Who: Cat/Cal What: Talking things out When: Around 3pm, May 25th - Pre-this Where: Cat’s trailer of Crazy Warnings: Cat’s mildly mad, anxiety attack, mentions of abuse and Idk what to call Callum not liking what Naamah did but that’s there too.
Catherine had said that he could visit-- but the no touching rule would be in full force. He’d caused enough trouble when he’d disobeyed and touched her when they had been on the plantation. In fact, he was fairly positive he was the cause of all of this. Maybe if he hadn’t interrupted whatever he’d interrupted that night on the haunted as fuck plantation, Catherine wouldn’t have been in the state that she was in now. It was all a domino effect, and he had been the clumsy fuck to knock over the first one.
Hesitating a moment at her front door, Callum reached up to unlock it before he started up the couple of steps to carefully--cautiously let himself inside. “Catherine?” He gave a curiously look around once he’d made it inside, and gently pushed the door closed behind him.
He was in jeans and a plain black t-shirt, his hair was mussed, he was quite a bit scruffy, and there were dark circles under his eyes that indicated he was still not getting enough sleep… but it was true, even in his current hungover state, he was clearly a fuck of a lot better off than Catherine.
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“Shhh,” Catherine hushed him from her bed, before murmuring more to herself as she continued to write in the journal that he’d left, “Didst see a little yellow bird… Little yellow bird…” Her hands were stained with pen ink and graphite from her pencils. The leather bound journal he’d left just the day before was already a third full with rambling and scribbled drawings - none as good as the one that had been on her post. That… That hadn’t been her. She hadn’t drawn that. Or had she? She couldn’t remember. There was blood streaked on her forearms from the small nosebleeds that kept cropping up every so often.
She clearly wasn’t taking care of herself. Her curls were a knotted mess and she hadn’t changed her clothes in at least 36-hours, still in her sleeping things which consisted of sleep shorts and a tank top when Callum wasn’t around. It was questionable whether she’d even eaten. The most on her stomach was a little wine that Elia had offered her in the darkness. And her eyes were red from crying - along with her severe sleep deprivation. Near her feet was a second journal, black with pages edged in red. Likely not something he’d ever seen before unless he’d dug deep into her possessions.
“You’re going to need confession, boy,” she muttered though this time it actually was directed at Callum. She was probably the only person in the world that would ever call him ‘boy’. “And contrition,” now she looked at him, frowning, “Elia said it best. Give the demon an inch, she’ll take an empire. Only thing that was ever mine and mine alone.”
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He worried his bottom lip with his teeth, blue eyes moving over her in the dimly lit trailer. His brows furrowed as he turned a bit more toward her, but hesitated in moving any closer.
He didn't know what she was talking about...
She was furiously writing in the journal he'd left for her.. but he wasn't sure if he liked that she'd already used up a third of it. Noticing the blood streaked along her forearms, he glanced down, shifting his weight to his good knee as he brought a hand up to drag over his face before it settled over his mouth.
He'd never gone through Catherine's things. They were her's and they belonged to her. He'd never felt like it'd be right to go looking deep into her possessions. He'd looked at her books a time or two, but she'd said that he could. That was the extent of it, really.
His brows furrowed when she spoke more directly to him. Dropping his hand away from his mouth, his lips parted in a silent gasp, really. When she said that he needed contrition, he glanced downward, giving a gentle shake of his head. Was he embarrassed? yeah. Guilty? Fuck yes.
Reaching across, he rubbed at his shoulder as he lifted his gaze back up to Catherine, "I..I'm sorry, yeah? I didn't mean to hurt you, Cat, I.." he tilted his head from side to side and dropped his focus back down, "'m fuckin' stupid and I didn't know-- didn't fuckin' realize. I-it's like.. It's like being hot, yeah? In a hot place, and you," he smiled sadly, briefly, "get Conor to make an ice castle or some shit. O-or you wanna go have a fucking picnic under the Aurora Borealis with the new girl you just met when she passed out and hit her head on the midway, so..so. you go the magic stargazer tent. What's the bloody difference between magic a-and that? I mean.. How are you supposed to know? 'm sorry, Cat.. I made a horrible mistake. I wasn't trying to hurt you, I swear on my mum's grave," he brought his hand back up to set over his heart as he looked across at her. "I swear." ------
Catherine gave him a look that said she wasn’t entirely happy about him comparing one of their picnics to what he had done with that thing. There was a difference. “The difference is entirely simple. She’s a demon. They aren’t nice. They don’t do kind things - it might look like they are but there’s no kindness in them. It’s all self-serving or out of boredom. After seeing me with something in my head, I can’t even begin to understand why you would let something in willingly.”
