Who: Cleo and Hathor When: Lunchtime Where: U of M campus
Hathor still hadn't looked into local daycare centers, and when her lunch hour came, the thought was heavy on her mind. A neighbor had been looking after the twins, but the kind, little old lady's patience was starting to wear thin. The twins could be quite rambunctious, and when Hathor's morning class let out there had been a message waiting for her that they had broken something rather irreplaceable and expensive. Joy. Hathor would repay the woman as best she could, but she was going to have to make daycare a priority. Oh, how she hated the concept. It was so... American.
Heading outside, she decided to take her lunch on campus, sitting at the first picnic table she came across. She was quite used to eating a packed lunch, despite being in a position to buy something whenever she wanted. Screw it. Daycare. What a horrible concept.
Cleo's class wasn't starting until the fall semester, but she'd been making little forays into Ann Arbor to both check out the campus and help make sure their glassmaking equipment was up to date for when she began instructing. She'd had a meeting with the art department's head; it let out just before lunch and Cleo decided to just stay on campus and grab something, since she'd be working with their procurement department to figure out the types of sands and other ingredients she'd want that would fit within her university-provided budget.
She fought her way through the Subway line - who knew college kids loved fresh sandwiches so much? - and headed outside for some space to eat. All the tables she saw were occupied, however, so she picked the closest one - occupied by a cool-looking lady with closely-shorn hair - and headed over. "What say," she greeted cheerfully as she approached, the South African slang coming out without a thought. "Mind if I grab a seat? It's hella busy today."
In all honesty, Hathor was very close to saying no. She was having an internal debate to herself, and would have much preferred that than to smalltalk with some stranger, but the accent stopped her. She opened her mouth to reply, and promptly paused. She tilted her head to the side as she stared at at the woman, curious and a touch confused, as she waited for the scent (or rather, taste) to settle on her tongue. Great gods, she's a lamia. What were the bloody odds? Finally, Hathor smiled, gesturing before her. "Please," she invited. "Have a seat."
Cleo tried to avoid doing much scenting of the air around college kids - or at least the kind she usually hung around, who tended to smell overwhelmingly of patchouli and body odor; a mix like that could scum up her tongue and linger in the back of her throat all damn day. But as she was subjected to the perusal that was rather unusual for simply asking if she could share a bench, her mouth dropped open just that little, instinctive bit, capturing air molecules to press against the gland in the top of her mouth that translated scent. "Oweh," she breathed on an exhale, a wide grin spreading over her face, and she promptly dropped down next to the exotic-featured woman. "What a crazy coincidence, right?" she marveled.
"You could say that," Hathor grinned. "And the very last thing I expected to find here, I admit." At least she wasn't the only one who had been stupid enough to decide to try and brave the Michigan weather. It was alright now, but she knew the summer would be damnably short. "What a pleasant surprise. Been here long?"
"Little over a month," Cleo said, "and doubles on that, sister, I thought I was the only one dumb enough to come this far north." Sure, she'd spent time in Washington, but it was near the coast, which gave it a little bit of a milder winter than here in the damn center of the country. More or less. "How about you?" she asked. "I'm Cleo, by the way. Super great to meet you."
"Hathor," Hathor introduced herself, offering a hand. "A pleasure. It's been a little over a week now... I thought I was ready for it, after Britain, but I don't think I rightly was. We'll see if I last until winter." Or if her children was. She still wasn't sure what they would think of the snow. They 'ooh'ed and 'ahh'ed at it in the movies, but to experience it personally was an entirely different thing. "Whereabouts in South Africa are you from?"
"I did some time up in Washington," Cleo shared. "If you get one of those sunlamp things they use in Alaska and the like it wasn't so bad, but I've never seen a winter here. I have a feeling I won't be leaving my apartment at all if I can help it." But she would have to if she was going to be teaching in the fall; semester wasn't over until December and that meant she'd be bundled up thicker than the Michelin Man anytime she set foot outside. She grinned when Hathor pegged her accent. "Cape Town," she said. "What about you? British, of course, but... a little something extra? I can't place it."
