1445/Good Clean Fun

Good Clean Fun
Date of Scene:	11 July 2017
Location:	Streets of Metropolis
Synopsis:	Sarah and Priscilla head off together to complete their date, now that they're done at the gym. A continuation of Second Date.
Cast of Characters:	Voodoo, Rainmaker

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Voodoo has posed:
The ladies have had their fun at the gym, including a sparring session, some dancing practice, and some nice long showers. Finally all cleaned up, sparkling and slightly damp, Priscilla has gathered Sarah by the simple expedient of holding her hand - awww, isn't that sweet? - and leading her out of the gymnasium entrance onto the streets. "Seeya, Christie. Don't worry, I'll call Danica later. One lovely awesome lady at a time, though." she offers to the blonde aerobics instructor watching the front.

Out on the street, Priss doesn't head for her bike but instead turns herself and Sarah in the opposite direction, heading down the street to the light and waiting for the all clear to trot across - obeying even the crosswalk signals - to the other side of the street. Then she heads them down the intersecting street, hand in hand. "So, you said that you and your friends are looking for a better place? How are your finances? What could you comfortably afford, between the lot of you?" she inquires.

Voodoo has posed:
The ladies have had their fun at the gym, including a sparring session, some dancing practice, and some nice long showers. Finally all cleaned up, sparkling and slightly damp, Priscilla has gathered Sarah by the simple expedient of holding her hand - awww, isn't that sweet? - and leading her out of the gymnasium entrance onto the streets. "Seeya, Christie. Don't worry, I'll call Danica later. One lovely awesome lady at a time, though." she offers to the blonde aerobics instructor watching the front.

Out on the street, Priss doesn't head for her bike but instead turns herself and Sarah in the opposite direction, heading down the street to the light and waiting for the all clear to trot across - obeying even the crosswalk signals - to the other side of the street. Then she heads them down the intersecting street, hand in hand. "So, you said that you and your friends are looking for a better place? How are your finances? What could you comfortably afford, between the lot of you?" she inquires.

Rainmaker has posed:
    Sarah rather bemusedly allows herself to be led along, her fingers curling over the other woman's as she walks with her. After the stretching, exercise, and a nice long shower, she's quite relaxed, her long black hair still a bit damp behind her, though she's let it fall loose so it can more easily dry in the air.

    At the question she looks thoughful, then admits. "We don't have a lot, honestly. We've sort of pooled what we have, but we've had a hard time finding jobs here." Lack of the ability to use a social security number for one. "...and we don't have local ID, so that limits what we can do." And can't use her actual ID. See previous reason. "Right now we're looking for room, and maybe location, over it having to be hugely nice. At least until we can get on our feet." Her free hand comes up as she idly tucks a few errant strands of her raven hair over her ears. She's changed into a much more relaxed, or at least less stylish outfit than she normally wears, having gone the t-shirt/cut-offs route.

Voodoo has posed:
Priss is similarly 'relaxed', although for her this kind of casual outfit is a lot more common. She can and does dress up or dress to impress quite a lot, but there are times when she's out and about and she'd rather be //less// noticed. Today's post-workout outfit is one of those.

"Sure. Makes sense. So, one of the things I'd bring to the table would be a more steadily refilling cash stream." Priss is not rich by any means, but she is employed, and she has income. It's not all a steady paycheck, but she makes tips hand over fist, and she's not hurt for money. She tends to live in less than the nicest places because that's what she's used to, more than anything else. Besides, why waste money on living in a nice place that she can instead spend on things like ... emergencies.

Like high-end weapons for fighting alien murderers.

"Were you hoping for more of a 'house' thing? Or a multi-room deal in a hotel or boarding house?" Priscilla inquires, as they walk down the street. She sure seems like she has something in mind, but she's asking questions first, rather than making assumptions.

Rainmaker has posed:
    Those dark eyes glance Priss's way at that, a brow rising. "...well...a multi-room deal would probably be the most efficient and give everyone a bit more privacy. I'm not sure. If we could a house, that would be ideal, but I doubt we could afford one that would be big enough. And we might be a bit, ah, rowdy for a boarding house." Also, while she doesn't mind ribbing from her friends over any noises that might carry through the walls at night, she doesn't really want to involve total strangers in it. "I guess we're pretty open honestly, we haven't started seriously looking yet, since our lease doesn't run out for another few weeks."