But she believed that he had just made a mistake. She knew that he was uneducated in the ways of the supernatural. Catherine just wasn’t sure how to forgive him. Now he had Janis in his head. How much would she disappoint him? “You… Owe me contrition.” She hadn’t meant a priest before. She had meant her. She’d made him beg before but that was for fun. Now he needed to find a way to earn forgiveness and she just wasn’t sure what it would take.
But instead of further conversation, her head fell backward and her eyes rolled back, eyelids fluttering. It wasn’t a seizure and it was over very briefly. She let her head fall forward again and started scribbling all over again, rocking back-and-forth slightly. “So tired,” she returned to muttering, “So fucking tired… Can’t deal with any of this right.”
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It wasn't that he was comparing one of their picnics to what he had done with Namah... He was comparing the magic and the fucking Force or whatever voodoo it was that Namah used. "I.. I wasn't thinking about that. I wasn't thinking. I was tired. Exhausted. my fuckin' dreams felt like they were real, and I just said yeah, sure. I wasn't thinking about.. about Namah being like what was on that plantation.. I just.. I thought.. I-I don't know what I thought." he glanced back down, ashamed that he'd been so ignorant. He was very uneducated in the ways of the supernatural, and he'd made a dumb mistake.
"Christ..." he gently shook his head and moved to step closer, carefully kneeling down beside her bed, his hands at the edge of her mattress, to keep from touching her. It was difficult. He wanted to so much. "Catherine.. Bloody anything, yeah? I-I'm sorry.. I want to make it right. I don't like being like this.. I love you. A-and.." he blinked, his voice trailing off as he watched Catherine's head fall backward and her eyes roll back.
His brows furrowed, his eyes searching her with worry. Curling his fingers into a tight grip on her blankets, he did his best not to reach out and touch her. She'd told him not to. And he wasn't the brightest, but he'd learned the hard way about not interrupting whatever was going on with her. Her visions.
straightening up somewhat when Catherine's head fell forward again, and she immediately began scribbling in the journal again, rocking back and forth, he gave another shake of his head. He was so very confused.
He hesitated, "Cat--Catherine.." he carefully reached out to set his fingers to the edge of the journal, "Catherine?" ------
She was just writing numbers as they came to her, murmuring them with the same sort of cadence one of those strange number stations would have but then his fingers were there in her view and she looked at them. Her expression fell as if it could get any more miserable in that moment. Then, for a moment, it looked like she was about to fall asleep but she forced her eyes open wide, taking in a deep breath. Right. They were having a conversation. She brought her hand up and smacked her own cheek to really wake herself up, shaking her head vigorously after.
“The fact,” she finally started, “That you say you love me is what makes it so much worse. You didn’t even try to find an alternative to a demon mucking about in your head. It never even occurred to you. You didn’t even ask me if I could think of something to help you. Didn’t even tell me you were having nightmares first.” There were a lot of things that he should have done differently, that they both could have done differently. Now they were in this spot and she didn’t know how to fix it - or tell him how to fix it.
“I don’t know what to do but I do know, it’s not going to get better while we’re here. Something bad is building up and we’re all fucked if we don’t move soon,” she rubbed the page of the journal and the ink smeared. She made a whining noise as if that wasn’t acceptable but there was nothing to be done about it.
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Callum jumped when Catherine's hand connected with her cheek, and he instinctively reached out to try and stop her from doing it again or anything like it-- but stopped himself just shy of touching her. Awkwardly hesitating, he quickly pulled his hand back again.
Callum's brows furrowed and he lowered his gaze, quietly listening to her. "Y-you were busy.." he reached up to run at his brow, "I thought you knew.. it's-- I.. it doesn't matter. I did it. It was a stupid decision and I'm sorry. Cat, please.." he looked back up at her, blue eyes searching her, looking her over, making note of the blood, the way her hair was all wild and what not. Her eyes were.. she had a very distant, crazed look. His brows pushed together again and he looked back down. She'd had the occasional nosebleed or seizure here and there before they'd gotten together. He tried to keep in mind that he wasn't always with her, then, so he didn't really know.. but it felt like ever since he'd invaded her life more, things had just gone to shit. As soon as they 'got together', as it were, Catherine was no longer the sarcastic, tongue-in-cheek Irish woman that hassled him with that mischievous smile that he fucking adored. Maybe it was him. Maybe werewolves and seers weren't meant to be together. Supernatural bullshit and all of that.
