Lincoln in the Bardo / tamarix

[+ JAMIE]

Chrys was contemplating the nursery's aesthetic.

Pretentiously, of course.

Example: The blue blanket is very soft. But it has become too small. Minnie can have it. Or: The orange blanket is both big and soft. But the color is ugly. Orange washes me and mom out. I will have it removed. Or: This room would be better with more natural light. And ventilation. Or: Why did they put the plate of herbs up here? To keep it away from us? How ignorant. Kittens grow. You think grownups would know that. Di and I can jump up here easily. See. Ha. Hm. Not much space up here. Cramped. How poorly thought out. Someone could knock the plate right off -

CRASH.

Six feet in the air: jumped. Six feet to the ground: bolted. Ten feet to the nest: flown. Orange fur bristled as he dove into the pillows. Breathing loud in ears as he squirmed under blankets. Tail tucked into the nest, sort of. Chrys was too big for the old bed they all shared. Too much of a hog. Constant complaints from his sisters. Even a grimace from his mother, when sprawling sleeping Chrys shoved them onto the floor. But the nest was his safe space. Overgrown? Maybe. Would that stop him? No. A mountain of BloodClan's best blankets and pillows, piled poorly over Chrys' body: hilarious.

Eyes bugged wide he poked his nose out. Looked at where the plate had fallen. Shattered. Blue ceramic across concrete floor. Herbs everywhere.

Nuts!

Both his sisters gone. Mom too. Boring uncomfortable stuff. Meeting potential mentors. Whatever. He hadn't been listening. Had gone into a sulk instead. Leaving the nursery: Impending reality Chrys was not coping well with. AKA not coping with at all. Sassafras had given up trying to make him. Better to let him stew then deal with his resistance. (An errant worry: Poor Sassafras: Where had she gone wrong?)

Now an unexpected reality: one he couldn't blame on his sisters. Like he usually did. Nuts.

Smear of red caught his eye. Almost simultaneously: a stabbing throb in his paw. With difficulty Chrys extricated it. Held it up in front of his face. Saw the shallow deep cut right across the pad. Blood oozing out. Pain shooting up his leg like he had never felt. Unbearable! Agony! I'm gonna die!!!!!!!!!!! All thoughts of blame gone, mouth open instead. Attention only on the Crisis. It hurts SO BAD!!!!

Chrys gave a piercing high-pitched wail: the kind that murdered aestheticism where it stood.


DELAWARE

[DELAWARE]

The piercing wail shrieked through the tunnels of the Eyrie and hit Tamarix full in the eardrums where she walked, about half-way along the dark path that led from warehouse floor to Haven. At the sound her pace, which had been a rather reluctant amble before, burst into a flat out run. The path was, blessedly, a mostly straight one, except for one sneaky twist at the end (ostensibly as a last barrier to any unwelcome invaders), but Tamarix had traveled it often enough that she knew the route by heart. Barely pausing as she hurled herself around the shadowed, hidden corner, Tami's paws pummeled the concrete floor as she raced the last few feet into the nursery. Almost immediately, she tried to backpedal. Forward momentum grappled with weight thrown backwards for a few awful seconds, her claws scrabbling as she tried to bring herself to a halt, and then she was stopping, sliding to a somewhat ungraceful halt just centimeters away from a shard of blue-painted plate. Gasping hard, Tami stared at it wild-eyed, not recognizing it for what it was as she cycled through a list of potential threats, but gradually her surroundings began to filter in through her panic and the pieces, albeit only figuratively, came together. With a great sigh of relief, Tamarix relaxed. Thank God it was only a plate - she wasn't prepared, at all, to fight any of the other horrible alternatives she had been imagining.

Which begged the next question - who had issued that banshee-worthy scream? Even as she looked around, though, Tamarix knew the answer. Both Diana and Minerva were out on the main floor with Sassafras, and nobody except for Tinsel, family, and one or two pre-approved warriors were allowed into Haven (Axel's direct orders). The single reason that Tami had been heading into the nursery at all was because Sassafras had caught her finishing up lunch and asked her to head back, ostensibly to "keep an eye on things" but really, Tamarix knew, to serve as a babysitter for the only occupant left inside. Tamarix didn't quite whine 'Do I have to,' but even as she grumbled at the idea, she was already on her way. It wasn't like she was doing anything, anyways, and besides - it was pretty clear to everyone in BloodClan that whatever Axel's kits or mate wanted, Axel's kits or mate got. It didn't bother Tami as much as it did some other warriors - as a child of nepotism herself, being on the outside looking in was more of casual point of interest than an anger-inducer - but still, she wasn't exactly seeking it out. At least for the most part, she got along well with the kits. They were well-behaved when she was around, and she was hardly going to be the only chink in the armor that being so totally beloved had given them. Who would have guessed, Tami mused as she approached the pile of pillows and blankets, stepping around shards of broken plate, that Axel had so much paternal instinct in him? It wasn't like it was a natural conclusion to make.

