queenofheartsrp | six. [video]

six. [video]

[ Caprica has been back in the Gardens for four days now, without any contact with anyone except for Epsilon. The more time passes, the easier she finds it to keep her distance. Without other things to occupy her mind, however, it's more difficult to distract herself from thoughts of Gaius and D'Anna, or of Hera and what will happen to her on Galactica. A small part of her takes some strength, some clarity and focus from the pain, the bitterness and anger and guilt and worry. She is used to bearing a weight like this alone. The majority of her sibling Cylons would not understand, and no human in her world would want or care to understand. And in any case, it is solely hers to bear and she would not ask someone else to take it on.

The uncertainty, on the other hand, is wearing at her. Protecting Hera had been a certainty, something she had held to desperately in an instant of understanding that this was what God wanted from her, that the future of the Cylon race rested with one little girl. And if there is something Caprica has always wanted — despite everything — it has been to safeguard her people. Now that that has been taken away from her, she is left foundering in the lack of surety. Should she try to go back to the way things were before she left the Gardens, or try to continue to maintain her distance from the others? The women here, after all, have done her no wrong. But she still remembers her own words — I gave your people a chance, and for what? I'm a Cylon, Gaius. I lost sight of that. And the jagged wound in her heart is still fresh enough, the bitterness still deep enough. Love wasn't enough to bridge the gap.

The Vine seems to have its own ideas, however. Caprica is in the kitchen, having poured herself a full glass of ambrosia — she is quite resolutely avoiding the upstairs bedroom, which echoes with ghosts of old memories she wants to avoid even more than usual — when the plant sneaks across the floor and winds a tendril of itself rather forwardly around her wrist. She gasps a little, startled, and almost drops her glass. Her hands steady a moment later, and she regards the Vine briefly, considering. Then she lets out a breath and touches it gently with slim fingers, watching the mirror unfurl. It's a moment, as she turns the glass of alcohol between her fingers as if in thought, before she speaks. ]

The Queen must have seen fit to let me go home for a little while.

[ And that really is all she's going to say on that particular subject, her voice a little dry before she goes back to a more relaxed tone — a bit more distant than her usual, but not what one would call unfriendly. She keeps her eyes on the mirror when she speaks, despite every temptation to let the focus of her gaze go elsewhere. ]

I'm surprised this place is still here — the house. That it didn't disappear.

[ It might have been easier if it had; she wouldn't have recreated it. Caprica moves away from the kitchen proper to the dining table, sits down in one of the high-backed chairs, settling her ambrosia on the table with a clink of glass on glass. ]

I suppose it's become part of the Gardens in its own way.

[ There are things that a considerable part of her would very much like to do, like apologize, or ask after Jackie and Dominique. She is very careful not to do either one. Her expression is carefully reserved; only someone who knows her would recognize the sea of emotion roiling underneath that fine veneer of polite detachment. ]

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( Unfortunately - or maybe fortunately, depending on perspective - Jules isn't all that familiar with Caprica. She's familiar with keeping some things under wraps, but sometimes awareness of the subtlety and nuances of others of others is beyond her, until she's had a chance to understand and memorise how they operate.

Still, even if she did, odds are she'd have the same kind of full-force enthusiasm, act as if it were all fine. She's lounging at the beach, but the Vine catches her attention, so she pushes up her sunglasses, grins, and gives a little wave. ) Oh! Caprica, welcome back!

It's lovely to see you again. You're looking very well, actually. ( Hmm, and a pause. ) I don't suppose 'jet lag' would really cover moving between worlds entirely adequately, hm?

( But, back to the matter at hand. Welcoming! ) How are you? How was home?

[ It's fairly obvious where the other woman is — Epsilon had told Caprica someone had created an ocean, though it hadn't perhaps been exactly what was expected. Visiting the beach had been one of her favorite things to do when she had been living on the Colonies, back before the fall, and it's hard to suppress the surge of slight envy. She will have to go herself, she thinks, even if she has the idea she should perhaps avoid the water. But staying at a safe distance doesn't seem to hurt.

Caprica catches herself almost smiling at Jules's enthusiasm — there's a slight curve to her lips, but she presses them together a moment later, suppressing it carefully. ]

No, I don't suppose it would.