    She squeezes her hand. "So...you do want to move in the same place with us?' she says, smiling in pleasure at the idea. "Well...sure, yes, you would bring that, but we would want to pay equally." she says firmly. "It wouldn't be right to depend on you being able to pay for things." Even though she's certainly bringing in way more money than Caitlin has been able to by being a freelance computer contractor, or Roxie has in...ah, acquiring things. And Sarah...hasn't found anything yet. Something that honestly bugs the dark haired beauty; she's a believer in working hard.

Voodoo has posed:
Priss gives a gentle squeeze back to the Amerindian beauty at her side, and continues to walk along. "Mmm? Well, yeah. I wouldn't mind getting into a larger place than I'm in now. And if we don't go for nicey-nice, that should still be affordable. And if we make a deal on a block of rooms, then I think it would be even more affordable." No proof of this, but still, Priss thinks it is likely. "And I wouldn't mind having better folks to share a hallway or walls with." She won't get into why that might be so, but it wouldn't be hard to imagine what a downbeat hotel full of strippers and such might be like.

"You know that if you want to be able to stay independent, you're going to need to find ways to contribute and support yourselves. You don't need a lecture from me." Priss comments. "But I am going to give you the same advice someone gave me: take help from anyone you think you can trust when you can get it. The time will come when you'll have to figure out how to do it without their help, and it may well be a lot easier if you're in better shape at the time, because you accepted the help when it //was// there." Which is the closest to a lecture Priss is capable of: quoting Hadrian. Well, paraphrasing. He was shouting at the time.

"If the ID thing is a problem, that might be the first thing we should try to work on." Priss offers, considering. How can she help them to get IDs? She could make some contacts. She could probably call Hadrian. She doesn't want to do that ... but to help these folks, especially Sarah, she would.

Rainmaker has posed:
    Sarah worries her lower lip with her teeth a bit, nodding to Priss. "I'm not too proud to take help." she says gently, looking back over at her, a twinkle in her eyes. "...and I'm reeeeeeasonably sure I can truuuust you." she drawls, her voice taking on a teasing tone. "So I suppose I should listen to you, yes."

    She nods in agreement, letting her hand swing just a bit in the mulatto girl's hand. "...that would be enormously helpful. We...could really use ID, but I don't know anything about...well, where to buy those." It's left open exactly why she or the other girls can't use their IDs, but Priss has seen some of her memories, so she might have thoughts on why she wouldn't want to. "We could definitely get some money together for something that would at least pass for simple jobs though."

Voodoo has posed:
The mulatto stripper nods. "OK. I'll ask around, find out where we can go, and what it'll cost to get some IDs, and get back to you. I'll err on the side of something better, just because we're less likely to have problems down the road that way." Easier to, say, buy a motorcycle or not get arrested when pulled over if the ID can pass a closer inspection.

Priscilla leads them to a small park overlooking the bank of one of the rivers that runs through the city, and over to settle in the grass of the embankment, watching the water flow by. "You remember how we both said there were things we weren't talking about yet? Things we might want to talk about later, when we were feeling ready?"

Rainmaker has posed:
    Sarah HAS been wondering where they were going, but not enough to ask. She's content just to walk with Priss, enjoying her company wherever they end up. She nods in agreement. "Sure, if I can help too, let me know, I guess? I suppose I might know through a friend of a friend some more 'screw the man' sort of activists who might have something like that.

    As they reach the embankment, she gracefully sits in a cross-legged position with the ease of long practice, resting on her hands as she admires the peaceful scene before them. When Priscilla does bring up that particular topic, her head tilts, her dark brown eyes reflecting suprise, then a bit of uncertaintly mixed with interest that the other woman can clearly feel in her...a mix of curiosity but also a tightening in her chest, that she pushes down. "When we were ready, yes." she confirms softly, watching Priscilla gently. The curiosity grows while the apparently reflexive worry gets pushed back down as she seems to gather her thoughts.

Voodoo has posed:
Priss turns her head and those purple-hued eyes watch the other woman, calmly, warmly. "I want you to know that whatever you tell me, whenever you tell me, will be safe with me. You don't ever //have// to tell me, if you decide not to. That's OK. But if you ever need to talk, need someone else to listen, I will always be a safe place for you. Anywhere, any time. About anything."