His brows furrowed even more at the whining, and he reached out to set his hand over the page as he leaned in more to try and catch Catherine's gaze, "I do love you. I'm not just saying it. I don't know if you-- Catherine can understand me, or-or process what I'm saying at the moment, yeah? But I'm a fuck up. I always have been. I just didn't mean to fuck up with you. I made a mistake. A-and if I can't get the bloody circus to leave now, I'll find a way to get you out of here, okay?" ------
Catherine hadn’t changed. She had simply become a victim of circumstances that she couldn’t control and that alone would drive her crazy - not to this level, of course. A more figurative crazy. She needed a tight control because of things like this. She had told him that she would eventually go mad - who knew it would be so soon? She prayed that as soon as they left Danvers, her mind would calm down. Things could go back to normal… Only they never would, would they? He had seen this and it wouldn’t surprise her if he ran. He had the perfect excuse now, didn’t he?
Her eyebrows furrowed together as he blocked the page with his hand. She set down her pen, chin trembling as she fought to avoid his eyes, “You say my name like it isn’t me. This isn’t some separate entity like your wolf. The visions are me. The madness is what I will become - or am becoming.” Breaking her own rule, which was not there because he would induce another series of visions but only because she didn’t want him touching her right now, she reached out to take his hand in both of hers, sandwiched between them. Her fingertips ran along the backs of his and the callouses of his fingertips felt rough on her palm. Then she brought his hand up to her cheek, holding it there.
“But you have whatever she put in your head now,” she lamented, “And I can’t live up to that…” There was definitely a sense of inadequacy and then out of nowhere, her face contorted into a mask of misery and she started crying all over again.
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"Tha's not true.. they're not you. That-that night on the plantation.. you weren't you, Cat. You weren't. It was you, but it wasn't." His brows furrowed with focus when she reached out to take his hand into her own. He kept still, watching as she pet her fingers along the backs of his own. Swallowing hard when she lifted his hand up to press against her cheek, it made his heart ache, really. He loved her and he wanted her to be okay, and she clearly wasn't!!
"No," he managed gruffly, "no, that's not true.." he blinked, sitting back a little more when she burst into tears, "I-I want it out. I didn't like it and I want it out. I'm sorry.. please, Cat," he moved to hold his other hand out toward her, opening his arms to her as if to offer her a hug? Fuck, he didn't know. He was scared to touch her. He didn't want to touch her unless it was okay. Maybe she could touch him, but what if he still couldn't touch her.
"I want to help.. whatever Namah did, I didn't like it, and I told her no more. I didn't mean to hurt you.. and I don't like seeing you like--like this.. let me help? What can I do to help?" ------
She wouldn’t argue with him about it. The visions were not like the wolf. The wolf had its own personality while the visions just were there. But it was true that she wasn’t okay and right now, she didn’t know how to be. Want it out? He wanted it out? Her eyebrows furrowed together, confused by what he meant. Did he want to forget? “Issac--” she started but then paused, frowning deeply. Issac could make him forget but that wouldn’t necessarily help them.
Catherine didn’t hug him but she did put her one now free hand in his, fingers twined together, “What do you mean? What do you mean you didn’t like it? Surely you enjoyed the dreams.” He was a man. Of course, he did, on some level. So she really needed to know. What did he mean? Was it like--But she didn’t even want to think that. Because if she was putting him through Hell and it was like that, then she was the villain, wasn’t she?
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He let his eyes continue to search her face, her expression, everything as he focused on her and everything that she was doing. At least until she laced her fingers with his own, instead of getting too close to him. His brows pushed together some, and he bit at his lip, looking over toward their hands. Curling his fingers more firmly around her own, though not too tightly, he lifted blue eyes back to find her's.
Hesitating, he nodded gently, "yes.. I-I mean.. while they were happening, while I was dreaming, I was with you, a-and then I wasn't.. and then I was, and--" his brows knitted with frustration and he dropped his gaze again, but he kept his hand at her cheek and the other in her hand. "while I was dreaming, I was with you, and I wanted to be with you, and I was blissful. But.." he shook his head, "it wasn't always just you-- and-- and when I woke up, I didn't feel any better than I had before I fell asleep. I felt worse," he shifted his weight as he looked back up at her, "unhappy, and more tired than I had been.. I didn't feel right, it didn't make me feel good... and all I wanted to do was see you." He glanced back down again, closing his eyes tightly, "it didn't help.. just that.. that I didn't wake up feeling like I'd just spent my night reliving my shit childhood.. the nightmares, they're so.. so fucking real. I was me, a-and, I was here. With you. Or I was.. was in my trailer, and then here he'd fucking be, Cat." He looked back up at her, "I'm sorry." He squeezed her hand, "I'm sorry.. I didn't know what to do and I just said yes to the first thing.." ------
Catherine breathed a heavy sigh as she listened, jaw tensing over and over. She was still incredibly sad but her anger was draining and leaving her even more exhausted than before. And for a moment, her attention wavered - shadows in the corners of her kitchen. But they weren’t really there. She was hallucinating from her lack of sleep. It was an inappropriate moment to yawn but she did it anyway and settled back against her pillows, stretching out her legs. Those too had ink smears on them from rubbing her hands on them. Even Callum’s fingers would have ink and graphite on them now.
