to cold climes comes springtime — open & closed

[pacificator]

Who: Wynonna Earp & others
What: May–June catchall
When: May through June
Where: Milton, Lakeside

Content Warnings: Usual Wynonna warnings including themes of alcohol & violence; others marked as needed.

open & closed starters posted here throughout May & June! pwm @ repeatandfade

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[pacificator]

[ She hasn't seen Kate since she appeared on the doorstep of that vacation cabin to give the girl the tape she'd found, and that whole... interaction had gone south with a speed that astonished even her. Kate had scolded her then, too, and just like then, the surprise of it leaves Wynonna blinking and uncertain, her hands loose as Kate snatches the pot away from her. ]

I never said it was a great idea—

[ It was a bad idea, but also the best idea and there's no way to explain any of that without Kate thinking she's exactly as crazy as all those doctors and teachers and the sanctimonious assholes of Purgatory said she is. But Kate's voice is shaking and tugged tight and that makes Wynonna wince, as much as leaning her sore body against the edge of the counter does. ]

It's not— I give myself breaks!

[castitas]

[ Kate gives herself a moment, her throat tight. She busies herself with sorting out the pot — getting water on to boil because if Wynonna wants coffee then fine she can help with that, at least. ]

Sure, your cute little street brawl was an absolute party. [ It's carefully held down anger; she tries so hard not to lose her temper. But there's a little venom there — disapproval is still disapproval. She huffs, biting down on her lower lip for a moment. ] Have you seen Lieutenant Little's face? His thanks for trying to stop you guys.

[ Oh, she's upset about that. Because this place is Hell enough without brawls in the middle of the street. She's not stupid: what's to say it wouldn't end up going so horribly wrong? What if someone gets hurt enough and no one can fix it?

And Lieutenant Little, bless him. He tries so hard and he's decent and kind and good and he got knocked out for his troubles. Even though he's doing better than when they first got here — the man has lead poisoning. ]

See, that's the thing. [ Her point, she's getting to it. ] We can't afford it, Wynonna. You can't afford it.

[pacificator]

[ She's pushing off the counter in the next heartbeat, ignoring the way her whole body yelps in pain. Her face whitens, but she pushes through it, her own temper rising. ]

You're putting his choices on me, now, too? I told him to stay out of it. He had no business getting involved.

[ But of course it's her fault, it's always her fault, everything bad that happens to every good person around her is her fault and always has been. Kate's the one speaking, but Gus is the one she's hearing: I love you, Wynonna, but you're as broken as they come... Waverly has worked so hard just to get out from under your shadow. And Little—

She hadn't been able to get between him and Logan fast enough. She can still feel the cold seeping through the knees of her jeans when she dropped there next to him, trying to get him to look at her. If March hadn't run in at that exact moment, what would she have done to Logan in her blind rage? ] I tried to stop him getting hurt!

[ Her own voice is lifting, half at the memory of Little getting hit and hurt and how she couldn't stop it and half at, yeah, the guilt she's been carrying around about it, even knowing he'd have tried to stop that fight even if she hadn't been there. She snorts out a breath and shakes her head, jaw tightening, before her expression shutters... almost completely. There's a bare, raw look in her eyes she can't quite bury completely. ]

But who'd believe that, right? There's only one fuck-up here, and it's me. It's always me. So, sure. He's a grown man who made his own call to try and stop a fight that was way out of his league, but yeah, it was probably my fault.

[castitas]

Don't you dare blame him for the fact he feels responsible for us. Like it's stupid because he actually cares enough to get involved. [ Kate's expression shifts into a harsh frown, but she's still a little incredulous. She knows fine well Wynonna knows who Edward Little is, what kind of man he is. Of course he'd get involved because that's what he'd do every time — he might be far away from HMS Terror, but he wears that duty of responsibility like it's another layer over his greatcoat.

And even if she tried to fix it, tried to stop Lieutenant Little from getting hurt — the whole thing could have been avoided if there hadn't been a fight in the first place. ]

Your actions have consequences, Wynonna. For more people than you think. I just feel like you don't even think about that sometimes. [ There's a little tremble to her. Speaking her mind is hard, voicing her opinion — she promised Mr Heartman she wouldn't be sorry for speaking her mind. This is really hard, and kind of scary. And she kind of wants to throw up a little bit. But she has to say it.

But who'd believe that, right? There's only one fuck-up here, and it's me. It's always me. So, sure.

Kate stares at that. It says a lot. It really does. ]

You're not a— [ Yeah, no. She's not saying that word. ] that. But I feel like you're settling for it. Instead of scrambling to fix it, can't you give yourself a chance to think about how to do better? You're worth more than being just the screw-up.

[pacificator]

But it's okay to blame me?

[ She stares at Kate, her jaw working, and— fine, it's one thing for her to know that Little's a better person than she is, that when she tries to do the right thing it only falls to pieces in her hands, but he has the uniform, he has the rank and the respect, and she knows Kate hero-worships the guy, but it's bitter. Chasing over her tongue, sour in her head and chest, because no matter what she tries, here or at home, it's never enough, and she'll never be as good as him. So why the hell should it matter if she gets in a fight instead? ]

Stop putting words in my mouth. I never said that. I would never say that, he's—

[ But she chokes on it, like someone's gagging her, because absolutely none of what she feels and thinks about Edward Little feels safe to say, it's all too complicated and knotted up and personal, and then Kate says your actions have consequences and for a second her mind goes blank and the only thing she can hear is six year old Waverly screaming Daddy in the horrible silence after Peacemaker went off.

