Who: Brea, Jane, & Silas What: Silas called Jane to look at Brea. Where: Aubade When: Night after bank robbery Warnings: None
Jane had been very upset since the day before. She’d almost forgotten about the whole thing she’d set up with Silas, especially when she got a good look at Daryl. She’d gone to the hospital, and the fact that her flatmate had been shot. She had half a mind to sedate the woman and leave her tied to her bed in the apartment, just to make sure she didn’t go anywhere. That was hardly the proper way to deal with anything, but sometimes Jane did believe she had to protect Daryl from herself. She needed a break from the dark line of thinking, which was why she’d managed to pull herself together long enough to make it over to the Aubade. It’d been a while since she’d been there, the last during her visit of Thomas the morning after his initial check-up.
This time she’d been invited by Silas, and she couldn’t help but wonder who it was that he was calling her to see. She knew exactly where he was located, having slipped out of the apartment in the middle of the night enough times. He never seemed to mind it.
She arrived, little black bag in hand. It was all for show, per usual, but she wanted to make sure her little secret wasn’t completely exposed. Only a few people knew about it, Silas was amazingly not one of them considering how much alcohol she’d consumed around him. Stepping into the lobby, she looked at her watch. As much as she didn’t want to leave Daryl alone, the woman had to make a little more money than she was making at the clinic if she wanted to continue to buy nice things. Well, they were nice things in her opinion.
Lifting her cellphone, she sent a text to Silas letting him know she’d arrived. Silas had gotten into Aubade quite easily. He’d taken Richard’s form, a form he knew very well, and he’d waved at the doorman and acted like he belonged in the impressive building, as if he was made for it. His clothing was designer, but hardly the quality of anything Richard owned. Black slacks and a green sweater with a black leather jacket overtop.
He had walked through the lobby and down the first floor hall, and then he’d changed back with hardly a thought. When he’d first begun changing it had been a time consuming affair, something long and drawn out that required concentration and energy. Now, it was like walking, something thoughtless and taken for granted. He’d changed into everyone he could think of at first, learning limitations, and he’d spent more time than he wanted to imagine as Maud.
He shook the thought from his head, and he rolled his shoulders to ease away the tension. It was the day after the bank robbery, but he was still slightly shaken up by the occurrence, and it showed in the lines around his eyes and mouth. He slipped his hand into his pocket, and he pulled out the weighted poker chip he carried, the one that was always with him, feeling it without setting it anywhere to teeter. He knew he wasn’t dreaming; he didn’t need the validation.
When his cellphone vibrated in his pocket, he pulled it out and grinned. Jane, punctual as ever. Miss me, darling? he texted, even as he walked into the lobby and up behind her. “Aren’t we quite out of place?” he asked over her shoulder, voice very near to her ear. Jane couldn't disagree with Silas about being out of place. She wasn't born into money and wasn't very good at faking it. There was a lack of comfort, something clearly missing in her stride when she walked. She had confidence, but hardly the kind that could be credited to a trust fund.
"Possibly," she said turning her head toward the voice, only to spot his face not too far from her own. It was comforting in it's own way, the familiarity of him, but there wasn't anything that said she was going to be around for anything more than business in her tone. She didn't like the idea of leaving Daryl behind, mainly because the girl was stupid, but she figured this would be a quick in and out job. There wouldn't be much time for her to get into any trouble. She was kidding herself and she knew it, but she'd be able to get back quick enough to get a good head start on wherever Daryl might have run off too.
"What exciting place are you taking me today?" “Upstairs, darling,” Silas said, picking up her cues and motioning toward the elevator. He was quiet until they were inside, and he pushed the fourth floor button and watched her at the same time. “It’s a young girl,” he said. “She says she can’t go near the light, something to do with her vision and her abilities. I’ve a need to know if it’s true, or if she’s being held prisoner.” He said it like it was a perfectly normal thing to want to find out, and like it hardly mattered one way or the other. “Darling,” he added a moment later, “we’ve enough tumbles behind us for me to know something is wrong.” It was an invitation at confidences, but not a demand of any sort.
