Seeking Redemption

[Emily Makerith]

Emily was... freaking out.

She had no idea what to do for this specific meeting, and so had bought ice cream, beer, liquor, chips, dips, popcorn, cheesecake and had three different take-out places in her mind for "actual" food.

It would all be eaten eventually, but that was the moment she realised she couldn't imagine Brigit having a sweet tooth.

She has blankets and has actually tidied away (by which she means hoofed everything into her bedroom). The rooms are almosts suspiciously empty of empty bottles and cigarette paraphinalia. A pair of scented candles light merily on the coffee table.

They weren't helping.

Emily knocked back her fourth bourbon and checked the clock for the seventh time in the last minute.

Brigit would be here soon.

Stray

[Brigit]

Brigit arrives, the rumbling of her Defender announcing her arrival as she arrives in a vacant spot in front of the garage. However, Brigit's exit from the vehicle was not immediate and the quiet hum of her vehicle sounded in the night for several minutes as the Impure gazed upon the upper level as she finds the courage - or the want - to get out of the vehicle.

Eventually, the call of her Defender dies and Brigit finally exits. She heads upstairs and knocks upon the door. To be fair, Brigit looks like shit. She hasn't showered. She is still wearing those same clothes she wore when she was exiled and the smell can tell any Uratha worth their salt that this isn't a coincidence. Her manner is catatonic and the redness around her eyes speak plainly to not having slept well.

But she's here.

If nothing else, there's that.

[Emily Makerith]

The rumbling sounds herald Brigit's arrival. Emily jumps up, catching herself on the table and swearing loudly. "FUCK!" she snarls, hopping over to the door.

Through the glass, it's clear the blue shape hesitates before opening to door. When she does, Emily looks... nervous, but obviously much better than Brigit does. She's wearing pajama pants and an old AC/DC top.

"Umm... Hey." She opens the door "Come on in. Can I get you anything? Beer? Vodka? Ice cream? Umm... something... else?" The Crescent is clearly a bit lost.

[Brigit]

Brigit doesn't respond immediately, but meets Emily's eyes for a moment before casting them to the floor. Nonetheless, she does enter when invited and makes her way inside, slowly reaching the living room and vacantly surveying the oddly clean apartment.

"Just water is fine," she said, her tone meek and shamed, "May I sit?"

My bad! I've been busy getting things situated here due to COVID stuff and reduced hours! I'm back. Emily Makerith Xadun

[Emily Makerith]

Emily nods, sniffing slightly at the odour from the clearly crumpled Blood Talon.

She shuffles into the kitchen and comes back with a pint-glass of water and a two-thirds full bottle of bourbon, that she unscrews and takes a swig from.

"Are you... okay?" She asks stiltedly. It was a dumb question, but the Crescent had no idea how to start.

She stands awkwardly in her own living room, bottle in one hand and the other wrapping around her torso.

No worries Stray! Everything is a bit bat-shit right now!

[Brigit]

Brigit takes the water, drinking from it before holding the glass in her hands idly.

She didn't shrink from Emily's hug, but there was a momentary flinch before she let her body relax.

Hanging her head low, she simply shook her head at the question, but her gaze remained on the floor.

"He wasn't the first," she said, "The kid I mean."

[Emily Makerith]

"Yeah. I kinda figured." An angry hurt creeps unbidden, into Emily's voice. She winces noticeably, and takes another swig from the bottle.

"Sit down. Please?" Her tone is apologetic.

Once seated, Emily stays standing, and wraps her free arm around herself.

"I never realised how different it made you until then. You get that, right?" the punk says softly. There are tears in her eyes, and she drinks from the bottle again in what is clearly a familiar, well-practiced motion.

[Brigit]

Brigit slumps unto the couch as Emily instructs.

"Mhmm," she utters in response to Emily's question. How could she have known? Despite all her knowledge, Emily had never been Anshega. Maybe now she understood why Brigit felt her stains were so deep.

"I don't think I could have expected you to know," Brigit said, raising her head so that her tired, saddened expression met with Emily's hurt gaze "You understand now? Why I said all that stuff about not being as worthy to Mother Luna?"

Dark eyes searched the Ithaeur's hurt expression for several long moments, before shifting back to the ground.

"At least now the pack understands it's true," she said.

[Emily Makerith]

Emily squirms. "I guess? But you never will be if you do stuff like that. That's the whole point. That we can be better. That Fenris-Ur believes you can be better."

She pulls a shoebox out from the dressed, and throws a hand-made pouch gently at her. "There. Decay Dust. Keep it. It wears out in about a month, so you'd better be back here so I can give you another one."

Another swig is taken from the bottle, and the Ithaeur starts pacing.

"Leaving aside how you can eat a whole guy and still be skinny as a rail, breaking the Oath of the Moon isn't the end-all of everything, or every time we killed a Pure we'd be fucked. And you're going to get back into the pack. I'm not letting you give up, because I'm not giving up on you." Emily's voice takes on a kind of fervour, punctuated with another pull on her bottle.

"So get that crap off," she gestures vaguely at all Brigit's clothes then jabs an arm towards the bathroom, "go take a shower, and I'll find something that fits you. And then you're having a drink."

She scowls, arms crossed and bottle in one hand.

Emily's Virtue is Hope! I don't get to show it off much!

[Brigit]

Brigit nabs the bag, only nodding as Emily tells her to return for more.

Then came the Crescent's fervour, the conviction within her tone causing Brigit to meet her eyes again. The Impure looks almost touched by Emily's words, even if her general expression remains forlorn.

"Alright," Brigit says, managing to utter the word as she rises.

Going to the bathroom, Brigit did as she was told. She stripped and began to bathe. The shower was longer than normal, but who could blame her? She was filthy.