maskormenacelogs | if you wanna stay

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if you wanna stay

WHO: Sarah, Sarissa, Clara
WHERE: De Chima
WHEN: Nebulous points between the 18th and the 26th
WHAT: Just some freakouts
WARNINGS: Will add as necessary

for sarissa: [ After their short text conversation, Sarah goes outside to wait for Sarissa, pacing up and down the street. She doesn't smoke cigarettes, but situations like this make her understand how easy it would be to start. She needs something to do with her hands, besides wring them together, which is what she's doing right now.

Jesus. Can't they ever catch a break? It's one thing after another, and it never seems to stop. ]

for clara: [ Since Cosima and Alison have gone missing, Sarah has taken to spending time at the places they can usually be found. She'll spend a couple hours skulking around near Alison's house, then a few hours at Cosima's, then make a trip to Cosima's lab. Just in case. She knows it's getting ridiculous, but it's a way to pass the day.

On this particular evening, she's wrapped herself up in one of Cosima's old blankets and fallen asleep on the couch in the lab's Chill Zone. She doesn't even wake up when the door to the lab opens and someone appears in the doorway. Whoops. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( A glance to Sarah, sidelong, and Sarissa swears under her breath as she spots a car park and swings into it. Slow, no longer quite so fast, until she stops. The traffic on the road carries on, and her breath feels rough and jagged, like she was running the whole way instead of driving.

She's not an idiot. Not totally, despite popular opinion. She can see Sarah's not fine, and she remembers scaring her before with her temper, and it makes looking at Sarah near impossible. She forgets, sometimes, that Sarah isn't the same as her. That Sarah is a survivor of something, sure, but maybe doesn't fling herself into the fire so readily as Sarissa does.

There's a pause before she tries to reply to either being called a psychopath (God, she hopes it's not true) or the comment on Russia. )

Sorry. ( Quieter— meek doesn't seem right for it, and neither just gentle, but there's some truth in both. She was being too much again. ) I can go do this alone. You don't have to get dragged into my bullshit.

( Her conviction that people might love each other, but it's just a tie in for people always hurting each other. Her belief that Clara is going to hurt Cosima, or has, that flared out of her own life. That George might do the same to Sarah, if she didn't already have concerns with a man who was prepared to do what Sarah did, equal parts grateful and swallowing the desire to kick him in the knees. The adrenaline is still pushing in her veins, and she's still angry and still convinced, but she's stopped and she's pulled over and she'll probably wind up doing whatever Sarah wants, because she might be a psychopath, or just damaged, and too ready to throw herself into a fight for some cause she defines as worthwhile, but Sarah's—

even if she isn't family (but Sarissa hopes she is, she wants her to be, she wants these ridiculous women to be her family) then she's a woman that's scared and unhappy and uncomfortable, and Sarissa made that happen. The one thing she never wants to make happen, and she keeps doing that to Sarah. )

You don't know it's Russia.

[ Sarah doesn't say anything right away. She takes a couple deep breaths, wipes her sweaty palms on her jeans. She can hear that Sarissa's upset, and part of her feels lucky that this person has so totally accepted Sarah and the other clones as her sisters. That she's willing to run red lights and interrogate people at gunpoint for them. The other part of her just wants to take Sarissa by the shoulders and shake her. ]

No, you're not going alone. You just need to calm down. [ Usually, it's Sarah who runs headlong into trouble and thinks about the consequences later. Now, with Cosima and Alison gone, she needs to be the calm and rational one. Wonders never cease. ]

We can talk to Clara first, but we can't break into her flat and stick a gun in her face. That's— [ Okay, she's called Sarissa crazy too many times already. ] That's not gonna get her to talk to us.

( Sarissa is quiet, as well, but small sparks burst around her palms and her fingertips and her palms, making her wince a little as the catch her skin and burn it. Her hands flex around the steering wheel before she lets them drop into her lap, watching the little sparks absently. )

Calm down. ( Right. The mantra of what she thought about other people, and what she told herself. What she'd heard over and over and over again as a child and then as a teenager. Less so as an adult, before things started to peel apart. Maybe she's not so different from her dad after all. )

Okay.

( Flat, as she swallows and looks over at Sarah, finally. She doesn't like the new plan of "be calm," but she didn't really like the old plan of "be a psychopath," either. ) Are you okay?

Yeah.

[ She rests her head against the car window, not looking at Sarissa. There's no good way to tell her about what happened with Daniel and the car without making it sound like she now associates Sarissa with a corporate sociopath. She doesn't, of course not. She'd just really like it if they could drive the rest of the way without running any more red lights, or waving the gun around. ]

This happens way too often, is all. [ Sarah can remember, still, what it was like when she first came to this world. She'd thought it was a nice break from everything going on at home. Got herself a boyfriend, a job, even a nice flat. Shit she'd never had before. But now—with the updates and the war and people she loves disappearing or getting hurt—she wonders why she ever thought that she could have a good life here, that she could forget she's a clone. ]

( Her jaw tightens a little. It stings, even if she is half sure Sarah isn't referring to her. )

Me scaring you, or the other stuff?

