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. ]

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Bullshit.

( A rough, quiet murmur. ) You can say you love someone easy. Saying it doesn't mean you don't hurt someone. Feeling it doesn't mean it.

( She looks to Sarah, frustrated and unable to articulate all the reasons why, but there's an air of are you just going to accept that? in the way she moves, all caged tiger. )

Why should we believe you?

[Clara's out of her chair immediately, all five feet of her, eyes sharp as claws but full of fire.]

Because I can't hurt her! Do you understand that? I don't care about your distrust, or your doubt, because I would gladly kill myself before letting Cosima come to harm by my own hand. I wouldn't hesitate a heartbeat. [She stop for breath; she doesn't need to.] Have you ever loved someone like that?

[If she focuses, she can still feel Danny's cold arms. She can still smell his burned skin, and feel the complete oblivion of knowing she would never get to love him correctly. She always swore she wouldn't make that mistake with Cosima.]

This world sends people home, all the time. It happens every day. Look on the bloody network before you come waving a gun in my house.

Edited (IT SPONTANEOUSLY CHANGED MY ICON WHAT) 2016-08-16 06:17 (UTC)

Don't you dare, ( she starts, stepping forward to match Clara, voice tight and words ground out harsh, ) ever question how much I love my family.

( And she does. She doesn't even know if they are family, but she loves them, would do anything for them, would tear herself apart if it'd keep them safe. Sarah, Alison, Cosima, and Felix as well. Four people she'd let the world carve her to pieces for, and two of them are missing.

Family isn't the half of it. Sarissa could wax poetic and make dramatic speeches all night about her cousin and her aunt and uncle and her mum, and they'd still be utterly eclipsed by Georgia. She was like a bloody meteor that could take out half the planet, and Sarissa still loved her more than she loved the fresh cut of cold air in her lungs and the heavy beat of her pulse. Georgia was more essential than anything, and she's the one person Sarissa won't talk about, not in front of this presumptuous little rat. )

They aren't gone. They can't be gone. ( Just a shade too raw, just on the gone. They can't be gone because they don't even know Sarissa back home, and Christ knows if they ever will. They can't be gone because of what that means for Sarah and for Felix, who have them stitched into the fabric of them far more than Sarissa does, no matter how much she loves them. ) If you're so in love with Cosima maybe you'd be out looking instead of sitting around reading your fucking Atlas. You've given up on her. I haven't.

I was out all night doing just that, mate. [She spent hours combing the city with tech bummed off the Doctor, and trying to trace the sisters' phone signals. All she found were the telltale signs of a Port-out, and a lot of emptiness in her chest.] Their communicator signals are gone, and they've disappeared from the list of available contacts. It's happened to hundreds of people before. I understand loss, Sarissa. It's never right, and it never makes sense, and sometimes it doesn't get better. Sometimes people get destroyed by it, from the inside out, and your sisters wouldn't want that for any of us. You've got to use your head over your heart right now, before you hurt anyone.

[She slaps the road atlas down onto the coffee table, and her hands dig into her hips.] I'm going out of town for a few days. Got plans I have to keep, with someone I've destroyed. You can put a goddamn tracker on me if you want. Follow me in a police cruiser, I don't care. I've broken time and space before for the people I love, and I can't let myself get lost like that again.

[ Sarah can't take this anymore, not least because standing here watching two people in a pissing match over who loves Cosima more is starting to get her pretty pissed off. Clara's got no idea, and neither does Sarissa, when it comes down to it, what she and Alison and Cosima have been through together. What they'll continue to go through for who knows how long. What it really means if they've both gone home permanently. How many sleepless nights Sarah will spend worrying about them, what's happening to them. How it won't ever, ever stop.

All of this shit is just talk, and talk is cheap, and her sisters are gone. That much is obvious. The rest is just trying to get through it with a modicum of dignity.

She moves in between Sarissa and Clara again, pushing lightly at Sarissa with one hand, trying to urge her toward the door. ]

We're going. [ It's said both to Clara and to Sarissa. The meaning behind her words is clear. I'm going, and if you don't come with me, I'm going without you. ] There's nothing for us here.

( She's like to have some smart reply, some retort, but she's got nothing. Her gaze is locked on Clara, and she despises how raw she feels and how obvious it is. Her breath would be more appropriate for someone who's been sprinting than someone just standing there.

It's almost a relief when Sarah pushes at her. Sarissa's gaze drops, dragged promptly back up to look at Sarah, and she gives just one nod. )

Right.

( It's not sorry - deserved by Clara and Sarah and the cat, probably - and it sure as Hell isn't anything helpful.

