outsiderslogs | god forbid i would show some understanding

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god forbid i would show some understanding

who. Severa, York
what. Severa crosses the wrong turian and ends up in a bar fight
where. The Quad
when. After her gun training session, in the wake of the shuttle explosion
warnings. A very stupid, cocky teenager

"You wanna repeat that?"

Of course, Severa knew better than to actually answer, once she knew she'd insulted the birdlike creature—a turian, decked in a shade of blue she'd seen on a few other aliens around here. But there was no way he'd actually attack her. And even if he did, Severa knew that she'd probably win. Between Starscream and York, she'd gotten pretty good at using her pistol.

"What's the hardest part about treating—" was as far as she got into re-telling the joke she'd overheard from some other humans before she saw the turian start to stand up. He didn't even have to get to his full height for Severa to see that she was several inches shorter than him. Not that it scared her. As coolly as she did anything, she reached for her pistol at her hip, hoping that that would be enough to stop him from doing anything.

No such luck. He'd had something much bigger strapped across his back. Severa recognized it as what they called an assault rifle, though she wasn't sure what kind. This was really not the time. As the turian's gun readied itself, the other two people sitting at his table scooted their chairs away. Severa didn't see anyone else moving, so she exhaled and raised her pistol to eye level, lining any potential shots up with where a heart would be on a human. It was a gamble, but everything so far had been one, too.

It took a quick recollection of what assault rifles could actually do to people, especially those without armor, for Severa to realize she was in way over her head. "I don't want to do this," she said, not letting her gun drop. The turian wasn't budging either. This was turning into a terrible idea.

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Maybe telling Severa to meet her at The Quad wasn't the best idea, but hey, a girl's gotta work, and Severa was at least older than most of the teenagers who usually came in here looking for her. York had figured that at the very least Severa'd be fine while she ran to the back room to grab a few extra bottles for the shelf, but she overheard a fuss being raised and the second she stepped back into the bar, she saw guns pointed.

"Whoa, hey, hey," York said loudly, setting the bottles down on the bar, and she gave the turian an unimpressed look. It wasn't like fights didn't break out in here all the time, but guns being raised were a pretty strict no-no, and like hell Severa was anywhere near prepared for this. York wasn't even sure she knew how to point and shoot that thing without getting slammed in the gut with recoil. She waved one arm sharply. "Guns down, people. This is Davrax's establishment, remember? And he doesn't like bullet holes in his bar. So put that assault rifle down nice and slow, you hear me? Besides, she's just a kid. Cool your jets."

The turian didn't look all that convinced, and he definitely didn't lower his rifle. "She looks old enough to me," he said, only looking at York briefly. "Besides, she insulted me."

"I told a joke," she insisted indignantly, though she was obviously grateful that York was there to save her ass. (Not that she considered it in quite those terms.) She didn't lower her pistol at first either, and definitely wasn't going to take that chance if the turian hadn't done it first. She kept staring him down, the way she had on the battlefield, back before Chrom or Robin had given the order to attack.

She was absolutely not a kid, either, but this was not the right time to fiddle over semantics. Not those kind of semantics, anyway. "I thought turians were supposed to be funny," she said, though it was an entirely unfounded idea that she'd basically just made up on the spot. Which might have been better than stereotype-laden jokes. Maybe. Her confidence definitely wasn't fading, at any rate, now that she knew someone else was on her side.

"Yeah, I'd like to know where you got that impression," York muttered with a snort. The turian's mandibles flared, his eyes narrowing. He was starting to look like he might point it at York instead.

"Humans," he spat. "I see what's going on here. You know, ever since Davrax started trying to attract more humans to this bar, it's turned into a real cesspool. I see the kind of treatment I'm getting here."

"Let's give Dave some credit," York said without batting an eye. "This place was always a cesspool. Now put down that gun or I'm gonna make you eat it. And don't think Dave's not gonna hear about this."

The turian looked like he might chance it for a moment, like he might try and shoot one of them before they could get in, but in the end it looked like he didn't want to piss off Davrax that badly. After all, he hadn't always been a bar owner, and he had Blood Pack ties. The turian lowered his rifle, sneering.