Her face goes white, like Kate slapped her, and when she finally does find her voice again, it's low and dangerously quiet. ]

You have no idea of the consequences to my actions I've had to live with. What I've done to my family, the shit I live with every single day. And you stand here and tell me I haven't tried to fix it? It's all I've tried to do, for months! And guess what, it's not fixed, and it never will be, and everything I try to fix here I just break, like always, so tell me, Kate, what exactly the hell am I supposed to do?

[ Her own breath is shaky; she's holding herself ruthlessly tight, every muscle in her body tense and painful. ]

You say that because you want to believe I'm worth more than that, so let me straighten it out for you: I will always disappoint you. It's what I do best. You may as well get used to it now.

[castitas]

I blame the other guys, too! But you should know better. [ Wynonna's been here for months. She's lived in all of this mess for months. She should know why it's not a great idea to start having public brawls in this place, and it's so frustrating to Kate that she doesn't get it. Those other two? Kate doesn't know them — she figures they're new here.

You have no idea of the consequences to my actions I've had to live with. What I've done to my family, the shit I live with every single day. It hurts in two ways. The first is a quiet horror, filled with questions. Kate doesn't know everything that's happened to Wynonna, to her life. But she's heard... some pieces. She knows about Willa. Willa was killed. And there's a strange, awful feeling — was it something to do with Willa?

The second way it hurts is in a more familiar way. She chose to go to the Vortex Club Party. She wanted to try and make friends; never the most popular kid when you're the daughter of a pastor and running a religious study group and running an abstinence campaign. She lives with those consequences now, and sometimes it feels like she can never go home. Sometimes it feels there's no point because her life's ruined now. She hurt her family, brought so much shame on them.

Sometimes being here is a blessing — removed from her home, her life. And it feels like such a horrible thing to think. People care about her here, people believe in her, know her for who she really is — not what she did drugged up on spiked wine on a viral video. She gets it, though. It still follows her. It follows Wynonna, too. ]

This isn't home, Wynonna. [ Her expression softens, eyes glossy. She's... so frustrated with her but she's— she's sad for her. ] You... you can't pretend that it is. Like.. like acting in the same way works.

[ She doesn't have answers, she doesn't know what's the right thing to say. How it's best to counsel. She wishes she did. She prays for that wisdom. She's quiet for a long time, wringing her hands. ]

Eighteen. [ Her voice is small, and her lips press to a thin line. She doesn't look at Wynonna for a long moment. ] That's how many of us have died since we first started coming here. That's... the ones we know about. I... I— don't want you to be another one.

[ But Wynonna's holding herself so tight, like she might snap if she keeps doing that to herself. Kate finally looks up again, her eyes still shining. You say that because you want to believe I'm worth more than that, so let me straighten it out for you: I will always disappoint you. It's what I do best. You may as well get used to it now. Kate shakes her head. ]

No. [ Her throat feels tight, and she still feels like she might throw up. And... honestly this whole thing terrifies her — her hands twisting themselves tighter. But, no. She's wrong. And when she inhales, it feels like she's clamouring for air. No, maybe not snap, Kate thinks. Shatter.

She steps forwards, and her knees feel weak with the movement. But she closes the gap between them, wrapping her arms around the woman and pulling her into the hug. ]

I... I don't say it just because I believe it. I say it because I know it.

[pacificator]

[ She reaches up to rub at her forehead, frustrated and guilty and annoyed with herself for feeling guilty: it's not her fault, no matter how much Kate wants to set the blame on her shoulder. ]

Maybe I do know better. And maybe you don't know as much about that fight as you think you do.

[ Of course she's upset that Little got hurt; of course she thinks Wynonna's to blame for it, and, yeah — it's not so cut and dried as Wynonna might want to think, either. She remembers the deep feeling of relief that swept through her when fists started flying and she was there, solidly in her body, being asked only to react to violence, a thing she knows as well as breathing.

But how could Kate understand? She's not sure even March would; but Mal does. Logan does, she thinks. She doesn't harbor any resentment toward either of them; they did her a favor. Sometimes, what she really needs isn't just to hit something; it's to get hit back.

So when Kate takes that last step forward, the last thing Wynonna expects is what happens: she almost flinches away right before the girl's arms slip around her and Kate's pressing against her in a hug that feels like absolution. It hurts — she very recently had a two hundred plus pound man fall on her and everything hurts, but the soreness goes deeper than bruised skin and torn muscle. Her breath comes quick, her eyes sting; she swallows, hard, before she carefully curls her left arm around the younger girl.

Kate's a few inches shorter than her; Wynonna can press her cheek against dark gold hair as she lets out a shaky breath. No part of her is relaxing into this embrace, but she's— not letting go, either. ]

I'm sorry I made you worry.

