Wynonna Earp (
pacificator) wrote in
singillatim2024-05-02 08:09 pm
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to cold climes comes springtime — open & closed
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.
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
no subject
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.
no subject
[ 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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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?
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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!
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. ]