Trust, though, is a thing best earned when it is given, and as an empath Priscilla knows that better than most. "I believe the same is true of you for me. And I want to prove that to you, if you're willing. The choice is yours. We can wait. I don't //have// to tell you now. But my instincts are something I listen to very well. And my instincts are telling me that it might help you to know more of me than you do." And so she leaves it in the other woman's court, as it will, as she lifts their hands so that they are resting attop her knee, visible between the two of them. Connected.

Rainmaker has posed:
    There's a moment of silence, as Sarah breathes in and out slowly at that. Not looking away, a little spike of complex emotions shooting through her. There are dark ones there at the base, the sort that Priss felt in the gym when she touched her, but also a sense of longing, a desire for honesty.

    She can feel when she makes the decision, most of her emotions pushed down, though with a sense of vulnerability rising to the surface that's reflected in her face as she looks down at her lap, leaning forward as her hands rest on her knees. "...I trust you..." she breathes out softly, looking back over quietly. "It's...it's not a happy story, mostly. But...it's mostly because of...of this..."
        She holds out her hands in front of her, maybe a half foot apart. Nothing for a moment..then a spark as a small electrical arc jumps from one palm to the other. There's a sudden swirling of the breeze around them, coming from nowhere, carrying with it the scent of rain. The water in the river ripples, a spiralling curl running across it, as it splashes up on the edge of the embankment almost playfully, curling up in an impossible wave for a moment before it splashes down into itself again. The breeze dies, as does the spark.

    And those lovely brown eyes watch you, her heart in them, as she waits to see what you'll say.

Voodoo has posed:
Priss's response is not nearly as surprised as Sarah likely expected. Instead, she reaches out her hand and rests it over the nearest of Sarah's holding that hand, twining their fingers together as her purple gaze remains locked on the darker gaze of her ... girlfriend? Is that the word? She hates labels, but largely because she recognizes their power.

That's a thought to be answered at a another time.

"A lot of the most important stories in the world aren't happy ones, Sarah. That doesn't make them any less important. Just harder to share. And that much more important to be heard, when offered, and understood." It's probably odd, how wise Priscilla comes off as being. And about 'smart' things, things requiring education, she's not. But emotions? Thoughts and feelings? She could give the wisest of elders a run for their money.

In answer to Sarah's minor demonstration, Priscilla begins with words, but ends with a visual demonstration that is just as clear and uncompromising. "You know I'm of mixed race." It's pretty obvious, and she has made no secret of it. "But what you've guessed isn't quite the half of it." There's an odd look in Priss' eyes, as the purple seems to flow outward, the iris growing wider as if swallowing the rest of the schlera in slow motion, the white disappearing and the pupil drawing in on itself.

At the same time, the feeling of the hand resting on Sarah's changes, as the skin ripples and shifts, becoming a hardened carapace of reptilian appearance, with viciously deadly claws still lain gently against Sarah's hand. The transformation remains limited to her hand and lower forearm, and only stays for a minute or so, before rippling away and being replaced once more with Priss soft, feminine hand. But it's the sort of thing one finds very hard to forget. As the transformation reverts, so too do Priscilla's eyes, the purple receding to just her irises.

Rainmaker has posed:
    There's a widening of eyes, a sense of shock from Sarah as she stills, looking down at the hand resting on hers as it...changes. There's a sense of confusion, then for some reason amusement (and I thought mine might be shocking) as she looks down at the hand, watching the talons curve over her hand, the feel of the roughening texture against it. There's a faint image of a vicious looking young man who's partly transformed, but with fur and claws, very briefly, along with a faint tinge of remembered anger.

    She's still. But to her credit, she doesn't jerk away, or even pull away, just...fascinated by the clawed hand, until it recedes, changing back. Her dark eyes flick up to Priss's again, in time to see the normal beautiful purple of her irises return. "...okay, yours is better." she jokes, a bit weakly. "...wow. So...ah...very...mixed race, then?" And finally she moves, twisting slightly. Her other hand comes up then covers the formerly clawed hand, her hand under it turning. Holding it comfortingly. There's sympathy now mixed with the curiosity, but understanding. It makes sense now. "You WERE at that club, weren't you?" she says softly, just holding her hand. Her feeling resolve in to decision, before she leans over and abandons the hand to slide her arms around Priss. "...oh...and this is...why." she says softly, remembering what she said about her friends turning against her. "Oh sweetie..." She squeezes her gently, her eyes glistening a bit with sympathetic tears unshed.