Taking a step back, and then another, Sarissa looks back at Clara, and some of the rawness has been wiped away. Not much, though, and not very effectively. It's probably the emotional equivalent of trying to clean up an oil spill armed only with paper towel. )

If that's what you want.

( To Sarah, again, before she slightly more cooperatively turns and starts heading out the way they came. )

[Clara watches them both through dark eyes, her motionless chest just adding to the intensity of her glare. She feels frightening, inhuman. Every bit the alien soldier Danny Pink took her for. There's cement in her veins, and she wants Sarah and Sarissa to leave, before her words grow even colder. It occurs to her that she might envy Cosima's family a bit. They all have pounding hearts and passionate eyes, and though there's pain written on each vein, there's no questioning that they're alive.

She toes aside a fashion magazine and a glittery pencil as she halfheartedly follows her guests to the door. The gun's outline is still visible in Sarah's pocket, and it threatens to fuel the anger still choking Clara's throat. There are no goodbyes - just the scrape of the door closing, and the click of the lock. And long after their footsteps disappear down the stairs, Clara stays leaning against the countertop.

Sarissa was right about one thing - Cosima can't be gone. The universe owes her better than that, even after all she's done to damage it.

After all, every lonely monster needs a companion.]

[ Once out of the apartment, door shut and locked behind them, Sarah heaves a sigh. That. Did not go the way she'd hoped it would. It did, however, go about as well as she'd feared it might.

Shoulders tight, she turns to Sarissa, ready to lay into her—what were you thinking, that was exactly what we agreed you wouldn't do, what the fuck is wrong with you? All of that and more is on her tongue, but when she sees Sarissa's face, the emotion she's trying and failing to keep back, the way she's breathing like she's just been running, Sarah deflates, her anger leaving her just as quickly as it came.

The truth is, this is bullshit. It's bullshit it's sad and it's not fair, it's not fair for Cosima and Alison to be gone so soon after meeting Sarissa, and it's not fair for them to be gone when this world was the only god damn break Cosima was going to get from her illness. Just like it's not fair that Sarah's here while Kira's not, or like George and Chloe are going to go back to being dead sooner or later, or like there's a good chance Clone Club might never meet Sarissa once they're all back home. It's just not fair.

So she doesn't say anything. Just slips an arm around Sarissa's shoulders, if she'll let her, trying to say without words that she gets it. She really gets it, and it's not okay, but this is all they can do. ]

( Sarissa isn't great with physical affection. More accurately, she loves it, but is so unused to it being offered to her these past few years that she's not sure how to react. Hugging Cosima had gotten easy, and Sarah holds the same family tie that Sarissa only tenses for a brief moment before slumping into the contact. It's a moment longer before her arm loop around Sarah's waist.

Personally she'd be glad for silence, but it's not like this is one to sweep under the rug. )

Sorry. About your sisters.

( Not about Clara. At least she can be rigid about that, even if she knoes its unfair. But Sarah's lost two thirds of her family here, and Sarissa doesn't know how to fix it. At least Felix is still here. )

Yours too.

[ Because even though the conversation inside rankled her, it's the way Clone Club operates. Once you're in, you're in. You're part of the family. Doesn't matter if they've only known her a few months, Sarissa is Sarah's sister, and she's Alison's and Cosima's too.

Arm slung over Sarissa's shoulders, Sarah starts to head back to the car, walking slow. She's not in any particular hurry now that they're out of Clara's apartment with a locked door in between her and them. ]

It's the not knowing that's the worst, yeah?

( With that Sarissa shrugs stiffly, as if guilt were restricting her movements. Seems selfish, somehow, calling Alison and Cosima her sisters. She cares about them, adores them, gets annoyed as hell by them, but sisters? What was true in the heat of the moment felt melodramatic or presumptuous, now, and her stomach is twisting about itself in knots. Her heels scuff the ground as they walk, battering her boots with little concern. )

Yeah, but— it still tears. We know they're gone. Doesn't make 'em less gone.

( So they know that they won't see them again. Before there'd been hope, maybe. Being hopeful seemed like it'd be a nice alternative to this. Her jaw shifts with the slow grind of her teeth. )

Sorry. They're— ( Your real sisters. The more acceptable version: ) You've known 'em longer.

( And, not quite brashly, too slow for it but with an edge of it in there all the same, )
Want to go somewhere?

Yeah. Sure.

[ As long as it's not to Alison's place to harass her housemates. Sarah almost adds this last bit out loud, then figures no, better not. Too Soon. ]

Got a place in mind?

Bottleshop, bourbon, beach.