( Still flat, because she isn't sure how to be something that isn't flat without suddenly sounding emotional, and sounding emotional would make this manipulative somehow, and her throat hurts. Her lungs, still raw with the cough that's not going away (in large part because Sarissa stubbornly insists she doesn't need antibiotics when probably she does) and tickles in her chest, spasm a little and she swallows the cough but can't keep her shoulders from jarring a little. )

[ Sarah sees Sarissa holding back a cough, and she seems to deflate a little bit, sinking down into the seat with a sigh. She can't tell her about the clone disease now. Not with Cosima gone, maybe permanently. Fuck. ]

The other stuff. Our sisters being in danger, maybe. Me not knowing how to get to them, or what the right move is, or who to trust and who to pull a gun on.

[ She rubs at her face with one hand, suddenly very tired and very ready for this day to be over with. ]

Maybe we'll wake up and today will have been all a dream.

( With a little twist of her hand, closing her fingers to make the sparks stop. )

We'll get them back. And they'll be okay. We'll figure it out, Sarah.

( Another cough, less well concealed, and she rolls her eyes at it. After a pause, she allows, Maybe you aren't wrong about Clara.

Probably not. But like I said, never met her.

[ She has none (or not much, anyway) of the gut-instinct suspicion for Clara that she'd gotten when Cosima had started talking about Delphine. But then, it's a different universe. She hadn't been thinking on the same level as back home, and neither had Cosima. All Sarah really knows about Clara is the dumb nickname Clone Club has come up with for her—the charming time traveler. And that's not enough. ]

Cosima knows how to pick 'em, though. [ Sarcastic, almost bitterly so. Then again, Sarah doesn't have a great track record with exes, either. And judging by Sarissa's frequent references to satan... Shit, maybe it's genetic. ]

Yeah?

( That makes Sarissa frown. )

Maybe we need a new rule. Screen all dating applicants. No dates until someone has a ninety percent approval rating from a panel made up of at least four parties, not including the smitten biased moron.

( no she definitely isn't referring to herself and her own sentimental disaster area, what are you talking about? )

Come on. You wanna drive?

Well, her ex was her monitor. Is, I guess. Dunno how that works.

[ Screening their dates would really be the best move, but she knows none of them would follow that rule even if they wanted to make it a thing. Stubborn, the lot of them.

Sarah shakes her head when Sarissa asks if she wants to drive, though. She's still too shaken, though she's doing a decent job of not acting it. ]

You're good, mate. Just don't run any more red lights.

( What. )

What? Bloody Hell.

( What a nightmare. Sarissa sits there for a moment, mind boggled, before she turns her key in the ignition. )

All right. Let's go have a nice, calm conversation with Clara, I guess. ( And by God if she is eating any of the moussaka Sarissa packed up for Cosima to have in the freezer for SHE IS TAKING IT AWAY. At least let her have that, if she's not allowed to start shoving guns in peoples faces. )

Yeah, don't get her started on it. [ She says, like she's sure Cosima will be back soon. Like she didn't just say a minute ago that she's sure Cosima and Alison are both gone for good.

Sarah settles back in the passenger seat, looking out the window as Sarissa starts the car and merges back into traffic. She wants to pull her hood up, but then Sarissa'd just be driving with an invisible passenger, and she's pretty sure that would be rude. ]

Clara lives in the flats for imPorts, I'm pretty sure. You know where those are?

( Sarissa hums out a low, quiet sound. ) Yeah. Hate when people can't just let shit go.

( She says, and her eyes definitely are not slightly widened in that let's not address my eternal hypocrisy cool thanks kind of way, no ma'am. )

I know. I've been round a few times.

( Never met Clara, mind, but she's been around.

A,d now, let us magically handwave driving and crap, because driving and crap can be awkward to rp and Sarissa is probably surly and semi-silent. Fun for all. )

[ Yes, let's.

When they arrive, Sarah wastes no time getting out of the car, shields her eyes from the sun, and sighs in a very resigned "well, this is happening" kind of way. ]

Keep that gun away. Remember, there might be a kid in there.

[ Sarah is irresponsible and awful, but she would die before she let someone shoot at a kid, or even pull a gun out in front of one. ]

( Kids, it's always kids.

Sarissa sighs heavily, tucking the gun into a hidden holder under her shirt, at her back. Then she changes her mind, grabs the gun, slides the clip out, and unloads the bullets, holding them out to Sarah once she's slammed the clip back in. It's a weirdly gently gesture, in contrast to the gun and the efficiency with which she can handle a gun. )

Here.

( With the very slightest smile. They've got a gun, and if there's a kid, there won't be any kind of shooting. Probably Cosima'd prefer it if there weren't any kind of shooting around Clara regardless of whether there was a kid around, so. Maybe menacing can be a compromise. A safer compromise. )

[ Oh. Well, that's something. Now Sarissa will just be waving an unloaded gun around while she interrogates Cosima's (almost certainly innocent) girlfriend. Sarah drops the bullets into the pocket of her jacket with a tiny sigh. She appreciates the gesture, she really does, but she's still wondering how they got here in the first place. ]

Go on, then.

