life_inshadow | Tara + Kennedy's Room at Sa Diablo Hall, Friday Afternoon Fandom Time

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Tara + Kennedy's Room at Sa Diablo Hall, Friday Afternoon Fandom Time

After her visit to Raven, Tara had spent most of the day lying in bed. She wasn't sad -- not exactly. But she was feeling very thoughtful and troubled and inside-her-head-y, and even the pleasures of the keep weren't enough to have her very social.

She kept coming back to two facts that didn't make much sense next to each other. One was that she'd killed. In self-defense, maybe, and not a human -- but there was still blood on her hands, and she felt guilt for that.

Yet, beneath that, she felt a yearning that she had been able to do more. Not more killing, of course -- but her shields were puny, her telekinesis weak, her offensive magic basically nonexistent. She knew she could do more, if she was brave enough to play with spells just a little further into the gray than she normally let herself go.

It was dangerous. She knew witches could get lost chasing the rush of strong magics. But she almost felt like it was hard to say it wasn't worth the risk, if it could save her friends.

[OOC: Open to those in Kaeleer. NFB. Part of this thing.]

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Ever since the Jhinka had met their abrupt and messy end, Kennedy had felt like she'd never really be clean again; like that fine red mist that'd been the only evidence left of their existence had been clinging to her ever since.

She'd spent some time out on the practice grounds doing drills earlier, but she was too damned tired and sore to accomplish much. Without physical activity to throw herself into as distraction, she'd resorted to a really long hot bath and some overly vigorous scrubbing. It sort of helped.

"You're rocking the introspective today," she remarked as she finished toweling her hair dry and came over to sit on the edge of the bed. "Unless I'm mistaking that for tired."

"Tired's part of it," Tara admitted, with a tiny weak smile. "I dunno. I keep thinking about the jhinka yesterday, and ... I don't know. I feel awful but kind of not?"

She sat up further on the bed, patting it to indicate Kennedy should sit by her. "How about you?"

Kennedy didn't waste any time taking up the invitation, climbing up to settle next to Tara. "Well, tired is a given. Kind of wigged out by what Jaenelle pulled off. There's a little room in there for being proud of us, too."

She tried to catch Tara's eyes. "What's the worse part: the feeling awful or the kind of not?"

"Proud," Tara said, as if it hadn't crossed her mind yet. "Yeah. I guess we should be proud."

She reached over to play with the bottom of Kennedy's hair, in an absent need for contact. "The kind of not," she said. "There's this p-part of me that wishes I had done more. It's scary."

"I thought you were amazing," Kennedy answered, scooting over to lean into her. "Though I guess I don't really get why it's scary. It's not like-- okay, what Jaenelle did is scary. And kind of insane. And I'm cool with you not doing anything like that, but..."

Her expression was honestly confused. "I don't get where the bad is in wanting to get better."

"Because magic is powerful," Tara answered simply, settling against Kennedy firmly. "My whole life, that's what I've been told. Wiccans can't do too much magic, not if they want things to be okay. Basically I'd probably destroy myself if I tried to push things too far. M-maybe the whole world."

Though there was an edge of doubt in her voice that wouldn't have been there eighteen months ago. People had been telling her she was a demon her whole childhood, too, and that wasn't true. How could she know for sure that the whole thing about magic being dangerous wasn't just another fairy tale?

"Yeah, but." The skepticism in Kennedy's voice came from her entirely outside perspective on magic and the ethics thereof. "What exactly counts as 'too far?' 'cause that's pretty vague if you ask me, and to be honest? You saved my ass back there in that alley, which puts that kind of practice firmly in the plus column for me."

"That's the thing," Tara said, worrying at her lower lip before she spoke. "It's not, not like there's a page in a spell book that says 'danger, don't do anything past here.' I could ask my mom, but ... I hate worrying her. W-we don't get to talk that often."

She picked at a loose thread on the blanket and worked at her lip some more. "I could try some more telekinesis, at least..." She couldn't deny it was useful, and there didn't seem to be anything dangerous at work there.

Kennedy turned slightly so she could rest her chin on Tara's shoulder. "I was going to ask if there was a big magic stop sign somewhere," she offered, a faint note of laughter in her voice. "And I get the feeling if I asked Constance, she'd come down on both of us like a ton of stuffy, repressed bricks."

Which was not very encouraging-sounding at all, so she blew out a breath and continued, "But-- floating bigger things, or getting fancier with it? Doesn't sound like there's danger of evil there." When, exactly, had she turned into the person who could have these conversations without thinking she sounded insane, again?

There was a hysterical note in Tara's laughter. "We definitely cannot ask Constance," she agreed. "She kind of scares me already, and if I asked her how much magic I could do..."

She wasn't sure, so she trailed off. Were there special schools for witches or something?

"Anyhow," she continued, "I should work on the floating, yeah. And shielding. I was talking to Lucivar about it and I felt so useless."

"You wanna talk feeling useless, I am so not any help in this conversation," Kennedy half-quipped, curling closer against her. "But you are so not useless, and I've got your back. Whatever you decide to do? I can totally be your cheering squad."

