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[borntohurt]

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[enouemary]

[ Starting over isn't easy when it matters. Not when you've invested your entire life in expectations that never come to pass. Or when you spend so long convincing yourself--and being convinced by others--that what you want is wrong. That happiness, how you define it, is wrong. ]

Shit. [ It's barely a breath of a word, reacting instinctively to the point of the needle in Mary's hand pricking the soft pad of her thumb, but even as she lifts her finger to her mouth, she can feel the weight of Dame Moseby's stare. ]

Mrs. Linton! I had no idea you used such language!

[ It isn't that Moseby, a "Dame" purely by self-proclamation, is a particularly pious woman; she's not slowing her descent into Hades any more than the Mayor of Saint Denis himself. Moseby only wishes she were in such a city, where her pernicious nature would blend in unnoticed. Here, however, in this small town? It comes across pompous. Needlessly judgmental.

It reminds Mary of her father. ]

Only when necessary, [ Mary inspects her thumb, pressing on it to conjure forth a garnet bead, only to swipe it away and return the digit to her lips. Damn needle. Damn hat. Damn daddy. Damn world. ] Sorry.

[ Moseby sighs, setting down the stuffed bird of a hat she was working on. ] Why don't you run off to the post office, see if my parcel has arrived? And stop by Mr. Shipton's to check on those feathers I asked for?

[ Mary breathes out through her nostrils, setting her own hat and needle down with excessive care. She doesn't want to be kind to the thing that just bit her, but she needs to keep her job. Her job. She never thought those words would apply to her, not really.

She stands, brushing her hands on her dark skirt and crossing the room to the door without a word. Out on the street, she walks with her eyes downcast, thinking about the flowers she'd been stitching onto that damn hat.

It's been almost a year since she last saw those flowers. ]

[borntohurt]

[ A year, and those flowers still bloomed, free and wild and flourishing.

If only the same could be said of them.

Charles had found himself drawn south once more, attempting to eek out a living where possible. One could only exile themselves to a lonely existance in the wilderness before it started to wear on your mind. Physically, survival was not a question.

But loneliness and despair, mixed together, was a slow-acting poison. It sat heavy in the blood and he knew what came of that eventually. He'd seen it work its evil on his father, before him.

Which is how he winds up in a town he knows he won't be welcome in, making his way to the tavern for a quiet drink and the sound of other people. What he wasn't expecting was to see a familiar face crossing the wooden planks and headed in his direction. For a brief moment he pauses, eyes widening slightly in wonder.

Once was coincidence. Twice?

Maybe there was a reason for it. ]

...Mrs. Linton.

[ The words feel dry on his lips, unused to having someone to converse with after many months, but they come all the same. ]

[enouemary]

[ She looks up, expecting to see--well, nobody in particular, really. She expected to flash the requisite polite nod, perhaps give a perfunctory "hello," and move on. If unlucky, she might be waylaid by someone actually wanting to speak at length about the weather.

But the first expression to take hold is surprise. Hot on surprise's heels is a genuine smile. ]

Mr. Smith, [ She almost says Charles but as much of her raw emotions he's been witness to, perhaps first names are too familiar yet. Strange, that he should feel much more familiar to her than he is. ] It's good to see you; how are you?

[borntohurt]

Fine. Doing fine.

[ Not really, but he's alive. That's something. His head bobs in a nod, a faint greeting. Circumstances being what they were the last time they'd met -- their first actual meeting, in fact -l- he's not quite sure where they stand. Cautious acquaintanceship, perhaps.

But her greeting is warmer than that, and there's some relief to be found in that. ]

What brings you here? I thought you were headed back to the city.

[enouemary]

Oh, [ Yes, when they'd parted ways last, she had been on her way back to the city--though what she'd neglected to mention then was that she was on her way to pack her life into a luggage set.

A luggage set she later sold to pay her way. ] It's a long story, and not a very interesting one. But I'm here, for now. Trying my hand at a trade.

[ Said like someone who regrets the decision. Perhaps she does. Regrets not getting married again, having a simple, predictable, safe life with another man she thinks she can grow to love. She gestures in the direction she'd been walking. ] Would you walk with me? If you're not...busy?

[ That's...probably too familiar, Mary. ]

Random 3am text

[nothinglikefather]

Have I told you recently you're the most handsome man I know?

[borntohurt]

Definite 'recently'.

[nothinglikefather]

In the last 12 hours?

[borntohurt]

Then no, I think this counts as the first.