"Don't think I won't forget this," he said, holstering the rifle.

Davrax? Gods, these two obviously had a history together. York and Davrax, or Davrax and this turian, or whatever; it was the least important thing right now, and Severa was happy to regard it as such. She did listen to the entire conversation, even as adrenaline stopped its rush and she rode the wave out.

If nothing else, she'd gotten this turian in trouble, and that was almost as good as anything else she could have done today. Plus, it ended with much less bloodshed. A good day by anyone's standards. Severa kept her gun drawn for but a second more after she saw that York had convinced her aggressor; soon it was back at her hip, where it frankly belonged.

Common sense told her not to say anything, and she listened to it about as often as usual. "I'd be insulted if you did," was the best she could come up with on short notice, but she managed to put as much smug self-satisfaction as she could into those few words. Yeah, York was definitely on her side. She glanced up at her friend—or the bartender? Security guard? Whatever hat she was wearing right now—at any rate, Severa's eyes filled with a conspiratorial sort of hope.

"Cool it, kid," York muttered at Severa. The last thing she needed was to run that surprisingly smart mouth of hers. But to York's relief, the turian didn't do much more than snort derisively at them, mandibles flaring. He narrowed his eyes, sneering.

"You can tell Davrax he's lost a long-time customer," he said, shouldering roughly past the both of them for the exit.

"Don't let the door hit your flat ass on the way out," York called after him, raising her voice just loud enough to be heard. She rolled her eyes, ignoring the looks a few of the other patrons were giving her. Guarded, a little wary. Probably some of 'em felt the same way as that turian. But everybody else in this bar respected Dun Davrax enough to keep their traps shut.

York turned back to Severa, a hand on her hip, eyebrows raised expectantly. "Do you not have off color jokes in your universe, or do you not get that people find them offensive?"

Oh, whatever. Severa knew she was in the right here, maybe not through her actions but definitely on principle—why else would somebody else be coming to her defense? Except maybe to make sure she didn't get killed. Psh, she could totally have handled herself.

Still, York's tone was clear, and she kept her cocky mouth shut until the turian was gone. And then York's question came and, well. It was definitely a good one. Yeah, they had those jokes, but... but.

"He should just have a thicker skin!" Severa protested, still convinced that that was the problem. "It was just a joke!" Of course, the real problem was that there weren't really any other species back where she came from—even the taguel were down to two—so nobody had ever really called her out on that sort of thing before.

Fitting as much hurt into her words as she could fake, she added with crossed arms, "I thought people liked jokes around here."

Severa's a smart kid in a lot of ways, but in others, holy mother of god she's dumb as a brick. York pinches the bridge of her nose, drawing in a breath through her nose. "Does the word offensive not even register with you?"

She's cocky -- a little too cocky, and York really can't talk, but the fact of the matter is sooner or later Severa's going to get her cute little head in a whole lot more trouble than she can handle, without her friendly bartender-slash-bodyguard there to save her ass. Today was a little too much of a taste test for York's comfort. So she puts on the sternest face she can manage -- it's more deadpan than anything, but the bad eye does add a bit of intimidation factor that definitely wouldn't be there otherwise, at least -- and she leans over, grasping Severa firmly by the chin.

"Leave the comedy act at home, kid," York says, and there's a dry sort of humor in her voice, but it's firm enough that nobody would mistake her for joking around. "I don't think most people around here find you funny, and if you don't learn to stop runnin' your mouth off to every alien twice your size who looks at you funny, sooner or later somebody's gonna decide to seal it shut for you. You hearin' me?"

...Well, crap, this was no longer the fun-loving (if slightly scary) person that Severa had built up York to be. This was a deadly serious one-eyed person who definitely knew what she was talking about. Kind of like her mother. Severa's expression soured as her mind drew that comparison, but having her chin grabbed definitely didn't help the situation.

"Fine, gawds," she spat out as she tried to jerk her head free of York's hold. "I just don't get why it's such a big deal. It's not my fault I've never seen any of these aliens before." If she weren't currently feeling really intimidated, she'd keep up the defiant act with her body language. Instead, she just leveled a half-hearted glare up at York. "Come on, doesn't everybody make mistakes?"