When the elevator doors opened, he let her exit first, and he walked to 403 and knocked once. “Brea, poppet, it’s Silas. I’ve a friend with me. Do open up.” Within, there was the indistinct sound of voices, too rhythmic to be anything but a music recording or, as the sound trailed away and picked up again at intervals, the radio. There was a scuffling sound after the first knock, and then silence, but there was an obvious shifting of space beyond the door, the faint sound of pressure on the carpet just beyond. Brea listened closely to her visitors for a moment. The peephole was sealed, the window that Silas had broken had been aggressively, if haphazardly, fixed. After a moment’s pause, the soft, rough little voice said, cautiously, “I’m not supposed to open the door.” Jane wasn't sure what to make of Silas knowing a young girl. She knew even less of what to make of her not being able to go out into the light. "Does she have night vision or something?" She didn't know what kind of questions to ask, but she knew that the goggles hurt when you turned the light on. The thought of her being held prisoner also sent up a few red flags in her mind. What the hell was she walking into? Did she not bring the right equipment. She had half a mind to dig the expandable baton out of the bottom of her bag in case she got attacked. She wasn't exactly sure how Silas would hold up, but she knew as long as he didn't try to get in front of her, they'd be golden.
Jane bristled visibly at being called out for being distant. It lasted a moment before she relaxed. She turned her attention to him for a moment, and he'd be able to see it. She was just tired and something had sapped the energy right out of her. If they hadn't had those tumbles and he'd hadn't seen her so exposed in those intimate moments, she wouldn't have let him see her in that way. "Later."
When the doors opened, she followed him out into the hall and to the door where he knocked. She hadn't expected the small voice to come out of it the way that it had. She leaned close to Silas and lowered her voice. "Who exactly lives with her?" “She lives quite alone,” Silas whispered, ducking his head so the words didn’t carry to the girl on the other side of the door. Then, he spoke again, this time louder and entirely for Brea’s benefit. “Poppet, do open up. We won’t tell Stephen I’ve come. Jane is a doctor, one who treats Creations, and she’d very much like to meet you.” He paused, waited a beat. “You know you can trust me, darling,” he added. The muffled voice got a little higher with concern that tried for stern, missed, and veered toward panic. “Doctors can’t help, I told you.” She was right up against the door now and there was a very tiny crack that she wasn’t blocking because she didn’t want to look out into the relative spotlight of the hallway. She was trying to get an idea of who Jane was without actually looking into the light, and failing miserably. "Silas is just worried for you. If you let us in, I'd only be a minute." Jane was trying to make her voice sound as pleasant as possible. "If I can't help you, I can probably find someone who can. You can just let me know what the problem is." Jane liked to believe she'd developed somewhat of a network through her patients. While many preferred privacy, she wouldn't be opposed to asking a few choice questions here or there. Silas let Jane talk a moment, in the hopes that a soothing female voice would prove more harmless seeming than he did. “Darling,” he said, once Jane was quiet. “Jane isn’t a normal sort of doctor.” He put his hand on the door, running his fingertips along the small crack. “Do you not want to see me, Brea? I’d like to ensure you’re well. You can make us tea,” he added, because he was very obviously trying terribly hard to get into the apartment.
He looked over at Jane, and he gave her his best apologetic look, one she would have seen during the first few nights they’d spent together, before he realized she wasn’t looking for long-term any more than he was. “Her brother doesn’t let her have visitors,” he mouthed. There was a brief pause and a shifting of shadows over the seconds as Brea shifted foot to foot, trying to decide what to do. “Okay. Just for a little while.” The door shut all the way again--gently, to save searching fingers--and then a series of locks were loosed before Brea stepped back behind the door to protect herself from the rectangle of light from the hallway. The apartment within was completely black, utterly without even the dim little oven light she kept lit for Stephen. The hall briefly cast warm shadows over deep plush and books and a great deal of accumulated stuff that was a kitschy collection of everything. Jane watched him curiously as he attempted to coax the girl into letting them into the apartment. She couldn't help but furrow her brows at the apologetic expression. Tilting her head slightly, her attention was returned to the door as she it was closed again. The sound of the locks being undone had made Jane even more curious as to find out what was happening inside. When she was finally allowed access, she wasn't sure if she should've felt confused by what she saw. It was a little bizarre at how normal everything was, but she wasn't sure just how strange she had expected it to be.
