[ He scoffs in tandem with lowering his arms down again, releasing her once more back into the great wide yonder of his front entry space. ]
Sounds fake, never heard of him. Come on-- go sit down. I made like six new batches while you were gone for no reason and shut up about it.
[ THEY BOTH KNOW WHY. He's getting so close tho, so close. Please allow him to pour you a nice fresh glass of Attempt 14 so you can tell him all about where the FUCK YOU'VE BEEN. ]
[It's funny how Ian so instantly makes her feel more at ease. There's no awkward dancing around what happened, no sudden distance and discomfort like with Fenris. It's like no time has passed at all, and while she knows he's probably going to ask about what the fuck went down at home, she realizes she's not anxious about it. Even though he's joking around to downplay his own concern, she feels a sudden rush of affection for him. They both suck at this, but it's nice to feel on even footing with someone who so obviously cares about her.
Sunny D again, though. God. She goes to sit, sighing dramatically.]
I can't believe you're torturing me as soon as I get back. I didn't even touch Sunny D the entire time I was home.
[ In the most chill-scandalized tone any human has ever been able to generate. They each get a glass with a notably smaller portion of tequila than he might've done before throw in, and then plunks hers down in front of her. Takes a seat across, and then— no beating around the bush. ]
What the fuck, man? Why's your hair long, what's with the badass scars?
[Kyna wrinkles her nose, but doesn't answer right away. Instead, she focuses on practically chugging half of her drink. Super healthy coping mechanisms.
It isn't that she doesn't want to tell him, just that she doesn't know where to start. She hasn't discussed this with anyone that wasn't there.
So she sets down her drink and flops back on the couch.]
[ Good news, Ms. Healthy Coping Mechanisms, Ian's been taught a new and fun way to support your friends — wait until she gets regretfully drunk and then make her go jogging at 5 a.m. Apparently two days of that cures angst-drinking temporarily; at least, it did for him.
He curls his fingers around his glass and levels her with a deeply furrowed brow.
[It's a great answer, but it's really just her stalling, because Jesus. She's pointedly not looking at him, as though that will make talking about this easier. Part of it is also just that there's so many silly world specific details to this, and she doesn't know how to explain succinctly.]
So, uh... Usually in most major cities there's a unit for occult crimes, but... Most people who can use magic are from really old families, and it's kind of taboo for them to do that kind of work, so you've got a lot of new kids working in them without a ton of background knowledge. My brother can't use magic, but he has the background knowledge, and he doesn't give a fuck what our family thinks, so that's what he does.
[Maybe barrelling through it like this is best. Not getting tangled up in nitty gritty details or the emotions of it. Rapid fire.]
Anyway, he started noticing people going missing or turning up dead, and he thought they fit a pattern, but it was probably tied to some ritual or something. And a lot of times the cops don't want to go after big shit like that, because there's just... bullshit politics at play, right? Not worth the trouble. And these people were the kinds that they think no one will miss—they were homeless or drug addicts or whatever. He pushed as much as he could on it, and then he couldn't anymore, so he tossed it to me and asked if I could figure anything out that his boss couldn't ignore. So we did.
[Usually, that sort of morbid cheer would get her to smile, but it doesn't this time. Still, it's sort of... nice that he's letting her lead with this. It makes it easier, somehow, or as easy as it can be. It doesn't ease the pit in her stomach, but it's something.]
I don't know when, but sometime after he left, I guess he... made a deal with something. A really shitty deal. Sometimes people bind themselves to spirits to make themselves stronger, you know? If they're stupid, I mean. And this thing was draining him.
[She makes a face, amends awkwardly.]
Killing him. The only way he knew how to slow it down was to give it other people to use up instead.
[ It's a deliberate choice not to probe, not to press her into giving away more at once than she feels comfortable with. She's volunteering it all just fine in bits and pieces, as long as she doesn't shut down they're doing pretty well. ]
Wait... So, just to make sure I'm understanding this right... Your dad made a deal with an evil spirit that sucks life forces, so he's been feeding it people?
["Feeding it people" is accurate, but she still makes a face.]
Yeah. That.
[And maybe she should feel worse about that, but it's just a... distant thing. She hadn't seen her father in years. How could she have possibly known? At least she isn't dragging around guilt for that. It's easy for her to power through this part because it's easy for her to keep it at arm's length.