Edited 2013-06-10 04:10 (UTC)

"Yeah, except the point of making a mistake is you learn from it and don't do it again." York let go of Severa's face, pursing her lips. For all that she was giving a lecture here, she really wasn't cut out for this disciplinarian shit. She could be a hardass, but man, mostly she didn't want any dead teenagers on her watch.

"Were you born without common sense? C'mon, kid, you're old enough to be able to use your better judgment." York ran a hand through her hair, shaking her head. Man, now she felt like she needed a drink. She moves to get back behind the bar, gesturing to a barstool. "Go on, siddown. You realize I'm tellin' you how to avoid gettin' your ass killed, right?"

Begrudgingly, as if that were the only way Severa knew how to react right now, she took York's offer and plopped herself down on the stool. "I killed a god," she pouted, probably not loud enough to be heard over the din of the bar. At least York wasn't grabbing her face anymore.

"I'm not a child, York." Though she sure could act like one. "Just because I didn't know how to use a gun until I came here doesn't mean I can't take care of myself." And under her breath, but deliberately loud enough to be heard this time, she added, "Like you're so perfect."

Sure, she had zero frame of reference, but York was really reminding her of her mother at this point—with the added advantage of not actually being her mother, so Severa felt like she could freely mouth off without serious consequence. Well, more than usual.

Good lord. The worst thing was that York was pretty sure she was at least that bad at Severa's age, and it made her groan inwardly to think about it. Not like she was a perfect bastion of maturity these days, either, but at least she had the sense to own up to when she'd been an idiot. Well, mostly.

York, looking none too impressed with Severa's argument, just raised one eyebrow. "Yeah, you're right. I'm definitely not perfect. I've made plenty of mistakes. You might've noticed my face." She gestured vaguely to the left side of her face, the milky white of her bad eye. "The difference is, I know I did some dumb-ass shit, and I'm not plannin' on doing it again, so help me. Only children refuse to admit they were wrong, kiddo. So if you're not a child..."

She shrugged, spreading her hands. Okay, okay, she'd embellished a little on her own part -- if Severa only knew this was the second time the same damn thing's happened to her face, grenades and all -- but come on, she was trying to make a point. That was the important thing, right? Because baiting Severa's pride was totally a legitimate way to make it.

Edited 2013-06-17 01:51 (UTC)

That argument was where the similarities with her mother ended. Cordelia never would have said anything like that, least of all with the kind of language York was using. If pride-baiting was the wrong way to win a fight, Severa definitely didn't know the right way. She looked in equal parts ready to storm out of the bar and/or sulk ineffectually for the rest of the night.

"Fine," she sputtered out like York was asking her to give up an arm. "I won't tell any more jokes about turians to turians." And yes, the same applied to every species, which she hoped to convey with an overly dramatic roll of her eyes. "Clearly it was a terrible idea." Though she chose the words in that sentence carefully, keeping "it" just ambiguous enough to make it seem like she'd learned her lesson when really she still thought the bigger problem was getting caught. Don't let anybody ever say she wasn't clever sometimes. Or stupid most of the time. But right now she definitely felt like she'd gotten away with something.

"You won't be telling any more jokes about anything to anyone," York insisted, largely unnecessarily. Far be it from York to put anybody down, but if she didn't want Severa to end up riddled full of holes, it was probably a better idea to quash any idea of a career in comedy right about now. She reached underneath the bar for two glasses, holding them together by the handles with a quiet clink. "You're god damn right it was a terrible idea."

She filled both of them from a tap -- some kind of asari version of mead, made with some Thessian version of honey since way back when. Davrax kept it on tap as a personal favorite. York couldn't say she didn't like it. She set one glass down in front of Severa, giving her an expectant look.

"Now, if you've got all of the bar fight out of your system," she said pointedly, taking a sip, "was there somethin' you wanted?"

Edited 2013-07-08 04:22 (UTC)

Severa gave York a sidelong glance while she was filling the glasses, and a more direct one when one got placed in front of her. "Alien mead," she said flatly, kind of like she wanted to be surprised but knew that absolutely nothing would surprise her anymore around here. At least all that stupid admonishment was more or less over with.