Reality was hardly ever as amazing as what one's imagination could dream of. In a way, she was relieved that everything appeared to be so normal. The only thing that seemed off, that she could tell right off the bat was how dark it was. "Thank you." Her voice was soft. She didn't feel right speaking any louder in the dark. Silas walked into the apartment without even the slightest hint of hesitation, worried that Brea would change her mind if they lingered in the hall too long. He looked her over in the dark, looking for any signs of violence that might have resulted from his last visit, any signs of Stephen taking his anger out on her, and finding none, his shoulders relaxed and his smile widened, deepened. He looked honestly happy to see her, and he reached out and touched her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. “Poppet, this is Jane.” Brea’s attention was briefly centered on Silas as the two entered, and the residual light from the hallway eliminated her quite well in the short time she had the door open. Despite her soft, hesitant voice, Brea was a young woman, possessed of wide eyes and a cherubic face, and her hair was a warm chestnut that curled pleasantly about her face. There was an identifiable sense of innocence about her, and it was enhanced by the look she gave Silas, which strongly resembled that of young puppies who wait on the threshold for you to get home. When her eyes moved away from Silas, however, the round disc somewhere behind her pupils caught the light and the iridescence slid across the strange round eyes in a flash of cat-like attention. She shut the door a second after, and the apartment was cast in temporary pitch blackness until their eyes adjusted.
In that short time she had crossed the distance between herself and Jane until she was only about two or three inches from her, peering up into her face with an expression so intent that it didn’t take a lot of light to make it obvious. “Hello,” she said softly, looking down from her face at the bag she was carrying and the clothes she was wearing, curious, searching. She smelled like cheerful strawberries and wore her usual mismatch of strange colors, this time in a layered skirt and short-sleeved shirt. Jane wasn't expecting the girl to get so close, but she didn't move back. "Hello." She would've offered a hand, but the girl was far too close to do that. Instead, she just waited patiently for everyone to settle. She wasn't particularly fond of dark places, but the girl looked harmless enough. The way she held herself, the small voice, and the gentle way she dressed made Jane picture her as a rather delicate creature.
"It's nice to meet you, Brea." The tone she used now was one she used with the children at the clinic. She couldn't place just what it was about the girl, but she arrested her attention, almost as if she were seeing something rare. It wasn't her intention to stare, and so she stopped herself from doing so. When her eyes lowered to her bag, she lifted it as if inviting Brea to take a closer inspection. There was nothing in there that wasn't safe. SIlas walked to the window he’d broken earlier that week, checking to ensure it had been repaired (which it had), and then he walked back to the young woman in her mismatched clothing and strange sweetness. “Brea,” he said, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps Jane would like a spot of tea?” he suggested, wanting Jane to see the girl moving around her own space, to see how well she managed without the assistance of any light. Brea, at first, came across as this fragile thing; but Silas found her amazing, upon further inspection, and the look he gave Jane in the shadows indicated as much.
“I would have come sooner, but today turned out to be a bit complicated. The small matter of a bank, you see.” He said it as if it was so much nothing, and he gave Brea an easy smile. “Has Stephen been to visit?” Brea didn’t touch Jane; she knew enough to know that was improper, but she was uncomfortably close as she stared intently at the bag and tipped her chin up to look at its contents. She’d never seen a woman in person before, and she made a fast aesthetic judgment that was admiring of her height and her pretty light hair. Brea didn’t have light hair like that. She tipped her head around to stare a little more, glowing eyes wide, and then she stepped back at Silas’ pleasant speech and gesture. Brea didn’t make small talk; there was no one to make small talk with. It didn’t occur to her to try.