Voodoo has posed:
Well, that went better than part of Priscilla - the slightly jaded, untrusting part - feared it would. No screaming. No throwing things. No //lightning attacks//. And no vile epithets. That went a lot better.

Priss makes a weak smile. Better? She's not so sure about that, but the humor is appreciated. "Yeah. Very mixed. As in, at least two, probably three human races, and two alien ones. 'Cause life wasn't complicated enough." she adds.

When Sarah puts it together, Priss nods. She refuses to lie, and so she doesn't. "Yeah. I was. They were there for me. I did what I could. But ... " But it wasn't enough. More than a few innocent people - people she knew, many of whom she worked with, were hurt. A few were even killed. And Priss has to live with that.

"And yeah. The reason my old friends got all weird, the reason I left, was because we found out I wasn't just part //their// kind of alien, but also partly the //enemy// kind of alien." Priss adds. "They couldn't handle that." Then she embraces Sarah, sighing. "One of them was there, that night. She helped. But ... enh." What's the use of getting into it further right now?

"There's more to ... me. But that's the part that's easy to see. Easy to know is true. And trust has to start somewhere." Priss offers. And now she has given her trust to Sarah.

Rainmaker has posed:
    Sarah mmms, holding her, lowering her head to nuzzles her shoulder quietly. There's still sympathy and understanding, but also a sort of lessening of the worry and fear she's carrying. This is...a bit like her situation. They're both being hunted. She HAS given her trust. What else can Sarah do, but the same? But first...

    She gathers herself, looking back into Priss's gaze. She wants to see those beautiful eyes. It gives her something to focus on, as she starts to speak, a bit haltingly. "...I...I never knew my father. It doesn't show, but...I'm a half-breed." she says softly. "It didn't matter to my mother. She loved him, and she said he loved her. He was always away, when I was growing up. He'd come and visit, but sometimes it would be months. And she always waited for him. I wanted so badly for him to stay..."

    Through her touch, Priss can catch some of her memories...a beautiful Amerindian woman with some features in common with her. Where Sarah has inherited a certain soft curviness, her mother looks to be more slender, with slightly harsher cheekbones and hair worn in braids. There's a more vague image of a large muscular blond man in a button up shirt and jeans.

    "I wanted it so bad, so I prayed to the Creator that he would let my daddy stay with me and mom. So when it happened.." She breathes out in a quiet sigh. "....when it happend, when the air started to...dance with me, the water too...I thought I was blessed. It was a gift, to help peple who needed it."

    There's an old memory of a much younger Sarah, coltish and all legs and elbows and only the first hints of curves, standing on a mesas as lightning crackles and dances through the sky, a storm swirling around her as she's pelted with rain, grinning wildly.

Voodoo has posed:
Priss wraps her arms around Sarah, holding her loosely but being intimately present with her as she listens. She doesn't pull away, and she doesn't interrupt. She lets Sarah flow naturally through her story, and just makes sure she's there supporting her. This is going to be hard for the other woman, and Priss knows it.

Priscilla doesn't have great memories of her parents. They are relatively nebulous figures who disappeared early in her life. But she understands the feelings that come from those sorts of connections in others, and how big a deal those connections are. "That had to be pretty amazing. And scary." she murmurs, continuing to listen. No judgement. No pushing for more.

Rainmaker has posed:
    The other woman nods softly, a breeze brushing her long hair as it ripples behind her. She leans into Priss's arms, comfortably, trustingly. The touch soothes her, removing her worries, making this easier for her. "It was wonderful. What little girl doesn't dream of having magical powers? I could make it rain, and for people on the rez, that was a gift too. My mom, she wasn't nearly as sure, but I didn't realize why. I thought she was jealous or..." She exhales sharply, annoyedly. "And I was a little bratty back then, so..." Her chest rises and falls slowly as she's silent for a bit. "...but when they came for us, I understood. In the night. There was no warning, but they'd followed rumors back."

    There's another flash of a door being kicked down, her mother yelling at her to run, the sense of terror as another man comes through the window she was about to use. She sparks, but she's not good enough to control it as he raises his gun, and there's a phhhht, and a pain in her shoulder and then blackness...