Severa hadn't come here for any particular reason that she could recall. She'd just wanted some time away from Starscream and the squalor of her living conditions—compared to her apartment, the Quad was basically a palace. And she liked York's company, even with the whole parental... thing.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I wanted a change of scenery." Picking up the glass, she raised it to her nose in case it was something noxious. It smelled stronger than what little mead she'd had available to her back home, but it wasn't altogether unappetizing. She took a sip, just for taste.

Her face lit up with a smile almost involuntarily. This mead tasted really good. But it would be unladylike to chug it all down, no matter how much she wanted to.

Alright, the smile on Severa's face was pretty satisfying, York couldn't lie. She had a feeling Severa was only about half as sorry as she seemed, but hey, some lessons took time to sink in. York knew that was definitely the case with her on more than one occasion.

"It's got a name, but I can't pronounce it," she said glibly, resting one hip against the bar. She took another sip, contemplative-like. Davrax didn't strictly approve of drinking on the job, but he didn't really care, either. "Please tell me your idea of a change of scenery doesn't involve bullets."

"That wasn't supposed to happen," Severa protested, and it really wasn't. It's not like she woke up and said "today, I'm gonna piss off a turian and get in a standoff" or anything. "Do you have any idea what it's like having to live like I do? Gods, I'm used to less than ideal conditions, but at least the barracks had decor."

Making an obscene gesture towards ladylike behavior in her head, Severa quaffed her mead in an impressive amount of time, almost (but not quite) fast enough that she couldn't taste it. Without a cloth to maintain some illusion of decorum, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve. The smile returned soon after, but more confident and sly this time, as though she'd just performed a magic trick.

"Considering we're all in the same boat? Yeah, I think I've got a notion." York snorted, shaking her head. Severa was really a piece of work. The girl could obviously handle herself -- she was definitely tough -- but she had this astonishing capacity to abandon all common sense the second she got a whiff of something she didn't like.

"Not so fast, kiddo, huh? It's not goin' anywhere." York took a few healthy sips, reaching for Severa's glass. All right, if York were really a responsible adult, she probably wouldn't be giving her a refill. "Look, I'm just sayin', that imperious attitude is gonna get you nowhere fast around here. You've gotta start pickin' your fights a little more wisely."

"Blame my dad. We're lucky he isn't here or the entire bar would smell like honey." Still riding a surfboard of her own smug sense of self-satisfaction on a wave of don't care, Severa was glad to bring up the positive influence her daddy had had. Well, positive on morale. Less so on her teeth.

"You don't seem too concerned about choosing wisely," she chides, just enough levity in her voice to make it clear she's joking. "You've never seen me drink before. If I am truly so impetuous, you'll only make it worse giving me more mead." She grabs her glass quickly, defensively, in case York actually takes her seriously.

"You are an adult, and I'm not responsible for you," York says glibly, raising an eyebrow at the way Severa all but snatches the glass away from her. She takes a long sip, sucking contemplatively at her teeth. It probably is a good thing Severa's dad isn't here, because with her luck, he and York would probably get on famously.

"Consider me an example to learn from," she says after a moment, with a wicked grin that pulls at the scarred skin around her left eye. "You said your daddy taught you how to pick locks, right?"

Wait, she's being appreciated for the adult she is? That's... strange. She's never felt that way before. You know, maybe York isn't so much like Cordelia after all. The smile she's sporting gets softer, but it makes her feel vulnerable and it disappears off her face in a couple seconds.

"He did," Severa nods, once she's got her countenance the way she likes it again. "But like I said, these locks are nothing like the ones on doors and chests back home." That look on York's face, though, that's something Severa totally recognizes in herself. They're about to do something that's going to get them in trouble.

Good.

"Yeah, there've been some advancements in the tech," York said loosely in what was probably the understatement of the year. "We've still got physical locks, y'know. At least we do in my world. You just don't see 'em so much in a place like this. It's all digital security now. But the basic principle's the same." She shrugged, draining her glass and setting it down on the bar. "So, what, your dad a locksmith, or is he whatever your equivalent of an infiltrations expert is?"

