(1942-08-16) Tilda's Poison
Tilda's Poison
Summary: Sometimes even the most steadfast succumb to the rumor mill. Clyde is tired, Lillie is insecure.
Date: 1942-08-16
Related: Revelations
Players:
clyde..lucietta..

O'Cleary Residence, Higsi
Tue Aug 16, 1942


Here we have a smaller Victorian fixer-upper with good bones. Previously closed up for a couple of years, the well-secured house has avoided the ravages of neglect. The new owner has already begun to work on some of the more 'tired' corners, making this place her own.

The house, circa early 1900's, consists of a larger lower level and a half-storey. A narrow walkway meanders from the road, through a modest fence and into the yard proper. A slight stoop leads one onto a large outdoor landing with a crude-yet-stable porch swing set up at the farthest end of the step. To the rightmost side of the house, one can just barely discern a garden bed and a sturdy shed. Entering the house proper, one is met with a porch, comfortable den, kitchen with pantry, powder room and two small bedrooms. A narrow staircase ascends to reveal a smaller spare room and an attic crawlspace that is accessible via ladder.

The mustiness has long since been chased away by the smell of TLC, good cooking and something faintly floral. Cut flowers or perfume, perhaps?

Weather:
It is summer. The weather is hot and clear.


<FS3> Lillie rolls Empath: Good Success.

Sometimes it's hard to be the companion to a 'reformed' gossip. Reformed as in, Matilda Barnes' crosshairs aren't quite latched onto Lillie quite as much as they used to be. But the fact remains: Tilda is yet a gossip; the bridge game was in fine form yesterday as information and stories were passed in tandem. One old bird happened to be the grandparent of the clerk who spied 'something' at the Farm and Fleet that very day. This piece of information will have passed through a few accounts, finally finding it's way to Tilda and being conferred — with intent to amuse, honestly — to her young companion as she poured tea.

It took everything in Lillie not to spill; not to mess up the task that she performed so gracefully, on countless visits. Not to mess up or take anything out on Tilda who really… truly.. didn't know any better.

But the sense, goaded on by Lillie's stress and upset, became more insistent. Hard to ignore. After bidding the old girl adieu she couldn't get away fast enough.. had to get home. Had to get busy and work hard and just do whatever she could as she reasoned 'why' this happened. Surely the tale has been muddled, messed with; surely.. surely…

Trying to mow a lawn with a geriatric (and mercilessly manual) bearing mower is not a good outlet, and at the same time just as befitting. Lillie gives the damned thing one more ineffectual shove as the blades creak, her lips pressed into a tense line. Color high, eyes flashing. God damnit, Tilda.

Clyde worked up on the mountain yesterday, so he's in town today. The Alpha's tired, but wants to visit Lillie quickly before heading home. He's got bee boxes to make in the morning. Dirty jeans bring him up the road and he frowns, seeing Lillie fighting with the lawn mower. Sighing to himself, he resolves to mowing her lawn before going home. "Need some help there?"

Just looking at her, poised over the lawnmower, her slender frame is a vision of tension. Clad in a loose dress, since her slacks are currently drying, Lillie figures attire is the least of her problems. Her sense harangues her like a hornet, trembling and brooding in the back of her mind; another sort of energy beckons her from behind the shed; a pinpoint of something whispers from the front porch. Stress.. stress is not Lillie's friend. "Posa cac!" She cries out at the mower in Gaelic, prettily calling it a grand piece of shit.

Rubbing her face as she resigns to leave it be, it is then that the sense gleefully feeds her an all-too-familiar emotion.. or array of them. That sort of mental 'fingerprint' that she recognizes so well. She sees Clyde as he approaches, and looks at him in surprise. She can't quite hide it, her eyes are wide and pinkish. Had she been crying? Or otherwise emotional?

Or does she just really hate mowing lawns? She is simultaneously happy to see Clyde all-the-same, relieved, and still… very, very hurt by what that gossip rambled on about.

The smile fades and Clyde glances around, "What's wrong?" Because obviously something is wrong. She doesn't look hurt, but has been crying. He inhales, trying to pick up any clues, "Lillie….are you alright?" He steps closer, but doesn't reach for her yet.

She wants to go to him, so terribly; it shows too, but she needs to be able to see his face clearly as she poses the question that has burned in her mind all day. Her fingers clench the handle of the mower. No clues, no bad scents or anything to point toward ill-happenings. Her hair trembles slightly in the warm breeze, reddish-brown in the light. A hand lifts to rub at her face.. she feels badly but just… what else can she do? Just keep it in?