    "They took both of us. We never saw my father again...I found out later that they'd made up a story that we'd died in a flash flood. Bodies lost. They took us to a lab." Her voice is oscillating between emotionless retelling and a faint tremble. "...if they hadn't been careless, if they hadn't ignored my mom because they were more worried about taking me apart...she wouldn't have been able to suprise one. Knocked him cold, grabbed me, and we ran...stole a jeep. Then we went into the scrublands, way away from anywhere else. We disappeared there."

Voodoo has posed:
Priss continues to hold Sarah, listening, absorbing, not interrupting or interfering. She is there to support, to be present, to bear witness. As Sarah reaches the end of their escape, she hugs the Amerindian woman firmly, nuzzling lightly along her ear. And she waits. That story doesn't end with the others. There has to be more.

Rainmaker has posed:
    And it all comes out. How they hid, how her mother started training her, along with some of her uncles they trusted on the rez. How hard she wokred to learn her powers so she'd be ready. How careful she was to avoid anything that would hint where they were. But they found her again, when she was older. Nearly 18. It was an accident; another metahuman looking for her to help, followed to her by the Black Razors. They fought, but were separated...and it wasn't enough in the end, not a teenager girl versus a crack military unit armed and prepared for everything she could do.

    "They dragged me back in chains, to Project Genesis. They'd set it up as a school by that point, gave out scholarships to people like Caitlin and Roxy to trick them into coming." She strokes her fingers up and down Priss's back. "It turns out our parents were the cause...my father, Caitlin's father, Roxy's father...they'd all been part of this...experiment. Generations of trying to force the gene that creates mutants naturally to artificially activate. They called it a Gen-Factor." She smiles a bit. "...Caitlin used to be this adorable little science nerd..maybe 5'2, A cup. I remember seeing her once in the communal showers, hiding in the corner with big eyes staring at everything. One of the few times they actually let me out of the cell they put me in." She smiles more at that. "...they underestimated her, and Roxie...the others. Caitlin figured out what was happening, and she staged a breakout during an attack by another rival group. She saved me. And we ran." She looks up into Priss's eyes. "And we've kept running ever since. Some of us have split off to hide elsewhere, but the three of us...we've stayed together. Because they still want us...because we know what they did. I SAW what happened to the other kids. They...they would drug them again and again, force them into dangerous situations, torture them...." Her hands fist and Priss can feel the dam in her break as she rests her forehead against her shoulder. Tears start spilling down her cheeks, tracing wet trails. "...they kept doing it, over and over, and when we showed we could, they'd...freeze us like we were test subjects and ship us off to whatever they wanted to do with us. And if we didn't...they just killed us. We were NOTHING to them. Their precious Gen13...." She blinks, then reaches up to wipe at her eyes, her body trembling at the remembered helplessness and rage and fear, the things that were done to her..some of which weren't experiments at all, but just cruelties by guards allowed to do as they wanted.

Voodoo has posed:
Priss holds Sarah, and lets her get it out. Lets her cry it out. Soaks up the feelings, and the memories, and the pain, and just feeds back caring support and understanding. There's not a great many things she can say that are going to help at all; nothing will undo what Sarah has suffered, or what her friends and she are going through hiding from these monsters. But Priss knows about monsters.

"I'm sorry for what you went through, Sarah. I'm sorry for what happened, what you saw, and the burdens that lays on you." Priss offers. "I can't make any of that better. But I can support you, and understand. And I will. And I do."

Priss doesn't burden Sarah with more of her own details just yet. They have time. For a bit, everything just needs to be about the other woman. And that's just fine.

Rainmaker has posed:
    Sarah's face is hidden by her hair as she gets herself under control, wiping a bit angrily at the tears. She doesn't let anyone see how much this affects her. But every day she does, she's so damned glad that the others NEVER went through what the others like her did.

    At Priss's words, her head comes up slightly, then she looks up, her dark eyes finding your purple gaze again. And Priss will feel something very special shift inside of the other woman as her eyes widen slightly. That rush of feelings, that interest, and curiosity, and desire and passion, that teasing and sympathy swirling through her coalesces into this bright, warm, gold thing, a tiny spark in her.

    "...I think I'm falling in love with you..." Sarah whispers softly.

Voodoo has posed:
If Priscilla was a tad more of a true cynic, she would say something snarky and unkind. Lots of people say things like that to her. It's quite natural; everyone loves to be understood, and who better to understand you than an empath. But Priss is also a genuinely warm and caring, friendly person. And she has feelings too.