Tami finally rounded the pile of blankets, stepping over Chrys's enormous furry tail on the way, and drew up short as the full extent of her cousin's distress hit her. From where she stood, she could scent the faint trace of blood on the air, but she couldn't see anything on the paw Chrys was holding up in front of his face. "Chrys, it's me! Stop yelling!" Tamarix said, perhaps a little too harshly; with some effort she revised her voice to sound more friendly. A nice bedside manner wasn't exactly her forte. "You're going to be okay." She padded forward, taking up a spot next to Chry's head, though it was a little hard to see considering he was still swamped under a million pieces of cloth. Seriously, Tamarix was getting hot just looking at him, and she had short fur. "Let me see your paw," she said, reaching out and gently moving the kit's paw so that she could take a look at it. "Oh," she said, and snorted. The thinnest, shallowest of cuts crossed the big pad of Chrysanthemum's paw, the blood that oozed out already beginning to dwindle. Was this what he was screaming about? Had he never seen blood before, or something? Actually - considering the way they were pampered, Tamarix wondered if that wasn't an actual possibility. That probably wasn't a good thing, given the Clan's name and history and all. As it was, though, this was possibly the dumbest, smallest injury she had ever seen. She looked at her cousin, not quite hiding the disbelief in her face or her voice. "That's it?"


[ ooc + JAMIE lmao these two ]

[+ JAMIE]

One thing sure to always trigger Chrys’s attitude: implying he was underreacting. Or outright saying. His sisters and mother learned quickly: Chrys’s problems trumped all others. Even if they didn’t? Well. They were wrong. Had to be shown the error of their ways. Usually at the end of a temper tantrum. Or tears, if anger was not working.

Tamarix’s voice echoed beyond his pillow palace as she said the one thing guaranteed to coax him out.

“What do you mean ‘That’s it’?” Chrys wailed indignantly. He shoved his head out. Rumpled fur, puffy face. Red eyes: Chrys cried hard and fast. Glared at his cousin. A new layer of offended hurt, the victim his pride. “It’s bleeding!” Yanked back his paw. Pouted at her. Sniffled. Weepily: “It hurts.” Not actually a lie. It did hurt like only a shallow cut can. “I want my mom.” A snotty (figuratively and literally) command. Little Emperor syndrome in the flesh.

Underneath: a deeper layer of concern. One of Chrys’s great fears was suffering anything while his mom was not present. Mom was a band-aid, a tonic. Her very presence a healing potion. Mom equaled safety. Safety equaled mom. Tamarix?

Eh.

Not a fan.

Chrys was not close to Tamarix. Not like Diana or Minerva. Fundamental differences in being reinforced by differences in upbringing. Similar outlook on the world: With the inclinations of philosophy: But Tamarix grew out of it. Or was more objective. Whatever. Chrys was the least objective cat in the world. He did not understand Tamarix. Found her weird. Stand-offish. Unfriendly. (Read: not willing to pamper.) And what happened to her mom? To her siblings? Axel had given them Too Long, Don’t Read version and Chrys still did not get it. How could someone not have their mom and be functional? Plus Tamarix never mothered him. Surrounded by adults who adored him unconditionally (or pretended they did) Tamarix stood out like a sore thumb.

So. Tamarix was possibly the worst cat possible to be here. At least in Chrys’s mind. He retreated back into the pillows. Yelled as he went: “Bring me my mom!”


