LOG; think that i might break; MAEVE + MEREDITH
who; Maeve and Meredith.
when; Right about now.
Des had gone out to buy groceries. Normally, she would've gone with him, but she couldn't force herself to go face people yet, no matter how much she wanted to, or tried. Not that she wanted to. Or wanted to try.
About ten minutes after Des left though, Maeve crawled out of her seat on the couch and went into the kitchen, staring at an empty mixing bowl in the kitchen before sighing, and turning to pull out ingredients. Making cookies usually helped her mood.
It was worth a try.
Part of being more proactive was getting one's team more proactive. Merry understood that, even if he didn't like the implications of having to spend time with them. He didn't have a particularly high opinion of any of them, either. Still, he... "like" was a word he was reluctant to use, but he didn't object to Des. And Des was the most authoritative figure.
It made sense to visit him for discussion. There was no point in letting a death be a setback, especially when there would be a replacement. And so, after finding the address, he turned up and knocked on the door. He had his holy weapon with him, for no reason he could really name. He'd just become reluctant to let it out of his sight unless he had to.
At the knock, Maeve frowned slightly, a tray of cookies already warm and out of the oven, filling the house with a chocolatey scent. Des didn't knock, and she couldn't think of anyone else who would come see them now that... She swallowed away her thoughts before going to open the door, not opening it fully until she saw who it was, and a brief smile passed over her face.
"Hi~" Her tilde didn't quite seem as cheerful as usual. "Uhm. Want to come in?"
"Yes." He wasn't pleased to see her - he disliked smiling girls more than most other kinds of people, and he wasn't interested if she was grieving, either. Not to mention the fact that she was an Angel. "I'm here to see Des."
"Oh," Maeve reached up to brush hair out of her eyes, her hand white with flour. "He's out for groceries. I made cookies, if you want to wait."
He didn't in the slightest, but obviously he'd have to. His own fault for not planning ahead and calling or something, and that irritated him more.
"I can wait." He noted that she looked like she was baking something, and hoped that would keep her occupied.
She nodded, smiling again and opened the door wider for him to step in, before closing it behind him and then making her way back into the kitchen, grabbing an oven mit from the counter to pull out her second tray.
He probably didn't want to talk to her much, and the presence of an Angel probably didn't please him either, but Maeve couldn't help but pull out a plate and place a few cookies on it, setting it down in front of him complete with a cup of tea, before going back to her baking with a slight smile. It fell the moment he couldn't see her face.
He left the rapier leaning against the arm of the chair, incongruous but reassuringly close. At least he wasn't expected to make conversation with her.
He wasn't hungry, but he took a cookie anyway for politeness' sake or something like it. It tasted a little strange, and he frowned to himself and left the rest on the plate.
At first, the silence didn't bother her, but his presence made her feel like a bad hostess.
"I'm not sure how long Des'll be," she said after a while, leaving half of her batter behind in the bowl, turning around and leaning against the counter. She pulled the band out of her hair and let it fall, biting her lip slightly. "We haven't gone grocery shopping for a while so..."
"Nevermind." Her apologetic look was more annoying than anything else. Even worse was the fact that she was obviously upset, probably because Kay had died, and he didn't like to be around grief at all. It made him uncomfortable, and that in turn made him angry. "Does he tell you everything?" It sounded like a fairly random question, but he was abruptly curious.
Maeve started a little, and her gaze flew to his face before she opened her mouth to answer. "He... well, I don't know. He tells me a lot. He worries. I suppose he doesn't tell me what he thinks will hurt me, if he can help it."
"He keeps confidential Seal information from you, then." Not that there had been anything particularly confidential so far, aside from the location and timing of barrier attacks. He didn't like that he was curious, and told himself it was only practical to ask. She could lie, anyway.
She had never asked for any information on the Seals, but it wasn't needed, when it came to her. She knew a lot of them already. Probably more than an Angel should, but Maeve would never use it against any of them. She didn't want... She swallowed again, images surfacing of Kay impaled, Kay in the hospital, Kay dead, dead because of a barrier attack, dead because of...
Maeve looked away for a brief moment, and when she looked back at Merry, her smile was back. "I suppose he does."
Even if she was telling the truth, that wasn't really good enough. Merry frowned for the faintest instant again, then pressed his expression back into neutrality. This person was an Angel; an Angel with strong and probably hazardous ties to the Seals.
He had just decided it was time to get more proactive, hadn't he? He'd have to deal with Des, but that wouldn't be too much of a problem. Des could always be eliminated too. Although that would be fairly annoying - Des was, after all, one of only a couple of Seals he felt he could tolerate.
Maeve's smile widened slightly, and she went to sit down opposite Merry, feeling a string trail behind her. They were almost alive to her now, as much as the man sitting in front of her was, and she gave it no more thought before taking a cookie of her own and nibbling on it, ignoring the slightly salty flavour.