"That's easy for you to say," she muttered into her glass before taking a slower drink than before. (Not that that would be hard.) "I'm not a mage. And this is all magic to me. Even my father would be perplexed." Giving some thought to her answer, she finally said, "Officially, he's a mercenary. Like me. Unofficially, he's a thief." And a damned good one at that, but it would be a shame to spoil her own ego trip by inflating someone else's.

York can't help but laugh at the mention of magic. If it were magic, Wash wouldn't believe it was real. "Yeah, I guess it might seem like magic to somebody who's never worked with computers. But it's not, really. It's all just...numbers, when you get down to it. But I work in bigger abstractions than that." She pauses, then activates her omni-tool and swipes over it a few times before she brings up what looks like the 3D schematics of a complicated-looking lock. It looks sort of like the kind you'd find on a bank vault, but an awful lot more...malleable.

"See this? This is called a holographic lock. It's based on the same kinda interface the omni-tools use, which means you can interact with it manually. Except since it's digital, that means I can interface with it, with somethin' like this. Hell, I used to have a little buddy to help me out with this sort of thing all the time."

And she can't help a fond smile thinking of Delta, a little tinged with sadness, because man, she misses the little guy sometimes. She raises an eyebrow at Severa in curiosity, drumming her fingers on the bartop. "So I've gotta ask -- what I do, would you consider me a thief, too? I mean, by your definition."

She's... okay, she's not going to touch how the lock that York just showed her looks nothing like a lock from back home, or how half the words she used to describe it didn't make a lick of sense. She just kind of nods through York's explanation, pretending she understands—because she has a reputation to uphold here, come on.

Really, the easier thing to address is that question about whether York's a thief. Severa actually looks thoughtful for a moment, trying to come up with the best answer. She's not looking for one that'll hurt York's feelings the least, but the truest.

"Have you stolen anything lately?" she asks, simply.

All right, York wasn't expecting so...literal a definition. Then again, maybe she ought to expect that sort of thing from Severa by now. She'd figured there was some sort of semantic gap there, but...maybe not.

"Uh...well, it used to be my job to steal stuff, sometimes," she says glibly, with a shrug, although the security she'd run with Joker only a few months ago comes to mind. But that's not a secret she's about to let Severa in on. "I mean, really, breaking security was my job, but taking shit usually came with the package."

"Then you're a thief," she says in a very matter-of-fact manner. "That's not a bad thing. Sometimes people need to have things stolen from them. If they got it unfairly, for example," she continues, spouting more of her daddy's rhetoric than she expected to today. "It's the people who have unfair amounts of power who think getting it taken from them is a bad thing."

She pauses to look at her glass and decides against taking another drink from it. "It's when you steal from people who don't deserve it that you get in trouble." Like from daddy. Severa tried to steal his candy once. Once.

"Your daddy teach you that too?" York says with a raised eyebrow. Suddenly, she gets an idea of what she thinks Severa's dad might have been like, back in their world. For a girl who's used to swinging around live steel, she's sure got an awful cute idea of how the world works.

"Yeah, that's one way of looking at it," she says. "How I see it, though, is this: some people are willing to pay an awful lot of money to get people to do their dirty work. Or, y'know, things they don't know to do. Sometimes those people are your government."

"Of course," she replies in that same tone, though her face looks like she thinks York is stupid. Or maybe that York thinks she's stupid. "You don't have to explain mercenary work to me, York. My daddy was a free agent until he found allegiance with Chrom, Robin, and the halidom of Ylisse."

A smile crosses her face for only an instant before she realizes it's there and covers it up with the glass. She doesn't drink; she just speaks from behind it. "He always told me he quit because saving my future was more important than making a quick payday."

York can't help a smile at that. Whoever her dad was, he sounds like he was an alright guy. He obviously cared about his kid, that's for sure.

"Definitely some wisdom to those words," York says with a wry smile, even if they're not ones she's living by at the moment. But back then, before she'd been sucked out of her own world...that'd been what she'd been working for. For her Wash, back home. She clears her throat, giving Severa a little wink. "Your daddy had the right idea. Always take the cushy government job."

Severa laughs and decides to take a drink after all. "I don't think he wanted to freelance much longer anyway. It was hard to find enough work to keep up with me. I have very expensive tastes," she adds, mostly as a joke, even if it is entirely true.