[ The next question and the reminder it brings sting a bit. She takes a swallow of her drink to cover it. ]

I'd rather not talk about it.

[ There's a steady decisiveness to her tone of voice and her expression that is meant to shut that line of questioning down, though whether it will be effective or not, Caprica doesn't know. ]

Oh. ( Hm. That... rather puts a stopper on her bubbly stream of enthusiasm, her brows furrowing for just a moment. Well, she didn't always want to talk about home, either, so maybe Caprica just wasn't having the best day. Maybe she just needed cheering up, and maybe talking about something else would help. Jules nods to herself, a little bit more determined than you might expect from a casual little motion. )

Mm. It can be a bit like that. ( Naturally, she means 'home'. Not that she knows personally; her home life is extraordinarily easy, but if people have a rough time where she's from, and there are already so many different between worlds, then it would stand to reason that things could be even more complicated than anything she'd even heard of other people encountering. )

Maybe we should come up with a word for it. Or, and maybe rather more excitingly, there could be some kind of celebration for you making it back here all right! ( Celebration for being trapped in a world not your own. Novel, Jules. She ignores the inherent awkwardness of what she just said, and grins at Caprica. ) What say you? You seem like you could use some fun.

( Because, naturally, that is what being so very controlled means. )

[ Caprica is aware, after this much time spent in the Gardens, that most people's worlds aren't like hers. Most of the women here haven't fought in war against an enemy that refuses to acknowledge their very personhood, not to mention their right to exist. And she can't imagine that Jules has ever lost sight of something so fundamental as her own nature before.

So she can forgive her some degree of misunderstanding. Caprica smiles, this time, but it's very thin, and still quite detached. Fun. At another time, Caprica would not have minded a party, even if she would have balked at hosting one in her own honor. But right now— ]

I don't think that's really the best idea.

[ She's not going to outright tell Jules no, but she can still articulate her feelings on the matter. ]

No?

( Ah. She might wilt visually, but just a little. ) Maybe another time! When you're less, hmm. Jetlagged. Or a fondue night, those can be very fun. Do you-- hm. Do you have fondue, in your world? It's wonderful, you melt cheese -- or chocolate sometimes, depending -- and then you have these long forks that you use to dip things into the melted cheese or chocolate. It's very yummy. Scrumptious, even! I would go so far as to say scrumptious.

( Gosh, she feels a bit... awkward. Like there's some significance that she is missing, or maybe just that she's got something between her teeth and Caprica is too polite to say, and she's just trying to fill in that little awkward crater with words, but it's, uh. Well, her ramble comes to a gradual halt, and she smiles a bit.

And this would be Jules discretely covering her mouth with her hand, so that she can check for said catastrophe. )

Once you've settled back in, obviously. It could be nice to do something to relax. Actually, I'm rather thinking of organising a housewarming of sorts for Gabrielle's block of flats. It'd be nice if you came!

( These may or may not be a very hopeful smile. Tenserefinedlady, enjoy yourself! ) There could even be fondue. Both varieties.

[ Yes, Caprica is familiar with fondue. And she can appreciate Jules's enthusiasm — or, at the very least, she would appreciate it more if she was in a better mood. She would respond to it more if she was in a better mood.

She traces a fingertip along the rim of her glass, draws in a breath, and concedes, quietly, ] I'll keep it in mind.

[ It's difficult to enjoy oneself with a bitter, broken heart, not that Jules would know that, and not that Caprica is going to tell her. She'll start to collect the pieces soon enough, fit them back together when she can. ]

( Oh, dear. That didn't seem to go very well. Satisfied that there isn't a horrifying piece of spinach or some other thing stuck between her teeth, Jules lets her hand drop, absently playing with her necklace. Her fingers twist around the silver, shaking it out a little. Fidgeting is what she's doing, really. It's a bad habit. ) Do! Sometimes it's nice to do something just to take your mind off things.

( Not that she ever did that, of course. Oh no. She smiles a bit, apologetic. ) Do you need anything? Food for your place, anything like that?

[Curious, and perhaps a little concerning, that Caprica is back. That she did return home, just as Dominique had believed, but now she was in the Gardens again. It worries her, the idea that any attempt to return home may only be temporary, but it's not something to think on too much right now.]