“Oh,” she said, temporarily confounded by this new situation. “Yes... tea. You like tea, don’t you?” she asked Jane, anxiously. She was already moving away, into the darkness, with every facility. “Be careful of the side table on your right,” she warned, used to guiding Stephen through the clutter. “I moved it because I needed room to look at the books on that shelf.” The low hoarse tone was constant and not a special whisper, that was just how Brea sounded. “I have lots of kinds of tea. Silas told you.” She looked hesitantly at Silas in the dark, glimmers of green and gold. “He came for a little while. He said he might come back this evening. You shouldn’t have come. He’s angry.” She said this with several glances at Jane to see what she knew of the situation. It was little help; Brea couldn’t read expressions or body language to save her life, so unless Jane said it outright she’d be guessing anyway. Jane wouldn't have had an issue if Brea had started touching her. Working often with children, she was quite used to it. She continued to observe Brea calmly with a pleasant smile before Silas' voice caught her attention. If she had only understood the extremities of the girl's isolation, this probably all would have went in a completely different direction. Fortunately, she wasn't completely filled in on the situation.
"I do." She answered when Brea asked her whether she liked tea or not. The back of her hand idly brushed against Silas' in the dark. She just wanted to make sure he was okay, especially after what had happened with Daryl. She would have visibly relaxed to Brea. Brea who seemed to know her way around just fine. She could hear the footsteps, and felt strangely okay with the lack of light. If the girl felt safe, then why shouldn't she? Jane didn't feel like walking around anytime soon as she couldn't...see as well? She couldn't help but wonder if the girl was blind?
"If he comes back are we going to have a problem?" She knew Silas was trouble, but she wasn't sure how she felt about this. No one had really filled her in on anything. She'd arrived with little to no information, thinking she was just going to give a regular check-up. "You said doctors can't help. I'd like to try to do something for you, if you'd let me." “I’ll have a chat with him if he comes back,” Silas assured Jane. He turned his hand over when she brushed her hand against his, and he squeezed her fingers reassuringly, his own hard warm and strong. “Whatever it is you’re worried about, Jane, there’s no need. Let us just pay attention to Brea while we’re here.” He said it in a way that said later, that said he didn’t want to lose this opportunity to find out what was really happening with this girl that lived in constant darkness. It was important to him, and that was visible even in these shadows of life.
He followed Brea to the kitchen, looking over his shoulder at Jane to ensure he was following. Brea was not reassured at the prospect of a chat between Silas and her brother. She was even less reassured by Jane’s undefinable calm doctor-ness. Jane was pretty and feminine, both things that were new to Brea, but a caution against the doctors “who wouldn’t understand” and the people that would take her away (back when social services were a problem) had been instilled in her very young. She moved back a little way from them both, and the cheerful decor of the kitchen was probably lost on both of them since it was deeper into the apartment and there was even less residual light from the tight frames of the windows. The air had a conditioned, wet smell under Brea’s strawberry and the herbal tea scent of the kitchen. “What are you going to do?” she asked worriedly, her gaze dropping down to the hand-holding and briefly derailing her as she tried to figure out what that connection between the two of them meant. “You can’t see to do anything, and if you shine light at me I won’t be able to see any more.” She hadn’t seen any evidence of flashlights or penlights but she moved a little farther back just in case. Jane wasn't surprised when Silas misinterpreted her gesture. The way he held her hand was much to her advantage, but she returned the squeeze none-the-less. It was nice. She understood his suggestion and let it go for now. The squeeze was her non-verbal consent.