"I-I work for Tilda Barnes." She says tremulously, "And I hear things a-against my.. wishes.. she talks all. the. time." A pause as she looks into Clyde's eyes, feeling his tiredness and lamenting it. Her lips tremble once. "S-she got to talking this morning, and—please.. Clyde.." Lillie's accent is heavy in her unease; she looks so vulnerable and nervous.

That which calls to her from behind the shed, in an unfettered patch of grass, screams in her mind.

"Did Leona Styne kiss you in the Farm and Fleet?" Lillie asks in a small, worried voice as her eyes brim again. Note: her kissing him, not otherwise! At least Lillie isn't jumping to the worst conclusions. "P-please.. please tell me those foolish birds were wrong.."

Clyde frowns, not liking what he's seeing. Worry spikes in him, cause if she's this upset, it can only mean she knows. But then the words are nothing bout silver or werewolves. Just Kissing. He gives the smallest of snorts, "On the cheek. Jesus christ, don't those old biddies have anything else to yap about?" Dark eyes study her, "Yer upset about that? She had a faintin' spell, I helped her ta a seat."

<FS3> Lillie rolls Retrocognition: Success.

Her eyes squeeze shut, as she ignores the calling vision.. she is yet too far away, but she can almost hear the giggle of those two kids. She opens them, looking upon Clyde and listening as the tears streak down past her nose. She trusts Clyde, obviously; the sense would feed her certain nuances and he feels every bit his Clyde'ish self, just.. tired, annoyed. But now it's Lillie's turn to rub her face again, her tension expelling itself in a quick sigh, a little growly huff. "Of course I was upset.. I try not to let the gossips get to me, but y-you should hear what they are circulating! Like damned cows with their cud!" Lillie exclaims, still upset but obviously not with Clyde.. or not even Leona. The latter has kissed Lillie on the cheek a few times now…

And finally, Lillie is angry with herself. With how easily she fell into what the old woman said; talking about the Styne woman 'practically shoving herself onto the Walker' …. the nosebleed, however? Lillie did not buy the rumor of violence for a second. She knows of the strange bleeds.

"Can you blame me, though? I-I'm so sorry to have been led to believe that but.." Lillie shakes her head slowly. "I'm sorry." She exhales, but still looks stressed out. She keeps looking at the shed.

".. a fainting spell…? Tilda spoke of blood…" Lillie whispers, wiping her eyes.

Clyde is annoyed. He's tired, but was having an alright day, "Ya gotta ignore them, Lillie….they're always gonna yap about Walkers." Blame her, well….yeah. If she believed it. He takes a deep breath, "It were a nose bleed n' she got light headed." He doesn't move to touch her, instead he follows her gaze, "What's wrong with yer shed?"

She can feel that annoyance… and indeed, to some degree, how he may understandably blame her. But Lillie, too, is tired and aggravated, and the sense doesn't help her. "I'm not perfect." She says tremulously, "I try to ignore what I can.. I try so hard… and I will have you know that I am the first… to always.. go to bat for you and your kin." Lillie says firmly, quickly, rubbing at her eyes again. The strain of it all, as it eases, is no less painful.

"I trust you… it was her that I was briefly led to waver on.. and that bothers me too. But I can't field it all the time, not when I have to work around these people." Lillie says softly, looking back to the shed. "Not the shed. A vision. I'm i-ignoring it.."

That doesn't help. Clyde's frown deepens, she didn't trust him though. That's pretty clear. "Go inside then. I'll finish up yer lawn." He needs to straighten this out in his own mind.

The Empath watches him, still feeling that uncertainty. "I trust you. Please.. just trust me." She pauses, looking between him and the shed. The deepening frown elicits more tears; the sense begins to howl in her head. "I'm trying my hardest Clyde.. please just see." Lillie whispers, feeling herself becoming anxious… brow furrowing. "You're not a handyman to me, I don't expect you to do my work… don't bother with this lawn. I-I… just want to make you happy." Lillie feels the provocative pull of the shed, squeezes her eyes shut again.

"To take care of you." Lillie concurs, hands dropping from the mower as she finds herself unsure of what to do. Go inside? Leave him there?

"Clyde, do you trust me?"