Hello, Caprica. I am glad to see you're well.

[ There's certainly something that flickers through Caprica's eyes when Dominique appears in the mirror, but what it is isn't completely clear. Her lips part, but it's a moment before she says anything in response. ]

Thank you.

[ The words are quiet, distantly polite, like she's trying for mere pleasantry, as if she's speaking to someone who didn't live with her for over two months. But there's a restlessness to the way she twines her fingers together, then relaxes them, then picks up her glass in both hands, though she makes no move yet to drink from it. ]

Did you and Jackie find somewhere else to live?

Yes.

[She realises the action may seem quite harsh, cold, now Caprica has returned, as if they were just waiting for her to turn her back so they could slip out the back door. That had not been her intention at all, instead chafing and uncomfortable in such a dependent position, exacerbated further by Carpica's absence.]

It seemed wrong, to continue staying in your home without you. We've taken one of the Monsigny Apartments.

[A slight tilt of her head, troubled by the small mannerisms in Caprica's hands. Dominique is well-mannered, always has been, doesn't take well to the idea that they may have offended or hurt Caprica in leaving.]

Thank you for having us as guests for so long. It was very kind of you.

[ In all fairness, Caprica realizes neither Dominique nor Jackie could have known she was going to come back. She'd had no way of knowing herself. And so her next words, at least, are the truth. ]

I understand.

[ There's a moment's pause, and Caprica takes a swallow of her ambrosia, maybe a little bit too quickly. She may be being obvious, but at the moment her control over herself isn't as complete as she wants it to be. She needs to occupy herself in that moment, otherwise she will start asking things she shouldn't, things like wondering whether Jackie is all right, or whether she can come by and visit them. Questions that call back to emotions she desperately wants to acknowledge and doesn't, all at once. Companionship, friendship, maybe something a little more; even before, it was never quite clear to her what she felt, for either of them. And now it touches too close to a betrayal she doesn't yet know if she wants to risk again.

She nods, at Dominique's words, and there might be a slight smile at the corners of her mouth for a few moments before she becomes aware of it and lets it fall. ] You're welcome. [ And in a softer tone, ] Whatever makes you more comfortable.

I am used to being more independent.

[Softly, almost an apology. Yes, she is more comfortable like this, more in control in an environment that seems insistent upon taking away as much control as possible.]

I'm sorry that you've been brought back here. I had hoped you'd returned safely to your home.

I understand.

[ She repeats it, and it would be insistent if her tone of voice was any firmer. It's not that that's bothering her — or rather, not what's bothering her the most. On some level, their absence does hurt a little, but only insofar as she was becoming used to, enjoying not being alone. Right now, however, she needs the isolation. There is a lesson to be learned from the pain and the bitterness, something to be crafted from the broken shards, even if she isn't thinking quite clearly enough yet to recognize it.

Caprica does look away, for just a moment, at the apology, and takes another drink. There is a part of her that is unsure whether it is sorry to be back or not. She should be with her brothers and sisters, but that wasn't where she was last. And if experience is any indication, she'll just end right back up on Galactica if she were to go back home now. She doesn't regret what she did to get there, but that doesn't mean she enjoys being there. ]

I wouldn't exactly call being home any better than being here.

[ That is... an admission, probably more than she wanted to give, but she can't take it back now. ]

[Dominique frowns, slightly. She hadn't intended to cause Caprica any more pain, could already tell the woman was troubled over something. Unsure on whether to press, if Caprica wishes to discuss it, or avoid the topic, decides on,]

There are others here who have said similar.

[And she might have agreed, had she still lived in the South. But the issue was still one of control - she had know the South her entire life, knew what to watch for, how to fight. The Gardens offered no certainty, gave no answers or motivation towards their being here. Better the devil you know, and she had never truly experienced such an example before.]

[ It isn't as if it is Dominique's fault Caprica is hurting, and there are many things right now that are unpleasant reminders. The emptiness of the house is just one more thing on top of a pile of other issues. ]

There's a war, at home.