When the girl spoke again, her attention shifted to her once more. "You can't see in the light?" The thought hadn't occurred to her, only that perhaps she was blind and that the light wasn't an issue. "Echolocation?" It shouldn't be too far fetched, the guess of how she could see in the dark, although they never had problems seeing in the light either. Her lips pursed as she followed the girl, minding the table. "I work with all sorts of Creations. When we cross over we gain things, abilities." Releasing Silas' hand, she offered the same to Brea. "Would you like to know mine?" She could read more than one person at once, but she preferred to do it on an individual basis. "It won't hurt you." Silas took a seat at the familiar table, his movements slow in the deeper darkness of the kitchen, his eyes still adjusting as they went. He’d noticed Brea’s gaze dropping to Jane’s hand in his, but he didn’t mention it, didn’t clarify. Instead, he just held out a hand to Brea, his fingers touching her arm lightly. “She won’t hurt you, darling,” he assured. “I wouldn’t have brought her with me were that the case,” he said, and he meant it, the words earnest and true on his lips.
“Any light, according to Stephen, Brea’s brother, will leave her without the vision she currently has in the darkness,” he explained. “I believe it’s tied to her ability,” he added, smiling up at Brea. “She’s quite good at making things go gloriously dark.” He said it like it was a grand thing indeed, and he winked at Brea immediately after. The combined calm and reassurance of both of them went a long way, it seemed. She stopped retreating, even when Jane put her hand out, and her eyes flicked nervously from one to the other, probably the most visible thing in the room with their reflective surfaces. “I don’t remember crossing anywhere,” Brea said, hesitantly. “But Stephen says it made me different. I don’t know about the dark thing,” she added, in Silas’ direction.
Curiosity made it through the skittishness as Jane offered her ability in the bargain. “What does it do?” She came closer. As long as neither of them flashed a light in her eyes, Brea wasn’t worried. Nobody had ever actually hurt her in her entire existence and it wasn’t really a possibility in the scope of her imagination. Only blindness really scared her. “I don’t have echolocation,” she said, reaching out tentatively to touch Jane’s fingertips. “If I did, I could see in the light, but I can’t.” Jane was thankful that Silas was helping her out with this. The fact that the girl was relaxing enough to trust her was a good sign. Jane's hand was particularly still waiting patiently for the feel of Brea's. Once there was skin to skin contact. She definitely wasn't being abused and she wasn't suffering from any form of malnutrition. "I can tell if you're sick or not with a touch and you're very healthy." It was just her ability then. She didn't know if she could do anything about that or find anyone who could. She'd have to consult with Daryl on it, to see if she could find a solution.
"Does the light only hurt your eyes? Or the rest of you?" The confession of her being able to create darkness interested her as well. "Sorry for all the questions, I can't...pick up anything wrong with your eyes. They're naturally the way they are." With that statement, she briefly glanced at Silas. There were so many solutions swirling around her head, including moving around in a dark bubble if she could create it herself, but she thought of how Brea might have already thought of that. Well that didn’t make any sense.
“Jane, how can she be healthy if she can’t go into the light? She mentions the destruction of things within her eyes, and that’s hardly as it should be. You mean to say she’s meant to be in the dark?” Silas asked, sounding disbelieving of the whole concept. “Brea, have you always been unable to go out into the light? Or has it been recently? Since acquiring your ability?” His questions were rapid fire, one after the other, and once he stopped he just looked at them both, depending answers and awaiting responses.
He was quiet, trying to figure out of there was anything he was forgetting. “She’s color blind,” he added to Jane. An afterthought. The barrage of questions overwhelmed Brea, and she just stood there, hand slowly lowering from the brief Michelangelo brush of fingertips with Jane. After so long, no doubt their eyes had adjusted enough to see the hesitant, vulnerable expression on her face, but she wasn’t as reactive as most people and didn’t reply immediately. “I don’t hurt right now,” she said softly, trying to appease both of them in a completely transparent attempt at soothing what she perceived to be disapproval. “I haven’t acquired anything. It’s been like this since I was little. Stephen says so.” She retreated across the kitchen to fetch some tea, casting concerned glances over her shoulder at both of them. Jane laid a hand on Silas' arm to calm him. All the questions being shot off in such rapid succession couldn't be helping Brea to stay relaxed. "There's nothing wrong with her," she said in a calming voice. "There is nothing wrong with you." She repeated the sentiment to Brea just to make sure she understood. Silas' tone was upsetting Jane. The way he worded the questions and the emphasis he put on her being different weren't helpful at all in her opinion. She understood his concern, but it could have just been handled better.