The secret to Priscilla's heart is someone who understands //her// feelings. And Sarah is someone she can imagine doing that. And without the cheating extras.

The mulatto stripper leans in and presses a light, undemanding kiss on Sarah's lips. "I want you to understand, before I say anything else, that I heard you. That I know you feel that way, and that it is really special to know you care that much. And I care about you, a lot. But I can't promise yet that I'm in love with you. And I will never lie to you, Sarah. That is my fiercest promise."

They are words Priss imagines might really sting. She wishes that weren't so. But that honesty is a promise she has made herself, too. It's too damned important not to live up to it. But she braces for the slap that may come. There's no way to know. She just has to tell the truth ... and wait.

It won't be long, either way.

Rainmaker has posed:
    It's impossible that it wouldn't hurt a little bit. It's that moment where all her defenses were down, saying something impulsive, if honest. And yes, it's foolish, and yes, she's never believed in that sort of thing, those silly romantic comedies where somehow the two people fall madly in love in a day of adventure or something.

    But Creator, it still hurts, even if it's done so gently and delicately. She'd feel worse if she knew Priss could feel the blossom of remembered rejection, then...shame, that chases the little gold spark deeper. She can almost feel Sarah's inner walls realigning again, though the Amerindian girl is masterful in how little of it shows in her face. "...no, you're right....I'm sorry." she murmurs softly. "It just slipped out, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable..." Already denying it. She smiles weakly. "...it's just I've never met someone like you. And I really want to see where it goes. But...but be honest. I'd rather you be honest." Even if it hurts a bit.

Voodoo has posed:
And with those words, tears spring from Priscilla's eyes, and she throws her arms more firmly around the Amerindiian woman's body, hugging her tight. "I'm sorry, Sarah. I'm so really, very sorry. You didn't make me uncomfortable. You make me feel wonderful. I love being with you." She pulls back, then, and looks Sarah in the eyes. "I honestly hope I do fall in love with you." And because she has already proven she will always be honest, hopefully those words are words Sarah can believe in just as much. They may not mean as much as being told 'I love you' in response to her own words, but they are the truth.

And so is what follows.

"You've told me your story. I'd like to tell you mine. That is, assuming you still want to hear it?" She won't push on where she may no longer be welcome. That's something Sarah must decide for herself.

Rainmaker has posed:
    Sarah breathes out as she's hugged so firmly, making a small noise. "..o-okay..." she says softly, smiling at her quietly. That old feeling of rejection receeding, though the rest keeps wirling fitfully around inside her. The truth hurts..but at least she knows it's the truth.

    "I still want to hear it." Sarah says, sitting up more. "I want to know about you..." She's calm now....she feels a bit emptied, first by dealing with those memories, finally letting the tears out, and then...well, even if it was premature, it got it off her chest. She thinks. Even if she's lying to herself a bit. "Tell me." She reaches out to slide her arms around the other woman loosely, holding her as she waits.

Voodoo has posed:
And so, because Sarah asks, Priscilla tells her story. All of it, starting with her earliest memories, and then foster families, the group home, running away from that to be the teen stripper.

"And that's what I was doing when they discovered me. Apparently, I'd always had hints of my abilities, and never known it. I just thought I was good with people. And I am. But I never quite knew why." Priss explains. Which is when she starts talking about the Sight, the uncanny ability to always see the truth in someone shapeshifted, possessed, or under mind control. And the Daemonites who came to the club to kill her ... and being saved by the WildCATs. Finding out that she was part alien, and training with them to help fight the Daemonites.

Then Priss starts explaining all she has learned of herself, and her powers and abilities. Like the ability to eject the Daemonites from those they have taken over, and the development of her telepathic powers from that point. And discovering her empathic aspect, and the fact that apparently she has a bit of unconscious constant projective empathy, the thing that makes her so incredibly attractive to almost everyone who encounters her - even someone who's blind. If they're attracted to women, or capable of it in even the tiniest bit, she generally becomes one of the most attractive people they've ever seen.

As Priss keeps explaining, she's waiting for Sarah to put it together, to withdraw, to pull back in refusal, even possibly to slap her - or punch her. She'd deserve that, to one way of thinking. Not that any of it is intentional. But it's still manipulation of a sort, even if she doesn't do it to hurt anyone, means no harm, and actually does care.

