Sybil Crawley (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
adifferentlife) wrote2013-05-15 06:13 pm
adifferentlife) wrote2013-05-15 06:13 pm
The long walk home [[for Kaine]]
The night had gotten late without Sybil realising it. The emergency room had been busy and she had stayed at the intake station well past the time her shift was supposed to be over. When it finally became quiet enough for her to leave the hour was nearing on three. All the girls that she would normally walk home with were gone, likely showered and in their own beds. The taxi that she called never arrived, and Sybil found herself frustrated, tempted to walk home on her own even though it was so late.
It was only after she remembered the murder that had happened so recently that she pulled out the phone and painstakingly pulled up Kaine's number. She tapped out a message, trying her best to not spell anything incorrectly and to use all the proper punctuation. A few minutes and she had sent it, asking if he was still awake and if he would walk her home from work. It was relief that she smiled with when the message came back that he would. She shouldn't be so dependent on him, she knew that, but who else was she to call? If this were Downton-
Sybil cut the thought off before it had time to fully form. This wasn't Downton and never would be. She'd adjusted to that, for the most part.
It was only after she remembered the murder that had happened so recently that she pulled out the phone and painstakingly pulled up Kaine's number. She tapped out a message, trying her best to not spell anything incorrectly and to use all the proper punctuation. A few minutes and she had sent it, asking if he was still awake and if he would walk her home from work. It was relief that she smiled with when the message came back that he would. She shouldn't be so dependent on him, she knew that, but who else was she to call? If this were Downton-
Sybil cut the thought off before it had time to fully form. This wasn't Downton and never would be. She'd adjusted to that, for the most part.
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"Would you be offended if I laughed at the idea of you as a villain?"
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"No, I wouldn't. I think that I've a hard time killing a spider when the other girls are all shrieking. I rescue them and put them outside. They're lucky you know, if you have one in your pocket." A strange superstition she learned from a housemaid as a child, she can't even remember who told her. "I really would just want everyone to get along with one another."
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"Also pretty good luck to have one on speed dial."
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"It is, isn't it? My sisters would likely laugh if I told them." Sybil shakes her head in amusement. She cannot imagine either of her sisters as being the villain either, believing the best in them both.
His words make her pause, cocking her head as she looked up at him. When it dawns on her, her smile grows. "It would seem that I do."
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"It is, isn't it? My sisters would likely laugh if I told them." Sybil shakes her head in amusement. She cannot imagine either of her sisters as being the villain either, believing the best in them both.
His words make her pause, cocking her head as she looked up at him. When it dawns on her, her smile grows. "
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"I ever tell you that for a while, I looked like a giant spider?" I ask. Maybe not the best transition ever, but I don't think that Sybil would be bothered by it all that much. Well, at least not as much as some people. She might actually find it interesting.
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"An actual spider?" She cannot keep the surprise from her voice, trying to imagine that. What it look like, what would he be like beneath that? "Did it hurt?"
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"Human sized though," he said, indicating the height he used to be at, which was well over his current height but still human sized.
"Giant mandibles, freaky eyes. Drooling. Eight harry legs."
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The shiver this time is well-earned, she feels, pulling closer to Kaine for all that he’s describing something unappealing. “I’m glad it got better. I don’t think I would like it if you were like that.”
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"Not one of my better moments," I admit. Not that I've had a lot of good moments. Maybe one or two, really, so I guess that was one of my average moments. Debatable on whether or not it was one of my uglier ones.
"That was after I came back from the dead."
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“Yet you tease me for reading silly novels,” she says, looking up to him in bafflement. “Your world- It sounds so different than mine. These things, were they usual? Has so much changed between your time and my own?”
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"It's more like... if it happens to you once, it's likely to happen again. So unless you dress up in a costume to fight crime or rob banks you should be fine."
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"Then I am sorry it has happened to you at all, and am happy you're here." Not only for selfish reasons such as friendship, though that was a large part of it for Sybil. "Here these things happen much less, don't they?"
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"If nothing weird ever happened to me, I'd never have existed," I point out. Which would be fine with me, really, but I don't know that Sybil really shares my sentiment on that. She stubbornly believes the best about me, even if she shouldn't.
"Although, I guess there's a good chance I won't exist, depending on what happens here."
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That sort of talk makes her head hurt. Thinking of not existing, of lives being lived in their absence, it’s all a rather strange fantasy rather than anything she can really comprehend. “But you exist here, and so do I, and that matters more than any of that, doesn’t it?”
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"I'm going to say yes, because I know I'll end up agreeing with you eventually," I say. And a portion of her is right. I know I have a good existence here. A great one, better than I deserve by far. A part of me is always aware of the fact that I shouldn't have it though. I don't tell that part to Sybil anymore, I know better than that.
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"Maybe. But you had an advantage. You're better at listening to me," she says the last brightly without any rancor or ill-will toward her father. It's just how things were and what was expected, and her father always meant well, he just had five women to listen to.
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"It's because I like your accent so much," I tell her, although that's not it at all. Sybil is a good person, good in a way I'll never be or understand who when she talks I listen, because I try to be better.
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"Your accent is much better," I tell her. It's crisp and formal but somehow she makes it sound warm and... not pretentious. I like it a lot. Or maybe I just like Sybil a lot.
"You should hear a Texas accent. I don't think you'd want one of those."
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“The grass is always greener,” she says in a sing song voice, amused that she is using the line that has been so often recited to her. “Can you imitate it?”
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I sigh and am about to tell her know, but I know I'm going to eventually do it anyway, just like I know better than to argue with Sybil. When did this happen to me? It's annoying.
"Well," I say in my best Texas drawl. "I reckon I can do that for ya, ma'am."
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Her hands fly to her mouth as she nearly squeals in delight. "You sound just like a cowboy must."
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