[ Sarissa's gonna Sarissa. ]

( She sure is.

Which is why, when they get to the door, Sarissa eyes it very critically for a moment. To kick in the door, or not to kick in the door?

She would, except there's always the possibility of a kid being around, and so she curbs the urge. Instead, there is a moment where she shakes her shoulders, flexes her hand (the skin is blistering from her fireworks, earlier), and knocks what seems like a very reasonable knock. Not at all belonging to someone recently inclined to rampages and hanging anyone over a pit of alligators. )

Hey, Clara, you in? It's Cosima's sisters. Just wanted to check in.

[Clara answers the door with a hairbrush in one hand and a road map - Atlas of the Southeastern United States - in the other. For a moment she just looks between the two visitors, reading the scene. Something is clearly wrong, but since her girlfriend has already disappeared from this plane of existence, she isn't sure what else they could need her for.]

Yeah? What's the matter?

( Sarissa's temper flares just with the sight of her. This person who might've hurt Cosima and Alison, and the plans to wait and be calmer and to approach this level headed burst too fast for her to counter. The gun is back in hand and drawn before you so much as say look at your choices, as she leans her weight into the door to keep it open.

At least it's a very nice gun. Thanks, Kavinsky. )

Got a few questions. Mind if we come in?

( She says it with a smile, understated and insincere. She doesn't enjoy this. Anger is bubbling under her skin, and her hands spark again. )

[Furrowing her brow in abjectly pissed off confusion, Clara looks past Sarissa to the second member of this lovely greeting party.

Et tu, Sarah?]

One bullet a week isn't enough for me, then?

[But she backs up, opening the door wider. It's far safer for her neighbors if they're inside with her, and thankfully Breeze is out for the day.]

Just don't touch the cat.

[ Oh Jesus Christ, Sarissa. Sarah immediately tries to put herself in between the two women, holding one hand back to keep Sarissa from pushing past her. She looks over her shoulder at Clara, hoping she can convey the appropriate amount of "this was not my idea" in her eyes, but that part's not important right now. Right now, she's concerned with stopping Sarissa from going too far. ]

Look, we just wanna talk.

The cat? I wouldn't--

( She shuts her mouth with a grimace. This isn't her. This loss of cobtrol, this isn't who she used to be of what she ever wanted to be.

This checks a lot of boxes on "things she hates," actually, but family and brutality are carved into her very bones. She just hasn't worked out what it all means amd how to fix it.

She looks at Sarah and feels the dinking dread of shame and this being so wrong on do many levels (turning a gun on a possibly unarmed and possibly innocent woman just part of it). That shame is tempered and conflicting with a protectiveness that burns her as surely as any brand.

The gun doesn't drop.

Quietly, )

Far out. Yeah, we just want to talk.

( She's less convincing than Sarah. )

Edited 2016-08-11 23:17 (UTC)

[She looks between them, distrust clear in her eyes, before finally gesturing to usher them into the apartment. The front entrance leads into a tiny kitchen - a box of kids' sugary cereal is open on the countertop - and through its narrow doorway is a cramped but warmly-lit living room. Scattered across every available surface is the detritus of life in Apartment #222, from mascara tubes to fluffy bedroom slippers to science magazines. Three young women live here, the space says, and they have done so very happily until the last couple of days.

Clara primly takes a seat in a worn armchair, leaving the sofa open. Her eyes are still narrow and stern.

To Sarah, ] Brianna's at the pool. [To Sarissa, ] If she comes through that door, you're going to hide that gun. She's thirteen, and I won't have her feeling unsafe here.

Now - what did you want to talk about? Cosima, I presume?

[ Sarah keeps herself near Sarissa in case she needs to, god, tackle her or something. She keeps coming back to the box of cereal on the counter and the knowledge that there's some kid who could come walking in at any second, and how she'd feel if that were Kira. How she has felt when it's been Kira.

She'd been pretty sure that Clara hadn't had a single thing to do with Cosima going missing, and she's certain of it now. When she speaks, it's to Clara, though she keeps her eyes on Sarissa, waiting. ]

Should only take a minute, and then we'll be out of your hair. [ Won't we. ]

I know Bree. ( Irritated, though she feels a bit like she's standing on shifting sand. It's hard to be self righteous when you can feel the justifications slipping out form under you, and you've managed to show yourself for something chaotic and dangerous. I don't scare children seems like a singularly weak argument, right now.

She can feel Sarah's gaze on her, even as her own is on Clara, and she finally pulls it back to look at Sarah. She tries to keep it defiant, a silent are you fucking kidding me? which doesn't endure near so well as she'd like.

Sure, you try to find out where two missing women are, and suddenly you're the bad guy.

With an irritated huff of breath she twists the gun in her hand so she's holding the barrel, and hands it grip-first towards Sarah. Rough and quiet, ) I'll be wanting that back.

( And then, to Clara: ) Did you have anything to do with Alison and Cosima disappearing?

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