DELAWARE

[DELAWARE]

As Chrysanthemum proceeded with his meltdown (or temper tantrum - perhaps that was a more accurate description of what was happening here), Tamarix resisted the urge to roll her eyes. To her great credit, she succeeded. Handling all of her cousins required an amount of patience and tact that she had never before thought possible, though Minerva was a tough one, and she had quickly gotten used to reining back her typical sarcasm-based impulsive reactions. Older cats, if they were offended by Tamarix's honesty or aloofness or straightforwardness, could deal with it; young kits, as it turned out, were a much different story. She'd grown into the patience okay - after all the things that had happened in her life, slowing down and waiting it out was surprisingly far easier to do than she had ever thought - but the tactfulness, well, she was still working on that. She blamed her parents; neither Piper nor Fawn were known, at any point in their lives, for being tactful. "Your mom is busy, Chrys," Tamarix said, doing her best to sound soothing while also trying to get the words out before he vanished back into his pillow fort. She semi-succeeded at the first and failed miserably at the second, her final few words hitting a wall of cloth and cotton, and she sighed, tail and ears flicking slightly in irritation. "She won't be back for another hour or so. She's helping your sisters. Didn't she explain this to you?" Sassafras definitely had; Tami doubted that she would have left without making it clear to Chrys what was happening. Chrys's ability to actually process that information, however, was a less guaranteed thing.

The resounding silence in Haven that followed Tami's question was not a promising one. If it had been any one else in her situation, Tamarix would have found it hilarious; the age-old scene of a hassled adult trying to coax a petulant child out of whatever hiding place they had retreated to. At the present, though, she was just... hassled. Tami's love for herself was seriously debatable and 100% shrouded in lots of unresolved personal problems, but she absolutely loved herself enough to not stand like a fool in front of a bunch of pillows until Sassafras returned or Chrys deigned to stick his head out again. "Look," she said, trying for a different tack. What would someone like Sassafras say? Or Tinsel? Or... literally anyone with more one-on-one personal relations skills than Tamarix had? Then again, this was BloodClan. It wasn't like Tamarix had a lot of luxury in choice when it came to examples of exemplary, well-intentioned, pure-hearted, socially functioning cats. She blamed her dad. "I'm sorry if I sounded like I wasn't taking it seriously," Tamarix said. That was a good start. "I was just relieved that it wasn't anything more serious, Chrys. You know that I - er, we - all care about your well-being." Mostly because Axel and Sassafras would eviscerate anyone who said otherwise, but eh, nuance. "I'm sorry that it hurts. I've cut my paw before and I know how painful it can be. Can you please come out so that I can take a look at it? We should probably get it bandaged." Tamarix stopped, slightly impressed with herself. As far as sentiment and actual wording went, it hadn't been half-bad. The tone needed a little work - she sounded a tad stilted - but hey, you can't expect a miracle in all things.

Tami took a seat as she waited for a response, curling her tail neatly around her forepaws and letting her mind wander a little. Haven was so different from the nursery where she had grown up, the large, warm, cozy space both far more decadent and far more appealing than the assortment of trash that had served as her first home, but there was an essence to it that remained the same nevertheless - a feeling of peace, of safety, of warmth, like a pocket dimension or a time out of time that was accessible only to the lucky few. Everything had been so definite then, Tamarix's place in the world so certain, her convictions absolute. Fawn and her siblings were her constants, her father on the periphery but there, and reality seemed far away, made up almost, even though the only thing separating her from the real world was the cloth-covered entrance to the den. Being here in Haven was not much different; if anything, it was more insulated, more protected, more preserved. Certainly Axel practically kept this place in quarantine. But even if he hadn't, Tamarix thought privately, it would have still been like this, quiet and separate and isolated. There was just something about nurseries that provoked that feeling. Or maybe it was more to do with safety and peace. Margot's house had been like this, too, sun-drenched and friendly and comfortable. Some days, particularly when she was in Haven, Tami wondered why she had even come back. For a while there, there hadn't been a lot in BloodClan for her; the harsh reality was that barely anyone would have noticed if she had gone. But then again, if she had left, she would have never met her cousins.

Her cousins. They reminded her of her own siblings, the trio dynamic similar but not an exact copy. If she had to draw comparisons Diana was most similar to Honey, dramatic and extravagant and full of life. Minerva was the most like her, probably, though Minerva lacked the sense of entitlement that had fueled Tamarix's self before reality came and knocked her senseless. (Tamarix winced thinking of her openly-flaunted elitism; though some aspects certainly remained, the difference between old Tami and new Tami in that regard was like night and day.) Chrysanthemum, though... Chrys was a creature unto himself, entirely dissimilar from Asch or Honey or herself. Perhaps that explained why she found him the most difficult to understand and certainly to get along with. He seemed like a multitude of juxtapositions held together by his love for his mom and a certain degree of arrogance, and, honestly, Tamarix had no idea what to do with that. "Chrys," she said again, "Please come out." Silence; casting her gaze around in a vain effort to find something that might help her cause, and resisting the urge to reach into the pillows and haul Chrys out by the scruff of his neck, Tami caught sight of a bag up on one of the higher boxes. Her eyes widened, and in a flash she was making her way up, returning a few seconds later with a very beat up bag of kitten treats (purloined from the dumpster behind an apartment building) in her jaw. Sassafras had given very, very strict orders to only use these when absolutely necessary - the number of treats was very finite - but hey, desperate times called for desperate measures, right? Tamarix set the bag down, the contents rattling inside, and cleared her throat. "Hey, Chrys. If you come out I'll give you a treat." Bribery by babysitter: totally healthy, right?