[ That... explains at least part of what's wrong without explaining details, she thinks. War has a number of side effects, all of them distressing. Those are absent in the Gardens. In her own world she is a prisoner of war now. Not being stuck in a cell and constantly watched with veiled hatred and loathing is a welcome change, if nothing else. ]

[She hadn't expected that, and perhaps it shows on her face, slightly. There are other soldiers here, she has spoken to some, but she hadn't thought Caprica had such a past. But there being a war does not make Caprica a soldier.]

It is the same, for me. Though I was away from it, already.

[With Jackie. There was still the possibility of terrorist attacks, in the North, but it was nothing like the situation in the South, and she had begun to build a very different life.]

[ One wouldn't guess simply from looking at her, but Caprica is a soldier. Then again, all her people became soldiers when the complete annihilation of the human race failed and an unexpected war happened instead. It's true she's never fought in a ground battle — they have the Centurions for that — but there are other, subtler forms of combat, and most of their fighting is done in space, at any rate.

At that comment, she finally does smile a little, though there's no warmth in it, and when she speaks again her voice is matter-of-fact. ]

It's not so easy as that.

[ Not so easy as that in her world, is what she means, although Dominique can probably infer that. All there is is war — that and the search for Earth, but to be honest she's unsure what will become of that now. ]

War never is.

[Dominique doesn't know much about the war on a grander scale, but she knows the rift that splits the world in two keeps the South nigh impenetrable. A stalemate, had been since before she was born, but she knew, no matter how far she ran, there was nowhere truly safe until it was over. Still wary over revealing her status as a witch, over sleeping with her back to the door, over trusting anyone with too much information too soon.

It was never easy, even if you'd supposedly left it behind.]

[ After Jackie and Dom moved to the Monsigny's apartment building, Sasha had forgotten all about Caprica's old house. She never really felt attachment to a place, even if it was a nice house, lots of lights. Had coffee, too, that was essential.

But lately she had been kind of out of it and in the end, Dot wanted her around (http://queenofheartsrp.livejournal.com/209161.html) and Sasha wasn't going to say no. So after that episode, she had talked to Jackie (http://queenofheartsrp.livejournal.com/209161.html?thread=17523209#t17523209), and because she didn't want her to "come and get her", she had planned to go to her and just say she was still alive. Because of that, she realize she had left her little coffee mug back at Caprica's and she needed it back, even if it was only because it is one of the few things she considers hers for whatever odd reason.

Of course, she thought it would be empty, so she doesn't worry much when she walks in uninvited. She hardly bothered in cleaning up after the rough-housing at Dot's, so her hair is still all over the place, messy, and she probably should at least wash her face. She was going to, in fact, before she met Jackie. Didn't want her asking questions. Alas, she won't, because when she walks into the kitchen, she stops, frozen in place, eyes meeting Caprica. She remembers her, vaguely. Screamed and ran off like the scrawny rat she is when she first got there. Her eyes glance over the old mug in the sink after a bit - it's nothing special, but it's hers.

Sasha swallows dryly and twists her hands in one another. ]

Ah, I'm, I'm s-sorry, I didn't, d-didn't know y-you were he-here, s-so, hm. [ Lisp and stuttering, that's wonderful. She scratches at her wrists and takes a tiny step back, eyes back to the floor. ] I can, g-go, I didn't m-mean to interrupt you.

Edited 2011-05-31 04:48 (UTC)

[ Caprica isn't expecting someone to just walk into the house like that, and she turns a little sharply, caught off guard. After a moment, she relaxes; she recognizes this woman, a little, though it takes a second before she remembers just why. Sasha had been terrified of her, when they'd first met, and she doesn't seem in much better shape now, even if Caprica hasn't done anything threatening. She looks bloodied, scratched up, and there's a little flicker of concern through Caprica's gaze despite herself.

She is very still as Sasha apologizes, and it would probably be easier just to let her leave. But Caprica does not generally do things because they are easier, and in any case she should at least find out why the other woman is here. ]

You're not interrupting me. Did you need something?

[ Her tone of voice is not unfriendly, but it's lacking the warmth she would normally display. It's more as if she's intentionally trying to keep herself as detached and uninvolved as possible. ]

[ That is fine by her - the distance, the apparent lack of concern in her voice. It makes her more at ease than a person who would be overly eager to help. She always suspect those will break her the hardest. Always paranoid, the scrawny rat (or stray kitty, depending on how you see it and who you are, really).