"I love him," she said, glancing out the window towards where she knew Des would appear when he came home. "Is that too weird for an Angel?"
He leaned back slightly on instinct, not liking that she'd got closer. Then again, he'd have to endure that even more in a moment. He nodded briefly, hand moving slowly to the rapier. Don't think about the decision. Just make it. Get things done. If he took a loss, Camilla could take one too.
"Not 'weird'," he said, and actually put thought into his answer. "Everyone has their own reasons." He knew that intellectually, even if he only cared about his own.
"I suppose." She looked back at him before getting to her feet again, and going to the counter, that spot in better view. Ireland was beautiful this time of year. Green, a tad wet. South Africa was just dry. She frowned slightly.
"I just want a better world for the people I care about. Get rid of industry, let everyone breathe cleaner air. Johannesburg might not be the place to start, but..." She didn't know why she was even saying this. Last time they met, it had been a battle. When he'd chosen. But he wasn't like Thomas, and she didn't have to break down trying to explain. "Maybe I should've been on the other side instead."
"Maybe I should have been too," he said dryly. But he'd chosen, hadn't he. Chosen his family, and oh how he still hated that realisation. He did his best to pretend it away, but the very fact that he was a Seal made it clear over and over again.
He didn't want to talk about it. And he certainly didn't want to have second thoughts about his decision. He reminded himself he disliked her anyway, just as he'd disliked Danielle, and everyone who had been at the Market Theatre. It wasn't difficult.
The convenient thing about rapiers was that the blades were so narrow they slipped easily between ribs.
It didn't register at first what had just happened, the pain not real. It didn't feel real. It felt...
Maeve looked down at the something slid into her, through her, and saw the pointy end of a blade sticking out of her chest, her white shirt blossoming red with blood. She drew a breath, feeling it rasp, her chest wheezing.
... why had he... They were just talking a moment ago and he... He'd just.
He hadn't felt the need to say anything to anyone else he'd killed, but somehow he felt he should say something to her. Maybe because Des wasn't around.
"You're an Angel," he said flatly, as though that explained it all. Maybe it did. He couldn't think of any other reasons, at least.
Maeve tried to look at him, but found it hard to turn, and choked instead, coughing up more blood. She was an Angel, but she... She hadn't had any plans to do anything at all.
Suddenly so much more aware of her strings, she tightened them around Merry's arms and drew his right back, pullling the rapier out of her, clutching the counter to stay up right.
It hurt.
Des. Why wasn't he here, oh god, she wouldn't get to see him. He'd been gone for just a few minutes and she wouldn't get to see him before... Maeve sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut and tears rolled down her cheeks.
He hadn't watched anyone die like that before. Not that he'd killed. The Market Theatre had been faceless, and Danielle had died in her sleep. Watching Maeve made him think suddenly and irrationally of Isobel. And so he was fine with the fact that his arm moved apparently of its own accord, since he wanted to get away from her but couldn't seem to move.
Her breath rasped again, and she tried to look at him again, finding it easier now, but her vision was blurred over, her balance impaired, and the blood just kept oozing out of the wound. More her back than her front now.
Maeve crumpled to the floor, clutching her shirt. She was sobbing again, occasionally looking at Merry and trying to speak, but she didn't know if it came out right.
He watched her without moving, thinking of various things he could do and deciding on none of them. He didn't know what she was saying, and could have blamed that on her incoherency or the fact that his hearing felt somehow impaired. After a few long moments he reached for a cloth from the sink and started the clean the blood off the rapier, still hardly looking away.
It was only practical. That was all.
It took her a few more minutes to die, her eyes just on Merry at first, but then they wandered to a picture of Des on the kitchen wall.
He'd be home soon. He'd be home, and she wouldn't be able to meet him in the door with her cookies like she had planned to. She couldn't kiss him again or look at him again, or touch him again. There was only that picture. That was the last she would see of him. Ever.
Her eyes were torn away as she convulsed, then fell silent, her hair sticky and coated with blood on her floor, her cookies still warm on the kitchen table.
Merry stayed where he was for a few minutes, thinking and trying not to think. It was perfectly obvious what to do next, but he didn't feel quite like doing it right away.
Still, he couldn't stay there forever. He had more to deal with now - Des just for a start. And Camilla. Well. If she thought it was amusing to send him a gift of Mairi's head, then it was worth taking the opportunity to return the gesture.
He washed his hands before he knelt by Maeve's body, and felt sick when he touched her skin. Dead or not she was still a person. He couldn't stand it. He kept his hands steady as he held the rapier to her neck, pushing her bloody hair out of the way. It was awkward with a blade that long, but it cut better than any knife, parting skin and flesh and working easily between bone until it was done. He had his prize.