[ ooc idek but at least it was fun to write lol + JAMIE. [:ripples:] for minnie mentions ]

[+ JAMIE]

Suspicious. Suspicion. Total mistrust.

Did Tamarix really think he was going to be fooled? Chrys was offended. He was not easy. Caring about his well-being? Her cut paw was as painful as his? A snort. He doubted it. This was the most pain: ever. If she cared about his well-being she would go get mom. Sulkily he burrowed deeper. Ignored her. Diana was stubborn. Minnie was stubborn. But Chrys? Chrys was the most stubborn of them all. It dumbfounded Sassafras.

Chrys: errant and vague until he decided he wanted something. A treasure trove of juxtapositions. (He thought.) Secretly? Sometimes he did the opposite of what was expected. Or asked. Just to be contrary. The more Tamarix asked him to come out, the less he was interested. No can do ma'am. Sorry lady. Why did his mom think he needed babysitting anyways? Chrys could handle himself.

(The cut: conveniently forgotten.)

But... it was getting hot in here. Stuffy. Dusty. Chrys wrinkled his nose at the bunnies attacking his face. Mostly Diana's fur. Long black strands everywhere. One going up his nose right now. He sneezed. This did not make it anymore comfortable inside the pillows.

Maybe he should come out. Would that be losing face? Chrys flattened his ears. Disgruntled. Principles and morals were not something he thought about a lot. They were a concept. Passing fancy. Chrys went where the wind blew him. Or where his sisters went first. Wrong versus right... Why did that matter when everything was a shade of gray? But it didn't answer the question. To come out or not come out, that is the question. One one hand: he would win. On the other: it was boring in here. And his paw was hurting. A bandage wouldn't be too bad.

Wait. What if Tamarix left? Sudden panic descended. An impossible idea! Nobody left Chrys alone. Except for his mom and sisters today. OK. Nobody ignored Sassafras's orders! But this was Tamarix. Who was super not cool. She would totally go. Oh no. Chrys didn't want to be left alone. What if his paw got infected? What if he died?

But if he came out: he'd be giving up.

Chrys was torn. In the greatest dilemma of his young life. A paralyzing effect. And then:

"Hey, Chrys. If you come out I'll give you a treat."

The perfect excuse.

Immediate relief. He wriggled forward. Tried to play it cool. Stuck out his nose. Sniffed: yep. Treats. Pushed out his face. Little lion with a mane of pillows. Narrowed his eyes at Tamarix. Looked at the treats. Then her. "I want three," he demanded. Minnie and Diana weren't here, after all. He had to keep it fair.


DELAWARE

[DELAWARE]

Tamarix couldn't help herself. She snorted as Chrys's head emerged from the pillows, tousled and frumpy and entirely too quickly at the promise of treats. As weird and unfathomable as her cousin was, he was also just a kitten still. A kitten with an entirely inflated sense of his own importance, it had to be said, but considering her own past, Tami figured she didn't have much of a leg to stand on. "Three?" she echoed, but she stuck a paw into the bag anyways, scooping out - with some difficulty - three of the fish-shaped snacks. The already limited number left in the bag was left noticeably scarcer, and Tamarix tried very hard not to notice it, or, indeed, think of Sassafras's expression when she found out. "You'll have to come all the way out," she told Chrys firmly, pushing the treats towards him but stopping just out of reach. "I'm not going to feed them to you." This felt like a preposterous thing to have to say, but considering who she was talking to, Tami thought it was rather anticipatory of her.