Clyde's frown deepens, "I ain't the one listenin' ta the gossips." Curls sway as he shakes his head, "Vet Styne ain't no threat ta ya. No one is." Not in the way Lillie's worried anyway. His voice softens just a touch, "Go make yerself some tea, I'll get the yard." and he'll double check the shed too.

"S-she just kept going and going. I was so.." Breathe. Lillie looks skyward, breathes deep… what was she going to say? Scared? Perhaps. She may trust Clyde but sometimes she does not trust other women; the abundance of utterly beautiful women who have come and gone in this town, who yet remain, who look upon the Alpha. How can she, an eccentric artist at the edge of town, compete? Is that the root of all of this unease, what let Tilda's garbage sink into her mind—-

Clyde says something notable and Lillie snaps out of it, her brow furrowing as the sun settles warm and redly upon her shoulders. She will not lay bare this insecurity; not burden Clyde with the truly ridiculous way that women can be. She'll take what she can get and that will be enough. Lips twitch and tremble once and she nods, not even wanting to patronize the man by telling him not to worry about the lawn. Clyde, too, seems to sort out his thoughts when he works.

Sense still shrieking in her head, Lillie pads off toward the house. She breathes deeply, but for an entirely different reason from this misunderstanding. There's all this psychic energy that has to go somewhere.

Clyde doesn't know how visions work. Can't she just….get away from the area? It's above his knowledge, so he just nods and moves over to the mower. Tiredness rolls off of him, but now doing this is better than getting mad or frustrated at Lillie and the situation. Especially after the Roddy thing. If the rumors are that Clyde's forcing himself on folks, the man may come after him again. Operation take care of Roddy may need to get moved up.

Oh, if only it were that easy… too bad the house itself is home to a room that is, like clockwork.. vision-fodder. But it is a vision that is not wrought with blood or gore or other horrors… it's just sad. Lillie mounts the steps leading up to the house… wanting to make tea… wanting to sit, maybe offer Clyde some of the bumbleberry pie she made yesterday.. also wanting to gag Tilda. She could make a to-do list. It's a good thing she has no idea on what Roddy did to Clyde, otherwise her mind just may blow..

But once inside of the sunny space, Lillie does not turn left from the foyer hallway to head or the kitchen, she makes for a bedroom. The sense pulses and trembles, moving unseen along the walls and feeding her the odd sensations that sometimes arise with this house, deep within it's old bones. She is vaguely aware of Clyde working with the petulant old mower just beyond an open window.

It needs to happen, this tension needs to go.. the sense presses down on her like some mulish kid that doesn't know the meaning of gentle. She'll get tea after, right after, she needs to just make sure… her trembling hand curves around the knob leading into the spare room, and she pushes it open. The vision slams Lillie right between the eyes before her foot even crosses the threshold.

Clyde is unaware of what Lillie is doing, instead he focuses on getting her lawn done. And then checks the shed. And then the fence, marking his territory to keep any critters away. Basically anything and everything he can do to upkeep Lillie's house.

<FS3> Lillie rolls Retrocognition: Success.

It's for the best that the Alpha not see this, for he will have wanted to rescue Lillie.. likely haul her out of the bedroom while this energy remained unspent. Which would have been a pain. Think of it as empath blue-balls…! Eh? EH? .. bad analogy.

But the emotions of the day, the uncertainty that Tilda foisted into her lap, and the brief talk with Clyde… it all had to go somewhere, and anywhere but inward. Lillie just can't bear to boil with it any longer, especially if Clyde speaks to her again before he elects to leave. So Lillie stands in that pretty, albeit musty room and watches the same scene, the very same one, that accosted her the day the house was shown to her. It's a small mercy that the Rutherford child who gave her the tour, at that instance, was in the bathroom taking a dump.

Lillie had fun trying to explain away the tears; she blamed it on a bee sting.

The vision does not hit her as powerfully as it normally does… mere snatches of sight: the elderly couple, the dead wife, the devastated husband… bam, bam, bam. And the sense, her own hurt? That's the last straw, seeing this, and Lillie weeps it out into the room like an offering. The sense begins to soften, no longer naggling and stabbing but 'floating' gently.

Clyde's hearing is good, but not good enough to pick up sobbing upstairs. He finishes the work, pushing the mower into the shed before wiping his brow. Gonna be a long walk home tonight. The Alpha was tired before, now he's exhausted. But first, he starts making his way up to the house, wanting to make sure Lillie got that cup of tea to calm her down.