"I learned to fight from one of them. Zealot. She's ... she's incredibly old, but still looks young and healthy. I learned strategy from Spartan. I even learned why I suck at school from Maul. And then we went off-planet, and we found out that I am part Daemonite, as well as part Kherubim. And when we got back to Earth ... they couldn't handle it. They kept looking at me with suspicion. With fear. With disgust." Priss shrugs. "So I left. I went back on the road and back to stripping." And that brings them to when and where they met.

Rainmaker has posed:
    Through much of it, Sarah is mirroring what Priss did for her when she told her story, just listening, letting her tell the story at her own pace. There's rushes of sympathy at some of it....running away, for example. She finds herself wishing she'd known her then. They could have hid out together. Or done a Bonnie and Clyde thing. It would have been nice to have someone else her age then.

    The Daemonites sound creepy to her...but then, the other woman across from her appears to be part Daemonite and...she's a genuinely good person, as far as she can tell. She frowns at the attempts at murdering the younger Priss, relief when she's rescued.

    And then she moves on to an explanation of exactly how her powers work.

    There's a little swirl of confusion at first, that sort of 'wait, what did she say?' response. She stills a bit. Wait...she....projective empathy? The confusion grows, as well as the uncertainty. There's a healthy amount of immediate denial. No, she DOES feel what she feels...doesn't she?

    Is it..is not real at all? Creator, she must have had so many people she had to give that same talk to, or a version of it.

    A faint shimmer returns to her eyes as the emotions threaten to boil over. She genuinely doesn't know what to think. A vicious rat of doubt gnawing at her, the worst elements of her fears given form.

    She just nods faintly as Priss finishes the story, a conflicted ball of the most basic emotions tearing at her. And through it all, it doesn't show on her face at all, other than the betraying shimmer in her eyes, her features composed. Showing the Amerindian "princess" that she grew up with people expecting to see, the same one she used to wall off herself when she was mocked and teased for being a half breed, for her mom being a "slut"....

    But she doesn't lash out. She doesn't even know if she wants to do that. Does she want to hurt her...what point would that be?

    It's honesty. It's truth.

    And she can't hide from the wrench it's throwing into her deepest emotions.

    "Okay..." she says "So...they can find you? Can we help you hide?" She takes refuge in a issue she at least knows something about, pushing the rest aside. It doesn't hurt. She won't let it hurt....

Voodoo has posed:
But Priss is a telepath and an empath, and she feels it all. Feels it all, and gives way too much of a damn to let that fester and hurt this woman she cares about more than she already has. So Priss reaches up, gently cupping that high-boned cheek, and she leans close to press her own cheek to the other. "Sarah. I'm sorry. I know that telling you all this is causing you pain. I want you to know that's the last thing I want for you. Absolutely the last thing." She pulls back, her purple eyes meeting those shimmering dark eyes of the Amerindian princess. "But that's my curse. I can't ever be sure that someone loves me - falls in love with me - because of //me//. The real me." Tears are streaming down the mulatto woman's cheeks, and she does not hide them.

"I care a lot about you. I may even love you. And I cannot bear to see you hurt yourself even more. Don't try to deny the pain, Sarah. Please. Doing that buries it deep where it will burrow in and poison you. It will poison the inner beauty of the woman I care about. The woman I am honored to call my friend. My girlfriend, if she'll still have me." And Priss exposes herself, leaves herself vulnerable, because she is always vulnerable: she feels that self-loathing uncertainty and that seed of hatred as if it were her own and aimed at her already. She can't escape it.

"It's my look. Forces of theirs eventually find a stripper with my look, and word spreads, and then they come. Usually I get out ahead of them. I keep moving. But I made up my mind to stop running. I stayed in one place long enough for the Daemonites to catch up. And my friends and coworkers died and were injured. Because of me."

Rainmaker has posed:
    Sarah blinks rapidly, focusing on the woman across from her again. She shifts, hesistantly reaching up as her thumb brushes against the tears. Creator she's...she's making this so much worse, isn't she? She gently brushes away the tears on Priss's cheeks, even as her own spill out finally, her facade cracking as the beautiful empath knows exactly what to say.