This was Tara; as far as Kennedy was concerned, she didn't have anything to worry about.

"You are the opposite of useless," Tara said firmly, running her hand down Kennedy's side. "I like the idea of a cheering squad. Can there be pompoms?"

It was the kind of silly question you asked when you weren't sure you wanted to think any longer.

"Do I have to?" Kennedy asked with a playful whine. "I mean, I don't know. I'm not really a pompoms kinda girl."

She was more than happy to go along with not thinking any longer; it wasn't really a train of thought she felt qualified to ride. And it was all a little too deep for her.

"You could chant rah-rah-rah stuff instead," Tara suggested. "Oooh, or a flippy little skirt. Though I am probably going to take a really long nap first thing when we get home, myself."

"A flippy little skirt? On me?" Kennedy managed to do a very good job of sounding genuinely scandalized-- because she was, a little bit. "Although a nap sounds good, and I could so join you for that; I'm still pretty worn out."

She did glance pointedly at the bed, though. "Not that it looks like you've wandered very far from here all day."

"I wear skirts all the time. They don't give you cancer or anything," Tara protested back, but idly, in a way that didn't really expect Kennedy to agree. (Besides, her skirts weren't so much on the flippy little end of the spectrum.)

She looked guilty at the next bit. "Mmmm, not so much. I went to see Raven, but that was about it. She's -- dealing."

"I do actually know how to wear one," Kennedy returned, her tone light in the way of not really trying to win the argument. "I just don't, usually."

She absently reached down to catch the tips of Tara's fingers with her own. "Girl had a really rough time of it when everything went down, huh?"

Tara squeezed the fingertips in response before she answered. "More than in just an empath way," she answered. "The whole thing reminded her of her dad. She said she was worried he'd come out."

She shrugged a little. "I told her I felt safer with her than with almost anyone."

Edited 2010-10-30 00:33 (UTC)

"Mmm," agreed Kennedy vaguely. "I think most people would file that under ironic, all things considered, but I'm with you on it."

Thinking about 'the whole thing,' though, drew a slight shiver she couldn't hold back. "God." Kennedy rubbed at her arm again, like she still couldn't get rid of the feeling of something gross and sticky. "That was kind of terrifying, huh."

"It was horrible," Tara said. "It was -- I never imagined anything that bad, ever. I d-d-didn't know what we were in for. I don't know if I would have come, if I had."

Kennedy moved to wrap both arms around Tara and pull her close. "I didn't anticipate this much bad. Didn't even realize the scale for bad went that high," she admitted, "but I'm not sorry I came."

She fell silent for a moment before murmuring, "Please tell me you're gonna be okay?"

"No," Tara agreed firmly. "Definitely not sorry I came."

She didn't answer the part about being okay, because she honestly wasn't sure.

Edited 2010-10-30 12:20 (UTC)

Which... yeah, the omission did not escape Kennedy.

"If you don't think the answer is yes, I get it," she offered in a quiet voice.

"I think the answer is I don't know," Tara said, grateful for Kennedy's catch. "There were a lot of dead people. It's not like I just shake that off."

Equally quiet, she added, "Are you okay?"

Kennedy went silent for several very long, weighted moments and finally shook her head. "Not so much, no." So her voice cracked a tiny bit; she wouldn't deny it.

Tara reached to draw Kennedy into a hug. "We will be," she promised, with a tiny quaver in her voice that doubted it.

"Always are, right?" Kennedy couldn't quite put her usual easy confidence into the question today; no, she was kind of clinging to Tara a little too much for that.

"Strong like Amazons," Tara answered, something like desperation in her tone. Kennedy never clinged. "It's just -- just going to take a while before we're back to normal."

Kennedy wasn't a fan of being clingy, truth be told; she'd gotten it into her head that she was supposed to be the tough one, and she couldn't be that when she was clingy, and... bah. Felt like she was letting Tara down this way, so she forced a little more stubbornness into her voice.

"Well, for as much as normal applies when you have fronds like we do, we're gonna be fine." Maybe she could say it out loud a few more times? It was sort of convincing. "We're... just totally allowed a little breather before we start working on that."

Tara caught that forced note and drew up her resolve. She knew she tended to rely on Kennedy too much sometimes, because it was easy. But if Kennedy needed her to be stronger...

She nodded, more enthusiastically than before. "Right," she said. "We can just go home and ... be normal. Normal, normal, normal. It'll help."

"Normal," echoed Kennedy, a touch more steady now. "We can rock the normal."

She took another breath then, impulsively, leaned in to kiss Tara. Call it gratitude or comfort or whatever, it just seemed like a necessary thing.

"Normal," Tara agreed, once she drew back enough to talk. She wanted to just drown in that kiss. "If we're normal together, everything else will just ... kind of happen."

"And we're still an awesome team," added Kennedy, lingering close enough to touch her forehead to Tara's. "So we'll make it happen."

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Tara + Kennedy's Room at Sa Diablo Hall, Friday Afternoon Fandom Time

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