(Untitled)

[applelimber]

Who: Deneve (twoswordjuniper), Helen (applelimber)
When: Late night.
Where: The Foxhole
Format: Paragraph
What: Partners ponder recent...events
Warnings: PG-13 for language

Comments

[twoswordjuniper]

It almost felt like exile. And maybe that's really what it was. The ghosts of Pieta hiding themselves in dark rooms behind 'closed' signs and severing ties with the patrol. But it really was too much. This place, this bloody city and all its inhabitants. It was going to hell.

Deneve sat lightly enough on one of the bar stools and opened a beer for herself. It wouldn't do to let Helen drink alone and it gave Deneve something to do while they sat there stagnating, trying to think of a way out of this impossible predicament. Trying to figure out their next move. Or if there even was a viable next move. As her partner paced, Deneve bent her bottle cap in half between her fingers. It wasn't much in the way of action, but at least it made her feel a fraction less powerless.

[applelimber]

Better to be exiled with Deneve than partnered with monsters. At least that's how Helen would look at it. The former 15 was another one of those things that kept her human.

Helen's eyes slid toward her, noted the way that she bent the bottle cap. Such a subtle action, but coming from someone as together as Deneve, it radiated frustration. She jumped over the bar, pulling a stool over so that she could sit across from her.

"It's too fucking quiet." Most would see that as a good sign. But she wasn't the patient type. Better to her to just get it on. "Think there's anyone on the inside we can still talk to?"

[twoswordjuniper]

Deneve allowed the bottle cap to slide down into her palm as Helen sat down across from her. She closed her fingers around the little piece of metal and crushed it in her fist. She made no show of it, an almost absent gesture, and when she opened her hand again and set the crumpled cap on the counter the gouges it had dug into her palm had already healed.

"Irene might hear us," she mused. "She is close to Priscilla. She's probably concerned. Galatea wasn't pleased about this development either."

Her frown deepened and her eyebrows drew together. She could make some pretty good guesses as to what Isley's goals were with this move, and Priscilla's willingness to allow him in to the patrol had probably had only facilitated it. "I doubt either of them will do us much good. She won't change her mind. And even if either of them are willing to keep us updated on anything that happens, there's nothing we can do

[applelimber]

"Yeah...yeah, that's probably true." On all accounts. Helen sighed as she considered the two aforementioned Claymores for a moment. She was searching for hope when there didn't seem to be any. But it wasn't like her to give up, at least not without a fight. And she'd be damned if she let Deneve give up either. She took another drink, draining the contents of the bottle in one go.

"The direct approach won't work. Such a pain in the ass. Maybe we should still try to talk to them though...you take one and I'll try the other. Pretty sure I can get Galatea to stop by for a drink. And Irene might like you better." A tiny smirk crossed her lips, and for the first time she looked a little more like herself. When Deneve looked up, she winked.

"You don't make as much noise."