"I'm waiting to see how long before the novelty wears off and my children beg me to go back to some place normal and decent," Hathor grinned, sipping briefly from her bottled tea. "Egypt," she answered. "I was mostly raised in Britain, but my mother didn't even speak English when we moved there. Some of the accent stuck with me." Which, honestly, Hathor was happy to have. She was very proud of her home country, she was happy to take every little bit that stuck with her. "So what brings you to this sunshine forsaken place?"
"And we're from the same continent," Cleo marveled again, laughing. "That's unbelievable." The odds of two such as they meeting in Michigan, of all places, was utterly mind-boggling. Cleo would have to call or email her parents to share; they'd be tickled. "I'll actually be teaching here in the fall," she said, nodding towards the art building. "Glassblowing, flame-worked glass. I have a shop in Scarlet Oak. You?"
"I just bought a house in Scarlet Oak," Hathor grinned. "I'll have to stop in someday. I'm taking over Egyptian studies. The former professor had a heart attack, it seems." This was so bizarre. But so beyond welcome. She'd been certain she and her children would be all alone out here. "Do you have family in the area?"
"No, they're all back in Cape Town," Cleo said, shaking her head. "My sister's talked about coming out, but hasn't actually done it yet. She might decide it's smarter to stay where it's warm. I can't say I'd blame her." It would be nice to have family around, though. "What about you? You'll all have to come over for dinner sometime." She unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite, brows raising as she thought of something she'd meant to offer. "By the way," she said after swallowing, "if you or your little ones are close--" She knew Hathor would know she meant the moult. "--and need a hookup, I've got a couple connections." While not loud about it, she also wasn't terribly concerned about anyone overhearing. They'd have no idea what she meant unless also lamiae themselves.
"Sad. No, it's just me and my twins," Hathor answered, pausing briefly to pull her wallet out of her purse and fish out a picture. "My little darlings," she grinned, offering it up. "Hadrian and Sabina." Terrors, was more like it, but they were supposed to be at that age. She raised an eyebrow at the offer, clearly appreciative. "Thankfully they got it out of their system just before the move. I had been worried I might have to push things back. But that's an offer I may take you up on in the future. As far as connections go, I have yet to make any here." Which she would have to see to. After she took care of this daycare ridiculousness.
Cleo took the photo and studied her twins, grinning. "They're adorable," she pronounced as she handed it back. "How old are they?" Something one might wonder about Hathor herself, but it was never polite to ask. She didn't look terribly old, but when one lived twice as long as a normal human, that wasn't saying much. "I'll give you my card," she said, reaching into her bag to do just that. "Drop me a line, phone or email, and I'll send you a contact. "Very discreet." She grimaced sympathetically. "I'm glad you didn't have any hiccups," she said. "Thankfully I'm down to two a year, but I remember what a hell it was when I was little. I don't know how my mother handled two of us. Your patience must be legendary."
"They'll be four on the 8th," Hathor answered. "So I still have a birthday party to pull out of my ass. Horned vipers, both of them," she said proudly. She hadn't quite figured out how she was going to manage that party. If she caved in to this daycare notion, she could invite some of the children they met there. That would be a start. When Hathor put the picture away, she removed a card with her own information to exchange with Cleo. "Well I wasn't alone in it until very recently. I admit, it's a challenge. Back home they had a nanny, someone like us," Subtle hint there, "But I doubt that will be possible here. And there was my husband, who passed in December." In way of an explanation, she spoke the Afrikaans word for hunter, managing to hold some of the venom out of her tone.
"Horned vipers?" Cleo echoed, grinning as she slipped Hathor's card into her bag. "Oh, my god, they've got to be so adorable." When they changed to little baby snakes, she meant. Not terribly venomous, but who cared when they were so cute? She'd planned to ask what Hathor was next, but was sidetracked by the rest of her story. Anger lit her eyes and she had to fight the urge to hiss and display her fangs. "I'm sorry for your loss," she said sincerely. Her husband, jesus. "Is he dead?" This, referring to the hunter, of course. If anyone had ever come after Cleo's family, she'd have no compunction about taking care of it. One bite and it was over.