[mustact]

When Ratonhnhaké:ton realises Jacob is no longer in the City, he doesn't immediately go to check up on Charles. He gives him some time, hoping that if he really felt the need for company, he would say so. Perhaps he would like some quiet for a while, some time to think. Not too long. Knowing him, he might also think that he has to be alone with this, that this is simply one more way that he is meant to suffer. So, not too long.

It's late that evening that Ratonhnhaké:ton makes his way to St. John's and knocks on Charles's door.

[borntohurt]

It was as it was for the Magistrate. All trace gone, not even a scent left behind. He'd known before it became clear, before Angel announced as much across the network, and at first it didn't seem real.

It settles in after a while, and he knows there are things to do in the wake of Jacob's disappearance. He can't let himself fall to grief. There are things to do and people to protect. For as long as he's allowed to, before the city snatches them away again and hurls them back home.

There's a cup of tea steaming on the counter that he hasn't touched. The bottle beside the couch, by comparison, is very near empty. But through the haze he hears the knock, draws himself upright, and makes his way to open the latch. Bloodshot eyes fall upon Connor for a moment or two before he steps back, in silent permission to enter.

[mustact]

If Charles has tried not to fall to grief, he has at least partly failed. It's clear in his posture, in his gaze, in the bottle by the couch and the untouched tea. Ratonhnhaké:ton enters without a word, but he puts a hand on Charles's shoulder in a gentle squeeze before he walks over to the counter to prepare a glass of water and grab the cup of tea.

[borntohurt]

He knows.

...he knows.

But it isn't as bad as it could be. It's heartache, it's pain, it's loss and all of the things that come along with it, but it's still living. And that's the way it goes. Jaw working tightly he closes the door behind him and moves silently after him.

Does he say something? He's not sure, even if it weren't for the lump in his throat that seems to cut off anything he might have intended to give voice.

Text from redshift

[nothinglikefather]

Arthur Morgan is here.

[borntohurt]

[ He reads that sentence over and over again, just to make certain it says what he thinks it does.

It's not impossible. As much as it feels like it should be. ]

Where? Are you sure?

[nothinglikefather]

That's what he told me his name was. Big hat, blue eyes, looks like a grumpy arsehole?

We're at the bottom of this plant thing. I think he'd like to see you.

[borntohurt]

Thank you.

[ That's all he has. All he can put to words as his thoughts tumble wildly in his head.

He's on his way. Not sure what he'll do when he gets there. ]

knock knock

[circumspector]

- Which is to say, Angel sticks her head in around the door to Charles part of the shared corner when the others are out with a wrap of her knuckles on the door.

It's not that she doesn't think they're not capable. But Connor - Connor could be so absolute. Especially when it came to protecting her. Too clear his words in her mind when it came to Jack. How am I supposed to let him live?

Fair question, even now.

And Jacob - Jacob only ever came down with his whole fist at the best of times. She didn't want to make this a thing but she didn't want to be an idiot either.

So, Charles then.

"Got a second, Charles?"

[borntohurt]

He glances up, halfway through giving the wolf that's been following him around a few reassuring pats. "Yeah?"

As if he wouldn't make the time, if she asked.

He shifts around to face her, and the wolf settles on the floor, head resting on its paws and gold eyes watching Angel just the same.

[circumspector]

Angel steps in and does the only fair thing for the wolf, since she interrupted getting pats, and leaned over to give him another one in replacement. At least she had it on good authority from how much Charles' wagged his tails that she knew the good spots and she could scratch pretty damn well with her claws. Keeping her eyes down on the activity in front of her. That removed way she had to talking when it was something important.

"Might take a minute. Have you met a guy yet, called Kabal?"

[borntohurt]

"Mm."

And if the brevity of his response doesn't say what he thinks about Kabal, the way his expression goes flat certainly would. Oh, he's met the guy.

Would probably be happier if they didn't have reason to meet again, but in enclosed quarters he knew he wouldn't be that lucky.

[circumspector]

Charles, I need your help.

Connor's lost all his memories, and I think he might need to talk to someone who's a lot more familiar to his world than... I am.

[ Much as that hurts. Much as there is a reason this is in text because she can't the sound of her own voice when it's going to crack. Connor needs her more than she needs to break down over the idea of something like this. ]

[borntohurt]

On my way.

[ Obviously the situation is dire, and if she needs his help? That's all she has to say.

He doesn't know what he'll do, necessarily, but...Angel's the smartest person he knows. Surely, between them, they could figure out something.

Though if Connor no longer remembers him, either... ]

[circumspector]

See you soon. Jacob's already with him, so he's starting to settle.

[ But she needs to get away from him, she knows that, as much as it hurts. He doesn't want her around. With Jacob and Charles, things will be much better for him. ]

[borntohurt]

Do we know what caused it?