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[schwanengesang]

"You've reached Rachel Duncan, leave a message. I'll get back to you when I see fit"

 

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cw: more abuse, now with specific description SORRY D: (also slkgfk ty)

[magnitudes]

Just because people can escape doesn't mean they should have to.

( Very quiet and very flat. Sarissa debates, for a moment, before nodding towards the somewhere to sit, and as she starts to move towards it - slow, enough that Rachel can take a seat first - she shrugs off the jacket she's wearing. It leaves the holster she's wearing across her back visible, and the gun as well, though she's drawing that and makes a show of showing Rachel the safety is on before she sets it down with her jacket. Out of reach of Rachel, yeah, but not on herself either. And with both of those things on the floor beside her seat, Sarissa takes a seat. )

I want to have family that aren't tearing each other apart, and I don't want us to be having to escape or survive shit that the others are doing. It doesn't matter if the specific threats aren't here, there are always other threats to be mindful of, and some of them would come after you as quick as they'd go after the others.

( Sarissa grabs the lower hem of her shirt and pulls it up, turning to show Rachel her back. Not all of it is visible, but enough is to show messy scars that were once flesh torn apart. Her gaze is pointed away from Rachel. )

My old man'd tell me to pick what belt he'd use. There was this one he had that was wider than all the others, made it easier to deal with. Less—— sharp with the sting, you know? He cottoned on to the tactic, after a bit. Decided to use the buckle instead of the strap. ( The shirt drops back down, and she smooths it before looking at Rachel. ) Threats can take all kinds of shapes, Rachel, and they can do all kindsa things. Doesn't matter if you're not a higher up of some big organisation, far as I'm concerned.

rachel is /the/ bitch

[schwanengesang]

[ She watches Sarissa, her moves surprised her, how differently she carried herself from the last time they met. She takes a sit, her arms crossed on her lap and body language obviously very rigid, but she tried her best to seem relaxed. Although the glances she stole of the gun would easily say otherwise, she didn't concentrate on Sarissa's words much, that is not until she caught a glimpse of her back. At first, her instinct was to reach over and grab the gun with Sarissa back turned, although she didn't, for many reasons. One of them was that she knew she wouldn't be fast enough, and fighting this Sarissa in her state would be foolish, and the second was the scars were shocking. Only momentarily, though, as she easily composed herself.

It wasn't that she was completely apathetic to seeing such scars, but Sarissa wasn't the first to endure abuse. There have been others that went though childhood abuse, and to Rachel, it was all numbers and developmental issues. In the back of her mind she was taking note of everything, and was even proud of herself for seeing at least some of this coming. ]

Then get rid of the threat before it strikes. [ She looked at Sarissa coldly, as if whatever fear she was feeling just moments ago disappeared completely. She's back to pushing her boundaries, experimenting with how far she could go with this clone. She needed to know whether she should really fear this one or not, and provoking her seemed like a good enough test. ] I'm sure you know my history. Why do you think talking about family would change anything? You think showing me your scars would make me show you my hypothetical scars?

it all hurts

[magnitudes]

( The huff of an exhale past her lips could possibly be taken for a laugh, and she sits down next to Rachel. )

What would you suggest? Keep you locked up in a basement? Tell you that I’ll let you rot in there, just… leave you, kept alive enough that you don’t come back but not actually letting you live?

( Sarissa’s smile, in what small way it can be counted as one, is faint. Whatever flinch Rachel might have expected to see doesn’t come. The anger? Doesn’t flare. Sarissa is all kinds of rage, but she walked into this thinking of it like trying to diffuse a bomb, and that doesn’t happen with yelling. This isn’t about her or her pain, even though that’s the only thing it’s about, on some level. She shakes her head. )

I don’t think you’ll ever let me see something you don’t want me to. But I’m the only one of us here that gives a damn if you’re alive and safe. ( I’m the only one you haven’t hurt, she could say, but that might give something away all on its own. ) Even if you don’t give a crap about family, I do. Not pissing me off is to your benefit. Not hurting the girls? Getting me on your side? Your benefit. You can talk about us not being family and you not caring until the cows come home, but getting along with us helps you.

( A little shrug, then. ) And I told you about my father because— because you’re smart. You’d probably figure it out, and I figured being honest with you about something that was really shitty might be the only way to show you that I’m willing to communicate with you. Actually communicate. Not make it all gunshows and hidden knives.