It's the rest that fucks her up, and so she goes quiet, sitting up again. She scoots close, settling her head on his shoulder, arm looping through his.]
If I tell you the rest, do you promise not to call me an idiot?
[He does get her to smile a little, if only for a second, even though her anxiety is clear through the empathy bond.]
Deal.
[Deep breath. Okay.]
So, um...
[She's slowing down in an obvious way now, her tone much more hesitant.]
So we knew where he was, right? And my brother said to just leave it to him, that he'd handle it. But I just... couldn't, you know? And Sam told me to leave it too, but I didn't listen. And it went... It went really badly.
[Which is why he'd be totally justified in calling her an idiot, and there's already regret leaking through the empathy bond.]
[Kyna's quiet for a second, shifting to bury her face against his shoulder. She doesn't respond right away, just soaks in that calm he's feeding her. It's nice. It helps.]
No. Sam went with me. He said if he couldn't get me to leave it, he was going to come with. But then we got there and everything went...
[She swallows, trying to steady her voice and failing.]
[ He can relate to this, and that precise understanding flits through the bond. One of the stories he hasn't told her, one of the things he hasn't been thinking about -- the last thing he remembers from home before coming here.
Advocating for JJ to come on his first supply run with them. Watching them detain and process him. The dread over what in the fuck he was gonna tell Nia.
Ultimately it was his word that convinced her, and his fault Jamill got caught.
The situation's different but he's betting the feeling is the same.
I tried talking to my dad first, 'cause I'm an idiot. But he was like... really far gone, you know? He wasn't totally in control and neither was the thing possessing him, so he was just... unstable. And he attacked me, and Sam tried to protect me.
[There's that guilt bubbling up again, and she presses closer, suddenly not looking forward to going into detail.]
[ It's not even remotely the same thing, but he used to play D&D with Dusty and a few other guys in high school, then a little bit in college. The association he's got going on in his head is sort of like a lich, which is undoubtedly inaccurate. Still, that's what he's thinking through this whole story. ]
[She swallows, shrugs as much as she can while pressed against him.]
He's a healer, you know? He was okay, but...
[But it was still bad, and she doesn't really want to talk about it.]
I guess he must have called my brother beforehand, because he showed up, and he and I had to... deal with my dad because Sam was out. I mean, I had to deal with my dad. Banishing the spirit.
[She says, like that's the next natural step, because for her it was. This is her job. She does shit like this all the time. She should have been able to handle it, and normally, she would have, if this hadn't been such a fucking mess.]
But deals like this, bindings like this, they aren't always equal. It's like... trying to rip apart two pieces of tape that are stuck sticky sides together, you know?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Okay, Dwayne Johnson. Sam said you really missed me.
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Sounds fake, never heard of him. Come on-- go sit down. I made like six new batches while you were gone for no reason and shut up about it.
[ THEY BOTH KNOW WHY. He's getting so close tho, so close. Please allow him to pour you a nice fresh glass of Attempt 14 so you can tell him all about where the FUCK YOU'VE BEEN. ]
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Sunny D again, though. God. She goes to sit, sighing dramatically.]
I can't believe you're torturing me as soon as I get back. I didn't even touch Sunny D the entire time I was home.
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[ In the most chill-scandalized tone any human has ever been able to generate. They each get a glass with a notably smaller portion of tequila than he might've done before throw in, and then plunks hers down in front of her. Takes a seat across, and then— no beating around the bush. ]
What the fuck, man? Why's your hair long, what's with the badass scars?
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My hair's always this long. And I was working while I was home. A lot of bullshit happened. I don't know.
[As in, she doesn't know where to start.]
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[ Thank you very much, he has a pretty solid memory.
But that's totally not the important part of this conversation. ]
Expound on a lot of bullshit.
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It isn't that she doesn't want to tell him, just that she doesn't know where to start. She hasn't discussed this with anyone that wasn't there.
So she sets down her drink and flops back on the couch.]
I fucked up really bad.
[Good start.]
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He curls his fingers around his glass and levels her with a deeply furrowed brow.
Ok, slowly but surely pulling these teeth here. ]
Expound upon fucked up really bad.
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[It's a great answer, but it's really just her stalling, because Jesus. She's pointedly not looking at him, as though that will make talking about this easier. Part of it is also just that there's so many silly world specific details to this, and she doesn't know how to explain succinctly.]