“Lay your head in my lap,” she ordered softly, “It’s going to take time for me to fully forgive you and trust you again. You know that, right?” And Catherine wasn’t sure when it could start properly. Danvers needed to be behind them or under control. One of the two. “But for now, just lay your head down. And we’ll try to be very, very quiet and I’ll try very, very hard not to be a total mess…”
----- He honestly hadn't meant to hurt Catherine. He wished he could make her see that. He wished that she would believe him. Blinking when Catherine's attention drifted, he curiously canted his head a little, watching her. She yawned, but he didn't mind. He knew she was tired. She needed sleep, she needed rest.
For the record, it wasn't like Callum's hands weren't already always covered in graphite and ink. He spent a lot of time drawing in his sketchbook and was often a little smudgy here and there. He watched her stretch out and lay back against her pillows, letting his hand slip away from her cheek as she did. He carefully reached for her journal, closing it so that he could move it to place next to her bed. Still within reach for her, of course. He wasn't trying to take it away. He was just setting it aside for her.
He nodded gently, "I.." he looked down, "I do.. I know..I..I'll do whatever it takes." he looked back up at her, motioning toward the bed, "can I?" staying on the floor wasn't really ideal, considering he had already been on his bad knee for too long. "I just.. " He slowly pushed himself up enough to crawl onto the bed with her, before he settled down beside her so that he could lay his head in her lap, and bring his arm around her hips to hold her close.
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There was a hint of panic in her face when he moved the journal and her fingers twitched like she wanted to snatch it again but she was having a rare moment when the visions were a little quieter and she could ignore them. They were repeats - the same old shit at a different time. She’d written it all down already. If he had moved the black one though, still lying there untouched, then she would have had a right fit about it. That one was not for him.
She nodded slightly at his question. Him joining her had been the whole point of the statement. Catherine knew he couldn’t stay on the floor much longer. And he took the position she had wanted without her even having to properly ask. Her fingers immediately went into his hair, petting him idly. It was a comforting thing for both of them, she hoped. And though she had said something about being quiet, sang quietly under her breath, the words a very old lullaby that her mother had sung to her long, long ago. Catherine didn’t know how effective it would be, if at all, but she was going to try and it gave her something else to focus on.
----- Callum hadn't meant to make Catherine look so panicked. He wasn't taking anything away, he was just moving it to the side so that she wouldn't fall asleep on it or anything like that.
Curling his arms around her better, and nuzzling and snuggling in close, he rested his head in her lap. As soon as Catherine's fingers feathered through his messy curls, Callum couldn't help but let his eyes flutter shut. And her song-- her soft, soothing voice! It made him smile softly and tighten his arms around her in a hug as he nuzzled in more against her thigh. Of course, it was comforting! Catherine had to know that it was. She knew what having her fingers in his hair did to him. He just hoped that this was as comforting and calming for Catherine as it was for him.
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She knew he wasn’t trying to make her panic but it was easy to do right now. Still, she let him snuggle in and kept petting his curls as she sang him a lullaby. She was fairly certain that he was never going to let her go at this rate but he would have to eventually. After a long moment, she dropped off on a verse and stared at her door for a long moment. “Someone’s coming later… I’ll handle anyone who comes. You try to sleep. If the bad things come, I’ll wake you up. We can weather the storm. We can always weather the storm.”
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He had originally come to see her-- to check on her, to take care of her. But clearly things had taken a bit of a turn, and Catherine was very much the one that was taking care of him. Some guard dog he was! As soon as her fingers tangled in his hair, he melted.
He drifted, but that couldn't be helped, what with the lullaby, the petting, and so on. And Catherine was correct in assuming that he was never going to let go, at that rate.. At least until he dozed off. "Hm?" he hummed softly at her mention of someone coming by later. But Callum was already too far gone. He'd been exhausted-- though, not nearly as much as poor Catherine. She was just a much stronger person than he was. But that didn't mean she didn't still need taking care of too.
He nodded a little but drifted still. If he got some rest while Catherine's visions and thoughts were a bit calmer, maybe he could look after her better, once they got bad again? Regardless, yes. They could weather the storm together. Callum would be there by her side for as long as she'd let him, he'd long since made up his mind.