"I didn't expect you to be so similar to my dad when we first met, to be entirely honest." Perhaps that mead she quaffed has begun to loosen her tongue, if nothing else. "You seemed far closer to my mother." She doesn't bother hiding an unfortunate scowl.

"Should I be insulted?" York cocks an eyebrow, but she looks amused. She might not know anything about Severa's world, but she knows a colorful family when she sees one. She can only imagine Severa's got some stories. "What's your mom like, anyway? And how exactly did I remind you of her?"

Severa starts to speak, but stops herself—she doesn't actually want to insult York, but describing her mother as she typically would would probably be an insult. This is more delicate a situation than she's used to.

"She's perfect at everything," Severa finally decides upon, at least to begin with. "It's like she never has to work to be good at something. It feels like she's rubbing it in my face sometimes." There's a pause as she realizes that those last two sentences are totally unflattering. Meeting York's eyes, she says, "It's just the first part that you remind me of."

York raises an eyebrow, and after a moment, she can't help but laugh. "Perfect at everything, huh? I'd like to know where you got that impression."

She doesn't look offended, just surprised. She gives Severa a lopsided smile. "Sounds a little like someone I used to know, actually. But nah, that's not me. Kid, I make plenty of mistakes, trust me."

Severa holds back a derisive kind of laugh as she goes back to avoiding York's eyes. That's the exact kind of thing her mother would have said to try to assuage Severa's budding inferiority complex. Just because one person says they make mistakes doesn't mean they actually do, and it certainly doesn't mean their mistakes come with the same kind of consequences as one's own.

"You fell into place here as though you were cut from the same cloth," she says, deciding to tell York just where she got that impression. "It doesn't seem like you've ever had to struggle to fit in around here. Even the concept of alien species doesn't faze you anymore, does it?"

Perhaps Severa gets honest when she gets drunk. It's harder to keep walls up that way. She thinks through a sentence about how if York weren't so personable, she'd be worse than Cordelia, but doesn't actually say it out loud.

York's used to this universe dumping thing and the fact that it tends to take all kinds -- she knows the places that she's been stuck in haven't been too far of a cry from her own universe, and that others have come from universes far more radically different. But she's never seen anyone struggle with it quite like Severa does.

"Hey, the reason I didn't have to get used to the aliens is 'cause I was already intimately familiar with the idea," she says, reaching to put her hand on Severa's shoulder. "Granted, back home they were makin' war on us, so you bet it took me a while to get my head around that. But also consider that I've been doin' this a long time. Before I got here, I spent eight months in another place a whole hell of a lot like it. I haven't been home in over a year, Severa. I've had time to get used to some of the weirder shit I've seen."

She sighs a little, knowing that it's Severa's weird placing her on a pedestal that's making it harder for her to connect. "Look, you can believe me or don't, but trust me kiddo, I've made plenty of my own mistakes. I've made mistakes that cost me a lot -- that cost others even more. Hell, you don't believe me, just look at my face. That was 'cause I made a mistake, and it wasn't even the first time."

"You got that injury from a mistake?" Severa repeats, almost incredulous. Considering her frame of reference for eyepatches, it's hard to believe something like that could have come from anything other than a deliberate action. "I had assumed you had been in a battle. I knew one other person, back home, with a patch much like yours. He was one of the strongest warriors Ylisse could have had on its side."

For a moment, she's quiet again. She fills it with a drink, slow and careful, and then speaks her most recent realization. "Constantly comparing life here to life in the halidom isn't going to get me anywhere, is it?" It's a rhetorical question, but it's damned hard to give up a frame of reference just like that. Especially when she has no idea if she'll ever be able to return home. That realization shows on her face in the furrow of her brow.

"Just 'cause it happened in a fight doesn't make it less of a mistake," York says, but when she sees the look dawning on Severa's face, she lets it drop. She thinks the kid's gotten the point, now. Or...at least arrived to it on her own terms. It's probably better that way. It's better to trust yourself.

"Not really," she admits. "I know it's hard, kiddo. Trust me, it took me awhile to get there. There were things about my own world, things that weren't the same when I left, that I spent too long clinging to. It just made it harder. This place...you've just gotta take it for what it is."