Truth be told, if Chrys had wanted to stay in his man-cave for the entire duration of this babysitting venture, Tamarix wouldn't have minded overmuch; he'd probably fall asleep, and there wasn't any chaos that he could wreck, or awkward interactions that they could have, while he was unconscious. If there hadn't been a real risk of him bleeding all over the pillows, she probably would have just let it go. That, and his parents' displeasure, were quite the motivating force, as it turned out, forcing Tami to let go of her usual tendency towards laziness. "All the way out," she repeated again, fixing Chrys with a Look that she had stolen, 100%, from Sassafras. Just to reinforce the point, she moved the treats a little farther away. It was easy to forget, but Chrys could move just as fast as his sisters when he wanted; he just usually, well, didn't want. Or had his sisters do his dirty work for him. For reasons that Tamarix found unfathomable, all three, despite their differences and frankly intense personalities, doted on one another. Tami was old enough now to recognize that this sort of no-holds-barred, willingly open love had been passed down from their parents, and though the Tami of the past would have laughed this idea out of BloodClan itself, that was before she had seen the way Axel and Sassafras adored their kits. It made Tamarix's throat close up, sometimes, though the reasons behind that were just more things she wasn't interested in investigating too closely.


[ ooc + JAMIE ]

[+ JAMIE]

"MOM would feed me." Sulky. Grumpy. But half-hearted: Chrys wanted the treats. Three of them! And it was too hot in the fort. And he wanted a bandage for his paw. And Tamarix was not his mom. (Ew.) So: he pushed himself halfway out. Made a swipe for the treats. Whined as Tamarix pulled them farther away. Issued her ultimatum. Another whine, but he slithered out. Made a great show of limping across to the treats. Forgot to limp when he got closer. Put his face down. Suctioned.

A mystery to this day: did he even chew? Guess we'll never know.

Worth it? Heck yeah.

Sat down. Didn't retreat back into the fort. An indication that for all his suspicions, Chrys trusted Tamarix. She was a known entity. Unknown. But known. Enough to stay in her presence. A compliment: Chrys hated strangers. Small-talk. Blessing his time on new people. Ugh. He had his sisters. Mom. Dad. Who else did he need? That's right. No one. But Tamarix could stay. Grudgingly. A favor. (More than spending time with strangers, Chrys hated being alone.)

Now: he looked at her. Looked at the bag of treats next to her. Gears moving in his mind. How to get more...? Back at her. Approach decided: cooperation. Reluctant cooperation. Better than nothing. Problem was, Chrys could be insufferable about it. It was the mix of petulant demanding and obviously fragile ego. Like walking on eggshells. Exhausting.

He shoved out his paw. Oozing a little blood. Didn't look at it. "Fix it." Demanding. Underneath: queasiness. Real anxiety. "The plate broke," he added. Unconvincing: "I don't know how. I don't know why they allowed such a dangerous thing into Haven." OK, that was maybe too much. Even for him. Tamarix definitely wouldn't buy it. But hey. Gotta stick to his guns. Besides. Who was going to call him out on it? Not anybody with brains, that's for sure. They might get a moment of superiority. Of I showed him. And then Chrys would sic his family on them. What? It's karma.

DELAWARE

[DELAWARE]

With Asch as a brother, Tamarix had gotten used to being around cats who could eat their weight in double-time, but even she watched in mixed horror and admiration as Chrys inhaled the treats. She was tempted to make a comment - less health-oriented, more snarky - but refrained. She might have had to bribe him but Chrys had still deigned to come out of his cave, and she didn't want to send him slithering back in again. She had a feeling that any attempt to coax him out a second time, treats or no, would only end in failure. Tamarix herself had been lucky to never encounter Chrys's stubbornness, but word got around, and saving that, sometimes Sassafras' exhausted face said it all.

That being said, she regretted holding her tongue as soon as he turned his attention towards her. The order - and the obvious expectation he had to be obeyed - made her whole body prickle with irritation. Not even the reminder that he quite literally did not know any better (being treated like royalty as a child had its drawbacks, Tamarix knew this all too well) was quite enough to soothe her. Still, she did her best to keep her tone neutral from judgement. "Unless you want me to lick your paw, for a cut that small, it will stop bleeding soon on its own," she said, and made a great show of peering at the cut. Honestly. You could hardly see the blood. "It'll fix itself if you're patient. Just keep the weight off." She glanced at Chrysanthemum and couldn't resist. "Patience means to wait without complaining," she added, and if she sounded a little sarcastic, well, Tamarix was really doing her best, all right? That being said, though, she didn't linger too long in the moment. "I'll clean up the plate. You're right, it is quite dangerous, especially when it's broken like this. Stay here, please," she added as she stood, pre-empting any escape back to the pillows.

