises to smooth skin, knots and filth in orange hair. She was kind, and gentle, and though her spirit hadn't been broken, he could only play it back over and over in his head, finding her. Plucking her from the mess.

This had never effected him before, with other people; Why, oh why, was it effecting him now?

What was he making? She hadn't thought to ask. All she knew was he looked very focused, and didn't want to interrupt whatever concentration was necessary to succeed in his current project. Maybe - for just a moment, she would rest her head. Let her eyes shut for a second to chase away the subtle fatigue she felt crept behind eyelids. Fogged out memories fading into the backdrop. Perhaps just a moment to rest and rejuvenate. This looked time consuming. It was better she find other things to pass the time than stare, right?

His voice would pull her from that brief reprieve into a faint dream. Her response a touch delayed, but given none the less. "I'm okay." Maeve offered with a gentle smile, "Just.. glad to be here. That's all." A little fatigued. A little stubborn, determination to last as long as she could.

He really seemed like he needed to maintain his attention so she thought better than to constantly bombard him with questions and attempts at conversations. As much as she wanted to. That was the fear she felt - being a bother. Putting him in a precarious position with her yammering on, so she doesn't say anything else unless she's addressed.

"Are you okay?" Did he expect her not to ask? Only when he was on the move. When he had approached the sofa, her gaze drifting down his form. His face, his clothes, his hands.. Everything she might see with his actions. The blanket drooped off her shoulder slightly with loose curls fallen into her features. Ignored if only because she had become attentive to his hands. Was he okay? Did he need a break?

" JUST KEEP THE CUTS CLEAN . make no real mess . "

This was not what she had gone to school for. What she had dedicated countless hours towards refining her medical knowledge. This didn't help anyone and it made the task all the more daunting for the young Quincy.

muse relationship headcanon game

I hope all the happy people out there explode!

Blink blink

It was that satisfying pop of the cap that revived him, bestowing upon him the ability to rise again~

"Up we get~!" With what was probably a good hunk of the Planet's nice crusty 'epidermis' with him, but never mind! He stretched his arms high up over his head with a hearty yawn, some loud joint or another popping pleasantly. Legit as though he were a hibernating creature now come back to life.

Swamp monster or not, his smile was bright as he reached to accept the 'elixir' taking a healthy swig! "Ah! Better already~" Not dead yet, apparently!

"Oh yeah! I remember. Pffft, don't worry about it. That shit happens to us all. I bet you're jealous now, right? You could look this good." Caked in mud from head to toe, and who knew what else?? Who wouldn't want that kind of life??

Pushing back to a stand, she shakes off the back of her jacket and tries to do similarly to her pants. But it doesn't even remotely dislodge the slop that now clung to her. "I dunno about jealous." The woman considered thoughtfully, teasing softly as she continued, "But hey if I looked that good caked in mud, I'd consider myself pretty lucky."

Now it's her turn to pop open a beer. Warm, but that first swig is still refreshing. Arms fold casually with the beer loosely held in her grip, "Ah -- well.. I sorta.. bailed on ShinRa." The woman confessed a touch timidly, "I really wanted to be a SOLDIER but.. Guess I wasn't cut out for it." But -- "That's okay though!" Immediate 180 from the momentary drop in mood. Disappointment vanished and replaced by a bright smile, "I've been busy trying to help people impacted by the plate falling. Actually why I'm here now. Trying to find medicinal herbs for the sick and wounded."

There River went again, laying another slap against Jin, leading him to stand there unfazed and roll his eyes at her. Jin thought that after the first time, River would have realized she couldn't hope to harm him-- maybe it would sink in the second time around?

The steeling of River's demeanor was a somewhat welcomed change of pace for Jin, though. Jin could tell that River was still opposed to him and the situation he had thrust upon her, but at least she wasn't panicking anymore, outwardly anyway, from what he could see.

"All this hospitality I show you and I'm met with only strikes and cold glares," Jin flippantly says as the winds continue churning around him and River, the two rising higher and higher into the air, "I hope this doesn't become a running theme for us; we will never become close friends at this rate."