Silence in the house.. mercifully, no more sobbing. Lillie has been spent, and she is now breathing away the remnants of what she saw. Breathing herself back into the present, and calm. It is following a vision that she can now be in this room and look at it for what it is: this isn't even the same bed; that would be morbid. It's a smaller twin bed, a bare mattress, and some antiquated furniture that is mostly still covered up by white sheets. Green eyes slide along the walls and the god-awful climbing-rose wallpaper. A slash of sunlight stretches out of the room and into the hallway, as Lillie's eyes follow it's trajectory. Dust motes dance and wink in the light as she hears the front door open… there's no scent of tea, alas!

"I'm in here," She calls from the room, voice a bit strained. Lillie takes another slow, deep breath… and it's passed. Thank God.

No Tea. And Lillie's in that room, damn it. Clyde frowns and heads in, "Lillie! What are ya doin'?" He pauses beside the door, "Taking a nap?" That would make sense, right?

"Purging." She offers gently to Clyde's words… wait, what?! Before any wrong assumptions can be made, if Clyde turns in to see her in the room that is closed-up more often than not, he will see her sitting thoughtful and small at the foot of the bed. Her fingers, knit into her skirts in a gesture that is so Lillie'ish that it aches, slowly unfurl and she looks up at him almost languidly. Her eyes no longer look quite as troubled, but simply… emotive. Still a bit pinkish in the sclera; the green of her irises is brighter somehow, against the redness.. the color of sea glass. She wipes her face gently. "Casting the energy. It had to go somewhere." Lillie says as she stands, looking around.

"I need to do something with this room.." She says.. to Clyde? To nobody in particular? The ghosts? Lillie breathes deeply, and looks at Clyde again. Levelly, sober, and heartfelt. "I am sorry, Clyde. I hope I did not hurt you… and if I did.. I shall never do it again." She says with an amazing degree of calm, her crown a reddish halo in the sunlight that invades this sad little bedroom.

Clyde's confused, she threw up? He looks about, making sure he doesn't need to clean something up. He doesn't understand what she's tailing about, but he can tell she seems better. "I ain't hurt." He was, but he'll get over it. "Can I do anything fer ya?"

The confusion catches the Empath unaware at first, and then she understands. Her odd mental hoops are hard to explain, even to herself sometimes. "Not throwing up." She concurs in that strange way, as if she can pluck thoughts out of thin air. "I let the vision happen here, so all of this… these emotions that I held all day… wouldn't cause trouble." She says simply, padding out of the room but not seeing fit to close the door. She won't be caught again, and it's good to air the room out. She does not remark on the 'not hurt' comment; she knows she hit somewhere and regrets it. Lillie in-turn does not dismiss her own feelings, but she will simply deal with them on her own time.

Lillie pauses then, looking up at Clyde, and with a gentle arm she will reach forth and simply try to collect him into a hug if he will allow it. "I am alright.. I don't need anything. You're exhausted, Clyde."

Clyde can't understand. But he turns and follows her out. The hug is returned, although he's tired enough there's not a lot of energy to it. "You should get some tea n' sleep then." it's really all he knows to tell her about the vision aftermath. He just shrugs, he's not going to deny being tired.

"I don't need tea." Lillie says quietly, looking to the evening sun beginning to cast the window panes into a reddish-gold glow. She looks up at him, and takes his hand. "Come rest with me, for even just a couple of hours." She offers, looking him over from head-to-toe. She can see and feel the tiredness, and some degree of stress… a lot of it… rumbling along with the controlled undercurrent of anger. It bothers her, even moreso than the foolishness that Tilda spewed. "Come rest. Rest. Before you must once again work hard." She offers again, no overtures being made unless he wishes them to be.

It is truly the Empath's intention to see Clyde get some degree of a nap, preferably so that she may even simply hold him, before the long walk to the mountain.. but it is his decision to make. Lillie pauses then, looking up at him with those eyes.

Clyde blinks, not what he was expecting. "Ya don't want me in yer bed, Lillie. I'm filthy." His lids are heavy though as he watches her, "A cold glass of water will do me good though."

Linens are linens, they can be washed… but Lillie just won't push. "O-of course.." It is with outright worry that she watches the Alpha, and with a slow nod she makes her way toward the kitchen to get just that. The thought of sending him out into the world, exhausted, is just…. but how can she convince him otherwise? She can literally be seen swallowing her worry, and concern, as she goes about getting some ice water into a glass. This, and the wrapped bumbleberry pie, will be handed to him.