Looking down at her open eyes and noting their colour, he pretended away a moment of self-doubt.
when; Right about now.
Des had gone out to buy groceries. Normally, she would've gone with him, but she couldn't force herself to go face people yet, no matter how much she wanted to, or tried. Not that she wanted to. Or wanted to try.
About ten minutes after Des left though, Maeve crawled out of her seat on the couch and went into the kitchen, staring at an empty mixing bowl in the kitchen before sighing, and turning to pull out ingredients. Making cookies usually helped her mood.
It was worth a try.
Part of being more proactive was getting one's team more proactive. Merry understood that, even if he didn't like the implications of having to spend time with them. He didn't have a particularly high opinion of any of them, either. Still, he... "like" was a word he was reluctant to use, but he didn't object to Des. And Des was the most authoritative figure.
It made sense to visit him for discussion. There was no point in letting a death be a setback, especially when there would be a replacement. And so, after finding the address, he turned up and knocked on the door. He had his holy weapon with him, for no reason he could really name. He'd just become reluctant to let it out of his sight unless he had to.
At the knock, Maeve frowned slightly, a tray of cookies already warm and out of the oven, filling the house with a chocolatey scent. Des didn't knock, and she couldn't think of anyone else who would come see them now that... She swallowed away her thoughts before going to open the door, not opening it fully until she saw who it was, and a brief smile passed over her face.
"Hi~" Her tilde didn't quite seem as cheerful as usual. "Uhm. Want to come in?"
"Yes." He wasn't pleased to see her - he disliked smiling girls more than most other kinds of people, and he wasn't interested if she was grieving, either. Not to mention the fact that she was an Angel. "I'm here to see Des."
"Oh," Maeve reached up to brush hair out of her eyes, her hand white with flour. "He's out for groceries. I made cookies, if you want to wait."
He didn't in the slightest, but obviously he'd have to. His own fault for not planning ahead and calling or something, and that irritated him more.
"I can wait." He noted that she looked like she was baking something, and hoped that would keep her occupied.
She nodded, smiling again and opened the door wider for him to step in, before closing it behind him and then making her way back into the kitchen, grabbing an oven mit from the counter to pull out her second tray.
He probably didn't want to talk to her much, and the presence of an Angel probably didn't please him either, but Maeve couldn't help but pull out a plate and place a few cookies on it, setting it down in front of him complete with a cup of tea, before going back to her baking with a slight smile. It fell the moment he couldn't see her face.
He left the rapier leaning against the arm of the chair, incongruous but reassuringly close. At least he wasn't expected to make conversation with her.
He wasn't hungry, but he took a cookie anyway for politeness' sake or something like it. It tasted a little strange, and he frowned to himself and left the rest on the plate.
At first, the silence didn't bother her, but his presence made her feel like a bad hostess.
"I'm not sure how long Des'll be," she said after a while, leaving half of her batter behind in the bowl, turning around and leaning against the counter. She pulled the band out of her hair and let it fall, biting her lip slightly. "We haven't gone grocery shopping for a while so..."
"Nevermind." Her apologetic look was more annoying than anything else. Even worse was the fact that she was obviously upset, probably because Kay had died, and he didn't like to be around grief at all. It made him uncomfortable, and that in turn made him angry. "Does he tell you everything?" It sounded like a fairly random question, but he was abruptly curious.
Maeve started a little, and her gaze flew to his face before she opened her mouth to answer. "He... well, I don't know. He tells me a lot. He worries. I suppose he doesn't tell me what he thinks will hurt me, if he can help it."
"He keeps confidential Seal information from you, then." Not that there had been anything particularly confidential so far, aside from the location and timing of barrier attacks. He didn't like that he was curious, and told himself it was only practical to ask. She could lie, anyway.
She had never asked for any information on the Seals, but it wasn't needed, when it came to her. She knew a lot of them already. Probably more than an Angel should, but Maeve would never use it against any of them. She didn't want... She swallowed again, images surfacing of Kay impaled, Kay in the hospital, Kay dead, dead because of a barrier attack, dead because of...
Maeve looked away for a brief moment, and when she looked back at Merry, her smile was back. "I suppose he does."
Even if she was telling the truth, that wasn't really good enough. Merry frowned for the faintest instant again, then pressed his expression back into neutrality. This person was an Angel; an Angel with strong and probably hazardous ties to the Seals.
He had just decided it was time to get more proactive, hadn't he? He'd have to deal with Des, but that wouldn't be too much of a problem. Des could always be eliminated too. Although that would be fairly annoying - Des was, after all, one of only a couple of Seals he felt he could tolerate.
Maeve's smile widened slightly, and she went to sit down opposite Merry, feeling a string trail behind her. They were almost alive to her now, as much as the man sitting in front of her was, and she gave it no more thought before taking a cookie of her own and nibbling on it, ignoring the slightly salty flavour.