Starting to churn faster than before, the winds circling Jin and River would now see them soaring in the night sky, the building they were on before (along with all others in the town below) now seeming so small and far away beneath the clouds. Still above the two of them, however, was a large aircraft, one they were quickly approaching.

"Although, I'm sure you will come around. One way or the other, everyone always does."

Jin says that because individuals far more hostile than River had been integrated into the freakish menagerie of followers and allies he had cobbled together so far-- individuals that she might be meeting soon, as a matter of fact.

The roar of a jet engine was soon upon Jin and River, blaring over the winds that spun around them, though they would not have to endure it for long. Jin and River would soon be funneled in through the large open doors at the back of the aircraft, the winds dying down as the bay door closed behind them.

There to greet Jin and River in the cargo bay were a group of people River likely would have never seen before. Most of them stare on quietly, though their reactions to River are.... varied. One orange haired man in particular scoffs at River and mutters something along the lines of 'not another fucking one', while a bespectacled blonde woman stares at River and then rolls her eyes at Jin before walking off. Conversely, a tall, mechanical looking figure nods their head in River's direction, and a ominous individual waves at her ecstatically, a wide grin stretched across their ghastly visage.

After she had a moment to get her bearings within the aircraft, the young woman looked around at those who were present. Brows knitted upward slowly at the variety therein. Who -- What -- were these people? Based on Jin's strange powers, she can't imagine they were actually normal humans.

But why her then? She really had nothing to offer unless he'd taken some interest in her medical training.

Her head snapped back towards Jin when he spoke again. A hand again sweeping out to slap. Then another, and another, wailing on the man with open palms to strike at him in every which-way she could.

"Drittstøvel!" Again, and again, and again, just unleashing a fury of angry words towards him, "You find me after I've finished my shift; after I pass out suddenly, take me to some building to corner me -- You disgusting Bytting! You selfish jerk!" She's not letting up. The ire dripping from her words, and her actions is palpable. It doesn't have to be threatening or effective. It's anger. It's disappointment, and disgust and disapproval of what he'd decided to do.

She's even going so far as to try to strike him with her backpack, swinging it around wildly over and over again, "What did you do when I was passed out!?" Brazenly challenging him at every opportunity, and not letting him walk away if he bothered to try. Sure he could shut her up. Hurt her. But there's not a lot more he can do after having stolen her from the life she worked hard to build. "Got a taste, you disgusting pervert!?"

❛  how are you feeling? do you need any help?  ❜

"That's really kind of you to ask, thank you."

What a normal conversation to have~ A positive exchange of words, one after another, as suited to the current situation as a tick to a nice warm ass.

"Thing is---" Zack heaved a sigh, not at all appearing even remotely ready to rise from his position flat on his back, in the muddy backwaters of some distant land. Truthfully, he'd been there so long, he was pretty sure the mud had suctioned him in that very spot. Probably needed a chisel to begin the process of rising from the dead.

"I'm most certainly feeling a lot things, most of which could likely fit the bill for the help wanted ads. But I've reached a point where I've had enough, yeah? And thus, I've given up. Handed in the towel, waved the white flag. But don't let it get you down. You asked, and that's more than about----" He ran through a quick calculation. "I'd say about half a dozen people that walked past me. 'Nother Tuesday, I guess, for them, seeing prone bodies just laying there."

"That doesn't sound great." She confessed, "I mean people are worried about their own things. And yeah it sucks when they just walk by, but you can't really be mad at them for that, can you?"

She's digging through her backpack when he'd inquired on her appearance. Eyes immediately back upon him with warmth rushing her cheeks, "Ah oh... You recognize me, huh?" Feeling a bit sheepish in that fact. She must look dreadful! If it were some stranger, it might not have been bad, but -- if he recognized her... Oh no... if the super cute SOLDIER actually realized who she was --

"I - uh - well -- I sorta.. I mean -- I was kinda a klutz the one time I was assigned to work with you.. Like... Really clumsy. Probably why I never made it to SOLDIER." She's smiling, but there's a subtle forcefulness to it. It's embarrassment more than humor at this point. "S-sorry." Which was about the time she'd pulled two bottles of now warm beer from the backpack, popping the cap off one the edge of a random rock before she'd offer one to him.