Clyde follows , taking a chair to sit at the table. He smells of sweat and grass and cigarettes. A soft sigh and his head tilts, "Ya made pie?" His stomach rumbles.

… damnit. Lillie can't bring herself to sent the man away, not like this. Not after the words exchanged in the yard, the misunderstanding, and how he yet worked on her yard (even at her insistence not to) and saw to it that she was ok. While so tired. The Empath sets the glass of water down in front of the Alpha, and the pie as well. She will either carve a piece out for him, or give him a fork and get him to dig in. In fact, with a stubborn little set to her lovely features, Lillie plucks a fork from the drawer, pulls the foil off of the pie. The crust is.. not pretty.. but it's decent short pastry that she cursed over. It's the filling that's to die for: hours spent on the trails collecting blackberries and blueberries… even a few late raspberries. The right amount of sugar, a hint of lemon… no useless ingredients.

Lillie holds Clyde's eyes as his stomach snarls. "I have a request afterall.. one thing I yet want you to do for me, Clyde Walker. Could you do something for me?"

Clyde isn't going to argue. The fork is taken, his curls bounce with the nod. His eyes go up from the yummy pie to Lillie's eyes. Last time she had a request, well… that ended pretty well for both of them. "What do ya need me to do, Lillie?" His fork digs into the pie as he watches her.

"I may be a basketcase who deals with ghost sense; sometimes I have a moment of weakness and let the gossip ramblings of an elderly woman touch down on parts of my mind when I don't want them to. But there is one thing that I know for absolute certain." Lillie says gently, her voice a lilting cadence. "I am a damned good cook. And you will take this fork, and eat this pie." She says as she watches his face, brow furrowed. She's not trying to be forceful; she's just so worried, she cares so much. Even in his anger, Clyde cared… this is the least she can do.

"So damnit, e——" …. wait, he didn't argue. He took the fork and is digging in. Lillie deadpans, blinks a couple of times, and beams a sweet smile onto the exhausted man. "Well, that's part of it. Eat as much of it as you can, get something on your stomach." All that lovely sugar. But she yet watches him, reaching forth to tuck some curls back behind his ear. That doesn't work.

"Let me take care of you. Take a shower, afterward… a long, hot shower. Be good to yourself, even if just for a time. Please, please don't leave here without me giving you that, at least." She asks softly.

Clyde's brow furrows, unsure why he's getting yelled at for doing what she asked. He digs in, eating quietly, but quickly due to hunger. Seems he skipped lunch. No, the curls can't be contained by his ear. Never! His fork slows at the mention of a shower, that could be …nice. He glances down at his dirty clothes and jokes softly, "That bad, huh?"

Silly, weird, loving Lillie. Just roll with it and eat the pie.

Silent as the Alpha digs into what is easily three quarters of a standard nine inch pie, Lillie's lips twitch at their corners with a slight smile. The offer of a shower isn't expanded upon until Clyde slows and speaks to her, and by then her eyes are fastened upon his curls as they bounce and twitch at the speed of his dining. Wowza.

Reaching forth again to give the side of his scalp another stroke, to resume that uphill battle Lillie nods once. "It is that bad." She says frankly, "And I don't mean dirt. Clothing can be washed. So too can the surfaces that clothing touches. I want you to find some reprieve, is all." Lillie implores softly. "I insist."

You mean there was 3/4 of a pie, now/ Not so much. He takes a moment to suck on the fork, getting the sugar off while she confirms he's in need. "….okay." It probably will do him some good.

Hmn, good. Better Clyde eat it than Lillie… she does not move to take the tin, in case the guy sees fit to lick the bloody thing clean. Relieved that he accepts her offer to take advantage of her bathroom, Lillie nods once.. gratefully. It may yet be enough to waken him just that little bit more to make it home safely… and not as the heavy-lidded pile of werewolf wreckage that he was originally setting out as. Planting a kiss into his curls, Lillie says gently to him. "I'll go get everything ready. Just, one other thing—"

She pauses in the hallway beyond the kitchen, watching the man with a little glint to her eye. The final part of her apology… though that light in her gaze is much too like that which flickered there the evening she… uh.. presented.

"I'll be scrubbing your back." Lillie says pointedly, and slips off to the bathroom.

Well then. All of her other worries, about the gossip mill and the problems it's breeding, of Leona's worrisome bleeding and fainting spells (she wants very badly to check on her, suddenly)… she will worry about them in her own bed. Once she is sure Clyde is taken care of.

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