Roots [Szabina]

[Every]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Every> text: Hey Bina, how are you?

<Szabina> [t] I am well. What do you require?

<Every> [text] I don't require anything. I was just saying hello.

<Szabina> [text] That is considerate of you. Hello.

<Every> [text] What are you up to?

<Szabina> [text] I am playing with a potted plant.

<Every> [text] You garden?

<Szabina> [text] The plant is dead.

<Every> [text] Why are you playing with a dead potted plant?

<Szabina> [text] It was left on the curb as trash and I thought the pot was pretty, so I brought it home.

<Every> [text] Are you going to replace the dead plant with a live one?

<Szabina> [text] No. I wish to revive this one.

<Every> [text] Would you like me to pick up fertilizer for you?

<Szabina> [text] I do not believe I require fertilizer

<Every> [text] Alright then.

<Szabina> [text] Would you like to come see my plant?

<Every> [text] I think I would, if I wouldn't be imposing.

<Szabina> [text] You would not be imposing.

<Every> [text] Then sure, I'd like to come see your plant, Szabina.

<Szabina> [text] I believe you know where I am

<Every> [text] I'll be there in a few minutes.

<Szabina> [text] Okay

<Every> Every made her way quietly, adjusting the bandage around her wounds as she went, ignoring the strange looks about the one around her neck. Adjusting her hold on a bag over her shoulder as she reached the door, she knocked three times to be polite, adjusting her weight from one foot to another.

<Szabina> Bina sat on the couch, watching the pot of her new plant with steely determination. The thing was wilted beyond repair, obviously dead and not salvageable, but she would try anyway. When the knock came, she didn't bother answering; it wasn't her home, it was Micah's. If it was Every, she'd come in on her own. If it wasn't, they would eventually leave.

<Every> After a moment or two, she let herself in after digging around for her keys, wincing a bit before shutting the door. "You know, there are other places to rest. The apartment, the crypt..." She trailed off as she removed her bag from her shoulder and wandered over to the couch. "But I'm glad that you're comfortable to find a place owned by someone in our family to rest."

<Szabina> "I was not aware of there being other places," she admitted as she reached up to push back the hood of her black robe. As always, her lips were a bright purple. "This is my plant," she waved a hand, indicating the withered stalk sitting in the ornate green pot she'd collected.

<Every> "I brought you to my apartment when you were first turned." She explained before moving to sit beside her, "It's 803 West Towers... and I can always purchase another at some point if you'd like." She rubbed the back of her head as she leaned forward to study the plant carefully. "The pot is pretty."

<Szabina> "Well, yes, but you and I have not been... speaking... so I did not think I was welcome there. I did have my own place... but I don't anymore." She shrugged; it didn't seem important to her, especially considering that she did have another place to stay. "It is pretty, but I do not think Micah will want to keep the plant here... it does not fit with the decor." And it was dead, which she didn't point out.

<Every> "Even if we do not speak, you are always welcome in my apartment, Bina. That's why I purchased it; for my childer and myself. A... safe place to rest." She paused, considering it while she tucked her hand over one ear before she frowned a bit. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

<Szabina> She considered the words and nodded, but didn't reply verbally. "As I said, I had my own place, and will get one to myself again, maybe soon." After a moment, she reached over and stroked the shrivelled, brittle leaves of the plant. "Maybe he'll like it better when it's alive again."

<Every> She nodded and pursed her lips idly as she considered the dead plant in front of her. Every used to garden, one of her places had plants all around it. "Maybe. Do you know what it is?" She asked.

<Szabina> It was a reasonable question, but she wasn't a horticulturalist by any means. No, to her, it just seemed to be a plant of very little import. Something with leaves and maybe flowers, ages ago. "It is a plant," she informed Eve, voice completely deadpan. "It is a dead plant. Maybe you will tell me when it... feels better."

<Every> "I meant the specific species of plant so you'd know if it was dead entirely. Some plants are a little tricky." She moved to sit on the floor, leaning forward to study it. After a moment, she pursed her lips and carefully got up.