Tamarix could feel Chrys's stare on her back as she began to carefully sweep the shattered shards into a pile, but she didn't turn around. He'd really done a number on the plate - she saw right through the lie, of course - and it wouldn't be good for either of them if Sassafras or, heavens forbid, Axel wandered back into Haven and saw that Tamarix had left such a hazard not dealt with. And that was if Diana didn't come rampaging back in and cut herself on it first. In some ways, Tami supposed, perhaps it was a good thing that Chrys was the one to have broken the plate - Diana would no doubt make it worse, and Minerva would probably have tried to clean it up herself, which might have resulted in disaster regardless of intention. Speaking of his sisters... Tamarix took a deep breath, steeled herself, and tried to make small talk. Which she loathed with every fiber of her being, really, but somehow hanging out with Chrys in oppressive silence was an even worse prospect. "So your sisters are out on the main floor, huh?" Sassafras hadn't told her much - anything, really, she'd looked quite hassled - but Tami figured it was as bland a topic as any. "Don't you want to join them?" In retrospect, she normally would have been a little more sensitive than that, but she wasn't thinking it through, desperate as she was to fill the silence and distracted with her plate-collecting mission.


[ ooc + JAMIE ]

[+ JAMIE]

"Patience means to wait without complaining."

"That's what mom says. I hate it." Despite the words: Chrys stayed still. Said nothing. Narrowed golden eyes: watching his aunt. Tracking her every move. Observing every action. Picking up plate pieces. Sweeping into piles. Reference for next time. Cleaning for dummies. Covering his tracks. Getting rid of the evidence.

And also waiting for:

Back to him. Paw shot out. Grabbed the forgotten treat bag. Shoved face inside. Four treats doomed immediately. The rest saved: Tamarix turning around again. Bag shoved under body. Cheeks full of treats. Swallowed as she asked her question. No chewing involved.

"So your sisters are out on the main floor, huh? Don't you want to join them?"

Indignation. Hurt. All at once. All out in the open. "NO. Don't WANT. It's BORING. Meeting smelly old cats. Talking about training. Being apprentices. Moving to the Eyrie. What's wrong with Haven?" Temper mounting. Tantrum incoming. "It's warm here. We have lots of space. Toys. Pillows. Everything we want! Why do they want to leave?" Voice rising. Tears springing. Treat crumbs everywhere. "I hate old smelly warriors. I hate the Eyrie. I hate the idea of training." Worked up. No brakes. More sensitive than anyone realized. So sensitive he forgot to be careful.

"And I hate hate hate hate HATE!" Secret never revealed before. The (hidden) reason Chrys hid in Haven. Resisted any attempts to come out. Was taciturn and anxious when he did. Impending reality Chrys was not coping well with. "THE GHOSTS!"

AKA... not reality at all?!


DELAWARE

[DELAWARE]

"Smelly - that's - you - the what?" Tamarix stared with wide eyes at her cousin, simultaneously trying to process everything he said and come up with an appropriate reaction. She was failing spectacularly on both counts, Chrys' rant exploding her brain like an unwelcome fourth of july celebration. Though everything he was saying made sense, on a word-by-word, grammatically-correct kind of way, the absolute chaos in it - the breathtaking lack of logic - made the neatly-oiled gears that ran Tamarix's mind grind and stall. From ghosts to smelly warriors to having everything they wanted, Tamarix couldn't decide what she wanted to do more: give in to the strong temptation to cuff Chrysanthemum around the head or apologize to him profusely for growing up in such blanket-lined privilege. For the moment, as a middle ground, she stared at him in absolute bewilderment.

"You hate the... ghosts," she finally said, and if she sounded deadpan, well, you couldn't blame her. "Chrys," she started, hesitating as she tried to be delicate and then deciding that she wasn't cut out for it, not at this level, "Ghosts aren't real." No matter what her dreams tried to insinuate. With a great effort, Tamarix summoned her best big-cousin and good-babysitter attitude and said, with a voice full of mock lightness, "Look, being nervous about becoming an apprentice is completely normal. I was nervous too. But even though it's a big change, it's completely worth it." A smirking vision of Lucifer appeared suddenly in her mind; Tamarix winced slightly and hurried on. "Your parents aren't going to let your mentor be, ah, an... old smelly warrior? Is that what you said? You'll get the best guy possible." Tamarix felt sorry for the unnamed warrior already. And then she said carefully, because her aptitude for beside-manner-talk-therapy was rapidly being used up and she wanted nothing more than to make this conversation someone else's problem, "Have you tried talking to your parents about this?"


[ ooc + JAMIE ]