Her gaze meets Caprica's for half a second, and she quickly averts her eyes, as if the mere action of looking at the woman would start conflict. ]

Hum, I, I left my m-mug here. [ She swallows dry again, and frowns, scratching her forehead in distress, rubbing her fingers over her eyebrow. ] I just-- I c-came to pick it up. [ She's talking a little slower, straining herself to bite back the lisp and the stutter. There's an awkward pause and she shifts around nervously, clenching her fingers around the strap of her backpack, her other hand wiping nervously at the corner of her broken and bruised lip. It hurts a little when she does it but she doesn't even wince, too nervous in the presence of such an imposing figure. ] If that's okay?

[ Caprica watches her, watches the small nervous movements of her body, the tension in the way she holds herself. Her first impulse is to affect a reassuring demeanor, try and calm Sasha down, but she doesn't — and, after all, she remembers that didn't work terribly well the first time.

When she mentions the mug, Caprica glances over, catching sight of the old thing sitting in the sink. It wasn't hers, but she hadn't really thought about questioning where it had come from. Reaching out, she picks it up, rinses it out, hands it wordlessly to Sasha.

The way the other woman rubs at the corner of her mouth draws Caprica's eyes to it, and she notices the cuts and bruises there, the injuries only aggravated by Sasha's nervous fussing. Her lips purse a little, and though she doesn't reach out to touch, she can't not say something. ]

You're bleeding. [ Soft-voiced, and maybe there's a little concern there, hidden underneath the facade. ]

[ The silence can grow uncomfortable when Sasha is near, with her jumpy self always looking around as if to make sure she isn't attacked from the shadows.

She doesn't quite look at Caprica when she rinses the mug , but she hears her coming closer so she tenses up. From her five-feet-two (which are actually five-feet-four, but she slouches so bad and always has her head down that it looks like she's that shorter) Caprica looks towering and she can't help but to flinch just slightly when she's near. She takes the mug, mutters a nervous thank you and presses it against her chest, like it's something valuable.

But then she's addressing her wounds and Sasha brings her hand again to her face, fingers touching her bruised cheekbone. She is, she didn't wash it off at the monster house because she hadn't wanted to spend more time there, but she figures she should before she meets Jackie. ]

Hum, yes, I'm, I'm okay. [ She looks at Caprica for a fleeting moment, then it's back to stare at her hands. ] She, D-Dot, hum, she l-likes it better this, this way. [ A tiny shrug, and she's squeezing her hands against the mug as if it's a stress ball. ]

I-I need to m-meet, hum, Jackie? [ She's knows Caprica knows Jackie. She may be what and how she is, but hardly any details fly by Sasha. She was, after all, an informant. Knowing things that do no concern her are basically what she does to keep herself alive. ] Do you mind if I w-wash my f-face, before I go?

[ That does make Caprica frown a little, the expression she was suppressing earlier; the impression that anyone would enjoy leaving someone like that makes her stomach twist a little. She had missed the Vine recording or else she might have understood what Sasha is talking about; as it is, the idea that there's a sexual element involved hasn't quite yet occurred to her.

The mention of Jackie makes her tense a little, visibly. Yes, Caprica knows her. More than that, a little. The reminder of her presence brings up a swell of mixed emotion that Caprica has to consciously suppress, for now.

Instead, she nods at the question. ] The bathroom is down the hall. [ A slight gesture in that direction, and then she pauses. ] I have bandages, if you like.

[ That's okay for Sasha, though, people who pity her make her uncomfortable, but then again, people make her uncomfortable, period. Dot is a monster and she is used to deal with that, with violence and sex and being thrown around and her self-destructive nature tells her that it's soothing to be in that comfort zone, even if there's a lot of blood. ]

I know. [ Whispered, like she doesn't want to impose. She scratches her arm nervously, flickering eyes up at her before nodding one last time. ]

T-That would be, hum, yeah-- [ She squeezes the mug. ] If you c-could spend some, hum, b-bandages. [ That would make her a bit more presentable for Jackie, at least. ]

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six. [video]

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action. ( UWAAAH i hope this is okay )

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