(Untitled)

[samstewart]

Sam's in the bar again, having once again found it on the other side of DCS Foyle's office door. (The past few times, she'd been more than a little disappointed when she found herself in the police station corridor. Especially when she'd been wanting a cup of Milliways tea more than anything

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[night_hibiscus]

Sam, it should come as no surprise to anyone, is not alone in seeking the solace of a good cup of tea tonight.

The tea Yuna orders, from a spot just a step or two down the bar, is fragrant and bright red; hibiscus tea, from Besaid Island, or a near facsimile. She lingers for a moment, inhaling the clean sweet smell of the steam, and offers a smile and a wave to the other girl.

She's the same age, or a little younger, than Sam, with longish hair and neat braids on only one side of her face--not the same side as the impressive black eye. She's also, apparently, Japanese, and very oddly dressed by almost anyone's standards.

[night_hibiscus]

"Not people," she says quickly. "No one's tried to hurt me... not really," she adds scrupulously, thinking of the Al Bhed attempts to kidnap her.

"Fiends. They're a kind of monster that infests lonely places in my world." She's getting better at concise explanations.

[samstewart]

Sam's eyes go rather wide at the thought. That's not like any pilgrimage she's ever heard of.

'And...your Guardians protect you, along the way?'

[night_hibiscus]

She nods. "It's not just me, though--I mean, fiends are a danger to everyone who travels very far from their own villages."

[samstewart]

'My father would probably say that there's something metaphorical about having to fight off actual demons on a pilgrimage.' Sam frowns, thinking. 'Or...no, I think I mean allegorical. One of the two. Possibly.' An embarrassed half-smile. 'This is why I'm a bit hopeless as a vicar's daughter -- I really ought to know the difference.'

She sobers a bit. 'But these fiends would attack anyone who tried to travel anywhere, in your world?'

[night_hibiscus]

"A metaphor, I think," she says, thinking. "It would only be an allegory if each of the fiends represented some moral flaw in my group--like if I had trouble keeping my temper, and we fought Bombs all the time.

"But you mustn't say you aren't a good daughter," she adds, quite earnest. "It's much more important to be the sort of person he would want you to be, than to know all the things he knew. Knows. At least, that's what I think."

"And--yes, that's how it is." Her shrug is fairly stoic.

[samstewart]

Sam's rather interested in the contents of her teacup, all of a sudden.

'I wonder about that, sometimes.' She bites her lip, and looks up at Yuna. 'He doesn't really approve of the work I'm doing. Of the fact that I've got a job at all, really. I think he'd much rather have a daughter who stayed at home and rolled bandages or knitted socks for soldiers, something nice and proper and domestic like that, instead of a daughter who's wearing a uniform and working for the police. It's not that he's ashamed, or anything like that -- but I know he's not at all happy about it.'

[night_hibiscus]

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she says quickly. "I didn't mean to make you feel badly."

"My cousin Rikku just joined my pilgrimage, and I know her father won't be pleased to hear it," she offers. "But, you know--she made the choice she thought was right, based on everything he taught her. And maybe your father only objects because he wants you to be safe."

[samstewart]

Sam nods a little, with a wry smile. 'I suppose so. I think his way of worrying would make a bit more sense to me if we weren't all in danger of being bombed or invaded. They're in just as much danger as I am -- more so, sometimes.'

She pauses, thoughtfully.

'But I know more than a few girls who don't have anyone to worry about them. Anyone who'd really care if something happened to them, that is. Not that they're orphans...I know one girl who was one of eleven children, and from the way she talked about her family I think she could quite happily never speak any of them again. So on the whole, I suppose having your parents fretting over you mightn't be such a bad thing, always.'