I told you my brother's a cop, right?
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That means it has to be something big, or at least impactful. ]
Yeah, you mentioned it I think. A while back.
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[Maybe barrelling through it like this is best. Not getting tangled up in nitty gritty details or the emotions of it. Rapid fire.]
Anyway, he started noticing people going missing or turning up dead, and he thought they fit a pattern, but it was probably tied to some ritual or something. And a lot of times the cops don't want to go after big shit like that, because there's just... bullshit politics at play, right? Not worth the trouble. And these people were the kinds that they think no one will miss—they were homeless or drug addicts or whatever. He pushed as much as he could on it, and then he couldn't anymore, so he tossed it to me and asked if I could figure anything out that his boss couldn't ignore. So we did.
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His expression turns grim. ]
Is this gonna be one of those stories where it turns out your boss was in on it?
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Nope. Good guess, though. It was my dad.
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[ Announced cheerfully, but with a distinct lack of cheer in the background. ]
As if I need another reason to hate that fuckin' guy.
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[Usually, that sort of morbid cheer would get her to smile, but it doesn't this time. Still, it's sort of... nice that he's letting her lead with this. It makes it easier, somehow, or as easy as it can be. It doesn't ease the pit in her stomach, but it's something.]
I don't know when, but sometime after he left, I guess he... made a deal with something. A really shitty deal. Sometimes people bind themselves to spirits to make themselves stronger, you know? If they're stupid, I mean. And this thing was draining him.
[She makes a face, amends awkwardly.]
Killing him. The only way he knew how to slow it down was to give it other people to use up instead.
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Wait... So, just to make sure I'm understanding this right... Your dad made a deal with an evil spirit that sucks life forces, so he's been feeding it people?
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Yeah. That.
[And maybe she should feel worse about that, but it's just a... distant thing. She hadn't seen her father in years. How could she have possibly known? At least she isn't dragging around guilt for that. It's easy for her to power through this part because it's easy for her to keep it at arm's length.
It's the rest that fucks her up, and so she goes quiet, sitting up again. She scoots close, settling her head on his shoulder, arm looping through his.]
If I tell you the rest, do you promise not to call me an idiot?
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[ His very specific solemn vow, because. You know. He's reserving the right for the future.
But actually he mostly thinks the levity might help.
He curls his free hand around hers where it links through his arm. Offers up a supportive squeeze. ]
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Deal.
[Deep breath. Okay.]
So, um...
[She's slowing down in an obvious way now, her tone much more hesitant.]
So we knew where he was, right? And my brother said to just leave it to him, that he'd handle it. But I just... couldn't, you know? And Sam told me to leave it too, but I didn't listen. And it went... It went really badly.
[Which is why he'd be totally justified in calling her an idiot, and there's already regret leaking through the empathy bond.]
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You went to confront him. Alone?
[ That last part's a guess, because if she were gonna go with anybody it would've probably been her brother. ]
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No. Sam went with me. He said if he couldn't get me to leave it, he was going to come with. But then we got there and everything went...
[She swallows, trying to steady her voice and failing.]
Everything went really badly and he got hurt.
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Advocating for JJ to come on his first supply run with them. Watching them detain and process him. The dread over what in the fuck he was gonna tell Nia.
Ultimately it was his word that convinced her, and his fault Jamill got caught.
The situation's different but he's betting the feeling is the same.
He probes gently. ]
What happened?
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[There's that guilt bubbling up again, and she presses closer, suddenly not looking forward to going into detail.]
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Is Sam okay?
[ Seems like the logical question to ask. ]
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[She swallows, shrugs as much as she can while pressed against him.]
He's a healer, you know? He was okay, but...
[But it was still bad, and she doesn't really want to talk about it.]
I guess he must have called my brother beforehand, because he showed up, and he and I had to... deal with my dad because Sam was out. I mean, I had to deal with my dad. Banishing the spirit.
[She says, like that's the next natural step, because for her it was. This is her job. She does shit like this all the time. She should have been able to handle it, and normally, she would have, if this hadn't been such a fucking mess.]
But deals like this, bindings like this, they aren't always equal. It's like... trying to rip apart two pieces of tape that are stuck sticky sides together, you know?
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