[Szabina]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Szabina> "Hm..." With a quizzical glance to the plant, she reached out and lifted one of the leaves to examine it, only to have the fragile thing crumble between her fingers. The next one she tried to examine fared no better. Not that she'd expect much more from the look of the parched soil in which it sat. "You don't think it's... entirely dead? It seems entirely dead to me."

<Every> "In this city, I've learned that not everything stays dead." She extended her fangs for a moment, making a silent point as she scratched at the canine with her nail before letting it retract once more. "I've died three times. The day Micah stopped my heartbeat and cracked my skull, the day I asked them to kill me for a bounty I couldn't work down, and the day that a man broke into my apartment and slaughtered me." She studied it for a moment longer.

<Szabina> "Neither humans, nor vampires are plants - they live differently and die differently, and experience what life they do have differently. I do not see what your multiple deaths have to do with a common house plant."

<Every> "I think you're a little too close minded for some things in this place, Bina. Yes, it's a dead plant. But, where lives end. New ones begin. You never know if it had dropped seeds into the soil." She pressed her lips together lightly, "Maybe I'm wrong and it's entirely dead, but you seem intent on reviving it."

<Szabina> "Or maybe it is entirely dead and I'll revive it anyway," she offered with a cocked brow and a tip of her head. "You have powers, yes? Perhaps I may develop some of my own." The truth was, the plant had seemed far less lively when she'd first acquired it. She'd planned to drop it off in the nearest dumpster and keep the pot, but something told her to hold onto it.

<Every> "I have powers and curses, a few of which I don't understand, but am thankful for." She motioned at her complexion, still pale, but otherwise healthy looking. "There are many things that we can pick up over time." She shrugged her shoulders, "As I've said, nothing in this place seems dead for long."

<Szabina> "We shall see, then, what love and care does for a dead plant." With a curt nod, she sat back and simply stared at the leaves. "And if not, I'll have a pot to plant something else in."

<Every> "I'm sure you'll be able to revive it, like you said, we all have certain abilities. If not, I might know someone that can." She smiled, sitting on the arm of the couch, "And that's always a positive."

<Szabina> Her head cocked to the side as she watched her sire. "I need not false reassurances, Every. It will live again or it will not; I can try, but trying does not guarantee success. What will be, will be, and there is nothing I can do to make happen something that was not meant to be. Positivity and negativity have nothing to do with it."

<Every> "Oddly enough they aren't false, when I say something I mean it." She lifted and dropped her shoulders, "If it happens, it happens. If it doesn't, as you said, you'd find another and make more." She crossed her legs idly, pulling her hair over her shoulder and adjusting the necklace she wore. "Life has a balance and it always influences the outcome."

<Szabina> The corner of her lip twitched upward into a thin smile that only served to hide her annoyance. "I only meant that well wishes serve no purpose in these matters."

<Every> "You may feel that way, but I feel the opposite. Our opinions are our own, but are valid in their own way." She smiled, giving a slight inclination of her head.

<Szabina> "God decides the outcome of supernatural matters," she stated flatly, "and no mortal wishes will change the course of fate when it comes to chance." After a moment of silence, she frowned. "I do not wish to discuss philosophy with you."

<Every> "I lost my faith in God when he allowed a bitter old drunk to murder my father and take my brother away from me, Szabina." She replied, watching her quietly and carefully, "And, for the record, I believe we're considered immortal, which would mean the wishes are no longer tied elsewhere." Removing her jacket, Every got up to collect a first aid kit she kept in the bedroom.

<Szabina> She was not in the mood to deal with this, not in the least. For the first time in months, her mood was truly deteriorating to the point where she worried that she would snap. Her jaw clenched, biting down angry words. Instead of snapping at her sire, Szabina chose to push herself to her feet and walk out the door in silence, without looking back.

<Every> Every returned after a little while, her bandage replaced and as she took in the empty toom, she gave a shake of her head before collecting her tome, returning to go find where she had left her weapons to go out.