"They're precious," Hathor confirmed, with a wide grin. Their venom was enough to slow an attacker down, at least, and cause discomfort. And it went without saying that her children would know how to defend themselves. "Oh, quite," she answered Cleo's question, tone only slightly bitter. "Yes, I saw to that. And after, I wanted a change of scenery for the children. I certainly didn't want to stay in that area, and I didn't want them to, either."
"Completely understandable," Cleo said, some of the hardness in her eyes easing at the knowledge. She'd been fully prepared to make a call back home on Hathor's behalf - the communes where she'd spent her first ten years were still going strong for childbearing lamiae. Someone there would have had the contacts or ability to find the hunter had he not already been dealt with. Their species was scarce enough without allowing idiot humans to pick them off for accessories.
"I can't say that life here will be any more peaceful," she mentioned, frowning slightly. "There's a lot of supernatural acceptance here, but just as much opposition. And the town's high concentration of supernaturals continually draws media attention."
"So I hear," Hathor replied, with a slight frown. "But, I liked the idea of any 'oddness' not sticking out quite so much." When she spoke again, she slipped back into the Afrikaans tongue. "I don't think anyone will bat an eye at passing for a were. Keep my children indoors on the night of the full moon, easily done and assumed. I like that option of an alibi."
Cleo slipped effortlessly back into Afrikaans herself, enjoying the opportunity to speak the language so far from home. "I try to keep to human, myself," she said, "but were would be a good second choice. I stay in on full moons just to keep that available, myself." Because no way would she be able to claim she was a were if someone had previously seen her out on the full moon. "What species are you?" she asked curiously, wondering if the children took after their mother or not.
"I would try for human, if it were only me," Hathor agreed. "But the twins play rough. Were is a convenient explanation." She smiled pleasantly at the mention of species, always having been quite proud of her own. "Egyptian Cobra," she answered. "And yourself?"
"Black mamba," Cleo answered with a similar pride. She'd figured they wouldn't be in the same family based on the children - usually families tended to produce the same overall snake family, even if species was different.
"Very impressive," Hathor replied, grinning widely. "I admit, I had at least in part hoped the twins would take after me - they were born in the right area - but they just turned out so cute. The horns suit them so. I can't help but be proud. I sometimes wish for something more venomous, but they're fearsome little devils. They'll do fine."
"And you," Cleo complimented in return. She grinned. "The horns are truly adorable, I've always loved seeing them." She went back to eating, chuckling a little to herself as she chewed and swallowed. "Plus, most attackers won't know what to do with them when they go natural," she pointed out. "That few seconds of surprise are invaluable for either attack or escape." In her case, it would always be 'attack.' But then, her venom could kill a man in fifteen minutes. All it took was one bite.
"Indeed, in many cases it will be all they need." As it often was in Hathor's case, though not always. Her bite was also lethal, though in her case not always what she used. A rash of victims dead of snake bites would not look good, and while she knew that alone wouldn't be enough to point the finger in her direction, still better not to tempt fate.
"Well, I'll shoot my sister an email tonight," Cleo offered. "See if she's decided whether or not to come over. If she does, maybe she'll be interested in your nanny job." It was probably the best chance Hathor had of finding a lamia to watch her kids that didn't have to be imported.
"I would greatly appreciate that, thank you," Hathor replied, smiling brightly. "Or feel free to pass the word around, should you run into others of our kind. I would be happy to put up any who feel up to the task in my home, I have plenty of room. We have to stick together, after all," she grinned.
"If I run into any others," Cleo promised, "I'll let them know. We do indeed need to look after each other. It won't stay this warm forever." She grinned, balling up the trash of her finished sandwich. "Well, Hathor," she said, "it's been an unexpected pleasure meeting you, but I've got another meeting that I should be getting on to. I live right above my shop, though, so feel free to stop by anytime for a chat."
"I will," Hathor assured Cleo, still smiling. "Call me anytime. I'm glad we could meet." It did serve to warm a bit of hope in her heart. At least she had confirmation there were other adult lamiae in the state. Who knew what was to come.