( Bit of flatness to it, like she's burned through her anger and now there's nothing left to run on. )

Wherever.

[ Sarah squeezes Sarissa's shoulders a bit as she heads toward the car. When they reach it, she takes the gun out of her pocket and hands it back to Sarissa. ]

Here. [ She's keeping the bullets, though, for now. ]

Cheers.

( Sarissa sighs a little, spins the gun in her hand and then hides it away in the holster at her back.

Slipping into the driver seat, Sarissa just waits with her hands on the wheel. )

How long have you been here? Do you just-- get used to them ripping into your guts like that? Taking people away?

Little over a year. [ She sighs, sinking back against the passenger seat. ] You don't get used to it. You learn to live with it.

[ She looks out the window so she doesn't have to look at Sarissa. ] I used to think—maybe Kira would come here. And I could be a real mum. But she never did, and then I thought... at least I can be a good sister while I'm here, make up for some of the shit I did back home. [ She shakes her head. She's not a good sister or a good mum or a good anything, and rather than helping her fix it, being in this place is only making it more obvious. ]

You are a real mum. ( It's weird, sometimes, to look at Sarah and remember she has a kid. She seems as chaotic as Sarissa, sometimes, and then there's other times like tonight when she's the one holding things together.

The words stick in her throat, and she tries to clear it without a good deal of success. ) You're thinking about her. Concerned about her. You want her with you. That's— that's real mum stuff.

( It's edging on too close to things she prefers not to talk about much, and that she definitely has no desire to pile on Sarah now, and Sarissa shrugs. )

I think you're a good sister. Granted, I'm an only child, so. ( A glance at Sarah, a brief grin, and it fades away as she reaches for the ignition and starts the car. ) I wouldn't give praise from me much weight, but.

[ She doesn't think that if Sarissa heard about how she's treated Kira in the past she'd be so quick to call her a real mother. Real mums stay with their kid. They don't take off in the middle of the night, they don't choose getting high over spending time with them, and they don't disappear for ten months to live on the beach with bruises all over their back. ]

I think you're a good sister, too. [ When Sarah first met her sisters, she wanted to rob them, to run away and never look back. Sarissa would kill for them. ]

Let's go to the beach, yeah?

( A huffed out breath of laughter, and she glances sidelong as Sarah. )

Whatever you reckon, Sarah.

( And, before it can be marked for the radiant self-loathing it is (she hopes) Sarissa tacks on: ) I'm a fucking amazing sister, is what I am.

( Excuse her, just checking the road before she pulls out, it's good, it's fine. ) Think pizza places deliver to the beach?

Sure. Beach has an address, right?

[ Besides, they're imPorts. Even if a pizza place won't deliver to native citizens, it'll surely deliver to them, no matter where they are. ]

It will do if it doesn't already.

( There's something conspiratorial in it, somehow, as she drives and chucks Sarah a look.

Though, despite her efforts as being calm and casual, the rougher breathing and the tension are still there, and she lapses into a broody kind of silence for a bit, until they finally hit the car park near the beach. She rolls down the windows, and lets the salt air roll in, inhaling deeply as she reaches for her phone. )

How hungry are you?

I could eat.

[ She's pretty hungry, actually. Looking for Alison and Cosima has been taking up a lot of her time, and sleeping and eating have fallen by the wayside for now. ]

Right.

( The phones already ringing, and she pushes the car door open and steps out. The call involves ordering three pizzas, garlic bread, chicken wings and a bottle of bourbon, which gets a long silence from Sarissa before she just says imPort and hangs up, satisfied. )

They're giving us complimentary churros. ( A pause. ) What the fuck is a churro?

( Sarissa, queen of pizza and also comfort food. )

S'like a stick of fried dough with cinnamon and sugar on top. Heavenly.

[ Sarah steps out of the car and leans up against the hood, watching the surf. She's glad Sarissa ordered the bourbon. Nothing makes the beach nicer than a cold drink. ]

You live near the beach when you were in Australia? [ She... honestly is just kind of assuming everyone in Australia lives near a beach. ]

Huh. Sounds kinda like tulumba.'Cept uh, that's got syrup, not cinnamon.

( Sarissa, meanwhile, hitches herself up to sit on the bonnet, leaning back against the glass. For a few seconds she's silent. )

Not where I grew up. We had seas of sheep and grass and scrub. Vast oceans of dirt. ( There's a wry fondness to her tone. ) Melbourne's got St.Kilda but you're two minutes from stepping on a needle most of the time. Sydney has better beaches, but you'd have to go to Sydney.

( Gross tbh )

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