Edited 2013-08-14 01:44 (UTC)

Easy for York to say. "What this place is," Severa starts, "is entirely unfamiliar in all the strangest ways." She's been known to adapt, certainly, but there's a difference between asking something to adapt to a new environment and violently uprooting it and forcing it to grow into dry, cracked ground.

Gods, she'd been talking to Donnel too much again.

"If nothing else, I suppose I'm no longer alone here," she says, not louder than she needs to. She has a friend and confidante in York, and the other people she's met—at least, those who've not tried to kill her—seem approachable enough. She raises the nearly-empty glass to her mouth, and then a little higher, so the glass distorts her features. It's far easier to hide a smile that way, though still not entirely perfect.

Nice try hiding that smile, Severa, but York's got nieces and nephews and Severa's not much good at hiding things anyway. York grins at her fondly, shaking her head. For better or worse, she's glad she's here, and not still on Sacrosanct. At least here she can do some good, some of the time.

"Kiddo, so long as I'm here, you're never gonna be alone," she tells Severa, reaching over to tousle Severa's hair affectionately. Odds are Severa hates it at least as much as Marco does, but hey, that's part of what makes it so cute. "You don't hesitate to ask me if you need somethin', you got that? I mean it."

Severa wants to grimace and grumble, but the mead has begun affecting her too much for her to protest as vocally as usual. She'll settle for a snarky comment running at half power. "Can I ask you to never mess up my hair again?" It's not all that messed up and she doesn't care enough to straighten it, but that's not the point. It gets her to smile even more.

The smile remains even through her next statement. "That puts you another rank above my mother," she says, though she knows in the back of her head that it isn't true. If anything, Severa was the one who abandoned Cordelia and Gaius. If she'd been a better fighter, she might not have had to travel back in time in the first place. Just assuming that York knows what she's talking about, Severa doesn't clarify.

"You got it, kiddo," York laughs, withdrawing her hand from Severa's hand, but it's an unintentionally empty promise. It's just as likely that the next time York's struck with the urge to give her a noogie, she'll forget she promised not to in the first place.

It's easy to tell that Severa's got some reservations about family, or at least hers in particular. York gets on well with her own family, sure -- or at least, she did back in her world -- but she'd had her rough spots with them. Joining the military hadn't sat well with her dad for a long time. "Was she not around much, back home?"

All well and good; Severa doesn't stand much of a chance of remembering any part of this evening with the way she's been pounding mead.

"She was around, but she was always practicing. Trying to get better, as though you could build on perfection." Her eyes half-close as she conspicuously grimaces. "This isn't really the kind of conversation I want to have. I need to stop bringing up my family." Her better judgment is telling her she shouldn't go for a third glass of this sweet ambrosia, but her emotions are fighting back. "I'm drinking; it should be a time of celebration, not depression."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

god forbid i would show some understanding

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oops sorry about that tense shift there

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i really cant handle how cute severa is uGH

it's only because of her awesome space aunt

god theyre SO CUTE TOGETHER I CANT HANDLE IT

BEST SPACE FAMBLY

I WANT THEM TO FALL ASLEEP ON THE COUCH TOGETHER WATCHING TV OR SOMETHING EQUALLY CUTE

NO BABS NOOO

I WANT THEM TO HAVE A HEARTFELT FEELINGSY CONVERSATION AT SOME POINT OKAY

PFF SEVERA DOESN'T HAVE FEELINGS SHE HAS MUSCLES

YET

GO AHEAD PUNK MAKE HER FEEL

TOO LATE YOU ALREADY MADE ME FEEL JESUS CHRIST THAT'S UNFAIRLY CUTE

I LITERALLY DID NOTHING SHUT UP ps cmere for hugs

i love u bro youre the best

say that to a mirror so you're saying it to yourself

ITS A TWO WAY MIRROR SUCKER

YOU ARE A FILTHY PEEPING TOM

I'M NOT WRONG, SOCIETY IS WRONG

SCREW SOCIETY LET'S GO OUT FOR FROSTY CHOCOLATE MILKSHAoh by the way

YOU FUCKER

8))))

Re: 8))))

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