[ That's... the crux of this, right? It was there in Kate's brave, wavering voice: That's how many of us have died... I don't want you to be another one.

The rest of it— she can't look at, right now. Has to set aside for a minute, because this is important: ]

I'm not dying here. If I die, it all falls on Waverly. I won't let that happen.

[castitas]

[ She's as careful as she can be, and like— obviously, given Wynonna's current state. Kate might not be able to really see how she's been injured with the fight. But there's no hiding the pain from it. And if a man was able to knock a grown man with a single punch then— yikes.

Still, she hugs like she means it. Which she does, one hand gently petting Wynonna's back. Like how she wishes someone could have just hugged her, back home. Like how she hugged her sisters, the last time she saw ever them. ]

I forgive you.

[ And she means it, of course she does. She's hurt by it all. She's frustrated and upset — with Ruby getting shot, with Lieutenant Little getting knocked out, with Wynonna making these choices. And she's worried that Wynonna's going to get herself killed and then— well, what a waste. What a waste of someone so special.

But Wynonna's sorry. And of course Kate forgives her. ]

I just... I want better for you, Wynonna. [ Wynonna has her ways. The blasé too-cool, not super serious vibe. Kate's seen it. But Kate's seen the other parts of Wynonna too. She's brave and good. There's the secret soft center to her, of a girl who was once called 'Nona'. ] And.. I know this place sucks, but I know in some ways it can be better for people.

[ She doesn't understand, though. If I die, it all falls on Waverly. Kate frowns. She wants to ask, she's not sure if she should. ]

Then you've gotta work on keeping yourself in one piece to get back to her, right?

[pacificator]

[ Kate hugs her gently, which she appreciates, and is mindful of her re-injured right arm — which is thoughtful. She says I forgive you and Wynonna thinks it might actually be enough for ol' Augie Hamilton, him and his shadowed mirrors, his ice-cold razor blade. She still has a scar from where he'd nicked her throat, when Waverly said I forgive and he said not in her heart.

Forgiveness isn't a thing she's seeking; not here, not at home. She wonders whether even Kate might be able to stretch that Christian faith of hers to cover Wynonna's worst sins, if she'd still be here embracing Wynonna if she knew about Daddy. Willa. Shorty. If she knew the anger that burns at the core of the woman she's hugging, would she stay, or would she run for cover? ]

Yeah.

[ That's the crux of it, right there: she's got to do it for Waverly. She has to live for Waverly, so Waverly doesn't get saddled with the curse and start the cycle all over again. ]

I don't have a death wish, Kate. That's not what any of this is.

[castitas]

[ She says she doesn't have a death wish, that all of this isn't that. Kate's not exactly sure what to make of that because, well— walking headfirst into danger and getting into fights with strangers when said strangers could probably kill you? Yeah. Kinda sounds a bit like a death wish.

But, she guesses, perspectives. Wynonna Earp's a whole lot different to Kate Marsh.

Kate pulls away a little, gently braces by the shoulders — still careful to avoid where she's been shot. ]

Well, no offense but.. you're not exactly great at proving it. [ There's a little pause. ] You're weird, Wynona.

[ She means that with the greatest amount of affection, a small smile at her lips. That's just... Wynonna, isn't it? She's weird. Not crazy, just kinda weird. ]

You think maybe you can like... sit down for five minutes and just chill out? I'll make you your coffee.

[pacificator]

[ She huffs a breath, sore and amused in equal parts, and lifts her eyebrows, pressing her lips as she loosens her arm and lets Kate pull back. ]

So I hear.

[ Weird was one that got tossed around a lot, although not as much as crazy, but Kate isn't saying it the way the other kids in Purgatory said it, the way the people there still say it, like it's something catching, something contagious. She says it like it's a faintly exasperating quality in a person she... likes, and it's all still so strange, but standing here, getting scolded and then bossed around by a girl still in high school, Wynonna has to admit: it's nice.

Kate isn't Waverly. No one could ever be Waverly. But she's Kate, and as different as they are, she's someone it would be... it would suck to lose. And for however tenuous and uncertain the connection there between them is, it's also something Wynonna finds herself holding onto with an iron grip. Kate, and Tommy, and Ruby, and March... and Little... they're the people who make this place bearable. ]

You know, I have a boss already, and you are way less scary than him.

[ Said with exaggerated exasperation; she's teasing. And maybe Kate's right... maybe it wouldn't hurt to slow down, just for a little while. ]

Fine. Five minutes.

[ Or maybe... a little longer. ]

aaand wrap!

[castitas]

Well, bosses don't need to be scary to do a job properly. [ Yes, she is putting her foot down. But gently. And there's the tiniest of smiles at her lips, a mix of pride and humour at the win — Wynonna chilling out for five minutes.

It... actually feels nice to get listened to. Especially by an actual adult. ]

Great! Okay, coffee coming up. Now, Sit. Please. [ Not forgetting the 'please'. There's a gentle shooing away of the woman towards a seat. ]

And... let's see if we maybe have some cookies stashed away somewhere.

[ Sometimes you need cookies to kind of... have as an additional peace offering. Cookies make everything better. ]