    She makes a gasping noise, tinted with a bit of the emotional pain running through her before she crumples a bit against Priss, just clinging to her as she hides her face from her against her chest. "...dammit, you're the worst girlfriend..." emerges muffledly from somewhere around the mulatto beauty's chest. There's no real heat behind it though it's tinged with humor. And she can feel a curling black amusement at the situation edging through Sarah's feelings. But that little gold spark hasn't completely set either. And she can feel when Sarah consciously starts to compose herself pushing down the emotions.

    Priss can see a flash of why to, the image of her own tear-streaked face.

    "...it...it matters, but it doesn't matter." she goes on, sniffling, as she pushes herself up a little. "Don't cry...I don't want to make you cry..."

    It's not quite the same spark now, eroded by the relevations. But it's still a warm, soft sensation, washing against Priss's thoughts, that moment where Sarah choses to put it all aside so she can comfort her first, that very human empathy for Priss's pain over her own.

Voodoo has posed:
"Yep. The absolute worst. Here I am, understanding, caring, so open I know what you're feeling and what you need without you even needing to find the words." Priss answers. She's teasing, being playful, but it's also the truth. "Doesn't hurt that I'm sexy as Hell, and almost completely uninhibited. I just suck at being a girlfriend." See? They can both use biting humor.

"Neither one of us wants to make the other cry, sweetheart." Priscilla offers. "But I would rather we be open and honest with our feelings. Mine right now bring tears to my eyes. So do yours. That's not something for either of us to be ashamed of." But it's also not something to belabor or dwell on overmuch.

Priss just holds and hugs, and the tears slow and stop on their own. Meanwhile, she talks more. "I don't know what you can do to help me hide. I can't stop dancing. That's what I have to make money. That, or going back to the team. But I can't do that. I won't." And not just because of the Daemonite thing. No. No, now she has a girlfriend, and other friends. People she cares about who care about her as something other than a fellow soldier in a cold war tends of centuries old. "So ... I don't know."

Rainmaker has posed:
    Sarah sniffles, then rubs her eyes a bit. "I do." she says, more steadily. She reaches out to take her hands, holding them. "You're not alone now. And if your old team was too stupid to believe in you, then their loss, so bad, so sad." She smiles weakly. "That may be partly due to the fact you're sexy as hell, and looks absolutely bangin' in or out of clothes. But also because we like you and want to help. And at least we can do some good with what was forced on us, if we're protecting people we care about."

    She inhales, then lets out a slow breath. "I'll be honest too then. I don't know how to feel about that, that what I feel might not be completely me." She brushes her thumb against the back of one of the mulatto woman's hands. "...but.." she says, a little softly now. "....if you can read me that well...you'd know that I was attracted to you when I first saw you. And not just because you're gorgeous, but because I liked the funny, clever, and badass girl I'd met. And that was before I'd been around you for a while. So..." She looks into her eyes. "...I know the foundation is real. It wasn't my imagination, or pushed on me."

Voodoo has posed:
With a watery smile, Priss leans close and kisses Sarah. "That ... that's really awesome to hear, in ways I'm not smart enough to describe." And it is. Knowing that the seeds of Sarah's attraction to her came //before// the empathic whammy really does feel pretty damned good. Sure, the empathy has ramped things up, and they both know it. That'll be hard to deal with, sometimes. But ... it's not all based on a lie.

"Well, we'll just have to figure something out. Because I still don't want to run. And if I don't run, and I keep dancing, they //will// come again." And honestly, there's only so much innocent blood shedding Priss can take. Empath, see. With an open heart, the guilt is unbearable.

"Thank you. For listening. I know it wasn't easy. But you not only listened, you understood, and you accept me anyway. That ... that's really huge for me, Sarah. Thank you." The stripper kisses her girlfriend lightly, but with a very tender passion. "Would it be OK if we just stayed her a little while? I'd just like to cuddle with you in the sunshine and relax, if that's OK."

Rainmaker has posed:
    Sarah gives that request due consideration, then shifts around suddenly to apply weight to Priss, leaning into her as she gently but firmly pushes her on her back. "I am amenable to this suggestion." she says mock seriously, before curling up next to her, sliding an arm and a leg over the other woman's 'body as she wiggles up against her, then rests her head on her shoulder, getting comfortable. "...we'll figure it out." she says softly., reaching up to brush her long hair off her face and over her shoulder as she smiles at the other woman.