"I love him," she said, glancing out the window towards where she knew Des would appear when he came home. "Is that too weird for an Angel?"
He leaned back slightly on instinct, not liking that she'd got closer. Then again, he'd have to endure that even more in a moment. He nodded briefly, hand moving slowly to the rapier. Don't think about the decision. Just make it. Get things done. If he took a loss, Camilla could take one too.
"Not 'weird'," he said, and actually put thought into his answer. "Everyone has their own reasons." He knew that intellectually, even if he only cared about his own.
"I suppose." She looked back at him before getting to her feet again, and going to the counter, that spot in better view. Ireland was beautiful this time of year. Green, a tad wet. South Africa was just dry. She frowned slightly.
"I just want a better world for the people I care about. Get rid of industry, let everyone breathe cleaner air. Johannesburg might not be the place to start, but..." She didn't know why she was even saying this. Last time they met, it had been a battle. When he'd chosen. But he wasn't like Thomas, and she didn't have to break down trying to explain. "Maybe I should've been on the other side instead."
"Maybe I should have been too," he said dryly. But he'd chosen, hadn't he. Chosen his family, and oh how he still hated that realisation. He did his best to pretend it away, but the very fact that he was a Seal made it clear over and over again.
He didn't want to talk about it. And he certainly didn't want to have second thoughts about his decision. He reminded himself he disliked her anyway, just as he'd disliked Danielle, and everyone who had been at the Market Theatre. It wasn't difficult.
The convenient thing about rapiers was that the blades were so narrow they slipped easily between ribs.
It didn't register at first what had just happened, the pain not real. It didn't feel real. It felt...
Maeve looked down at the something slid into her, through her, and saw the pointy end of a blade sticking out of her chest, her white shirt blossoming red with blood. She drew a breath, feeling it rasp, her chest wheezing.
... why had he... They were just talking a moment ago and he... He'd just.
He hadn't felt the need to say anything to anyone else he'd killed, but somehow he felt he should say something to her. Maybe because Des wasn't around.
"You're an Angel," he said flatly, as though that explained it all. Maybe it did. He couldn't think of any other reasons, at least.
Maeve tried to look at him, but found it hard to turn, and choked instead, coughing up more blood. She was an Angel, but she... She hadn't had any plans to do anything at all.
Suddenly so much more aware of her strings, she tightened them around Merry's arms and drew his right back, pullling the rapier out of her, clutching the counter to stay up right.
It hurt.
Des. Why wasn't he here, oh god, she wouldn't get to see him. He'd been gone for just a few minutes and she wouldn't get to see him before... Maeve sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut and tears rolled down her cheeks.
He hadn't watched anyone die like that before. Not that he'd killed. The Market Theatre had been faceless, and Danielle had died in her sleep. Watching Maeve made him think suddenly and irrationally of Isobel. And so he was fine with the fact that his arm moved apparently of its own accord, since he wanted to get away from her but couldn't seem to move.
Her breath rasped again, and she tried to look at him again, finding it easier now, but her vision was blurred over, her balance impaired, and the blood just kept oozing out of the wound. More her back than her front now.
Maeve crumpled to the floor, clutching her shirt. She was sobbing again, occasionally looking at Merry and trying to speak, but she didn't know if it came out right.
He watched her without moving, thinking of various things he could do and deciding on none of them. He didn't know what she was saying, and could have blamed that on her incoherency or the fact that his hearing felt somehow impaired. After a few long moments he reached for a cloth from the sink and started the clean the blood off the rapier, still hardly looking away.
It was only practical. That was all.
It took her a few more minutes to die, her eyes just on Merry at first, but then they wandered to a picture of Des on the kitchen wall.
He'd be home soon. He'd be home, and she wouldn't be able to meet him in the door with her cookies like she had planned to. She couldn't kiss him again or look at him again, or touch him again. There was only that picture. That was the last she would see of him. Ever.
Her eyes were torn away as she convulsed, then fell silent, her hair sticky and coated with blood on her floor, her cookies still warm on the kitchen table.
Merry stayed where he was for a few minutes, thinking and trying not to think. It was perfectly obvious what to do next, but he didn't feel quite like doing it right away.
Still, he couldn't stay there forever. He had more to deal with now - Des just for a start. And Camilla. Well. If she thought it was amusing to send him a gift of Mairi's head, then it was worth taking the opportunity to return the gesture.
He washed his hands before he knelt by Maeve's body, and felt sick when he touched her skin. Dead or not she was still a person. He couldn't stand it. He kept his hands steady as he held the rapier to her neck, pushing her bloody hair out of the way. It was awkward with a blade that long, but it cut better than any knife, parting skin and flesh and working easily between bone until it was done. He had his prize.
Looking down at her open eyes and noting their colour, he pretended away a moment of self-doubt.