The look on Brea's face, that she could make out, showed that much. She watched as the girl retreated to make them tea and managed not to frown at Silas. It wasn't hard to do since she'd dealt with much more insistent parents. "She's fine as long as she's in the dark, so I take it she is supposed to be in the dark. I've not come across it before, but I've seen stranger things. I don't know why you're saying she's unnatural, when you and I can do things non-Creations can't do either." At this point, she was just trying to pull Brea back into feeling that everything was fine.
She could understand why there was a problem to Silas that the girl couldn't go out into the light, and the fact that she was colorblind, because she couldn't enjoy the sights most people took for granted. The only problem was that she didn't like how it sounded like there was something very wrong with Brea when she was just the way she was meant to be. "You don't have any memories of lights and colors?" The question was posed to see if she had any childhood memories of such things. She said what her brother had told her, but she was gauging for a different answer, just in case. Silas, who was watching Brea move around the kitchen, looked back at Jane midway through all the frowning and lecturing. “She wants to go outside, Jane, but she can’t. I didn’t mean she wasn’t normal.” He smiled over at Brea. “Darling, I didn’t mean that. You know I think you’re quite wonderful, and I’m sorry for all of the questions,” he said, and he meant it. There was something about Brea that was endearing, that made him feel protective.
He still wanted her to be able to go out there and live.
He sat back in the chair at the kitchen table, and she watched Jane, listened to her questions. “I can see colors,” Brea said, encouraged by the apology and the shift in the mood, or what she perceived to be so. A great deal of smiling immediately reassured her. Brea didn’t realize that what she saw as colors were not what other people saw. She didn’t have a great deal for comparison, after all. “There are lots of different colors between things.” Brea differentiated “colors” by different shades, which is why her badly mismatched garb looked cohesive to her. The dark blue contrasted nicely with the faint pink.
She put hot water on and brought over teacups. “It’s okay,” she said, quietly. “Stephen just says it’ll hurt my eyes too much if I go out. It did hurt, last time, and I couldn’t see for a little while after.” She gave a small, helpless little shrug. Listening to both of them, she just couldn't help but frown in consternation. "The last time you went out..." she started trying to put together the rest of her thoughts, "was it just outside of this apartment, or was it a specific place?" She was working to a point or at least trying to. The thoughts were jumbled and slowly clicking into place. She was not nearly as organized as Daryl when it came to these things.
"If it only hurts her eyes, we just need to find an adequate way of protecting them. The rest of her senses work normally, right? She might not be able to see everything, but that shouldn't be too bad if someone's with her, right?" It felt odd asking her to take that sort of way out, but she was still formulating, "Or you could try the Versimilitude. It cancels out all abilities. Maybe it'll cancel out the effects on your eyes as well." It was a big maybe in her opinion, if it'd become a part of how her body normally function. "Or we can try and find someone who has the ability to nullify everything altogether and have them stay in close proximity of you?" She didn't know anyone personally, but she could try to find one. Silas grinned as Jane began her rapid-fire suggestions. That’s what he’d expected from the woman. He knew Jane enjoyed a challenge, just like he knew she was an adrenaline junkie. He’d been hoping she’d take an interest in Brea, because there was no one more dogged once she’d caught the scent of something that intrigued her.
He didn’t interrupt, because he wanted to hear Brea’s answer to the initial questions, and so he remained quietly observant. “I went out on the stair,” Brea admitted honestly, pointing in the general direction of the building's enclosed staircase, “and Silas was there.” She offered the man a very tentative smile, as she wasn’t sure what the great show of teeth meant, precisely. The grins on television were a good deal smaller and slower than that. “You’re going to have someone nullify my eyes?” she asked, absolutely horrified. "NO." She said holding up her hands. She didn't mean to raise her voice, but the expression on Brea's face had alarmed her. "No," she repeated with a softer tone, "not nullify your eyes. I meant, try to make it so you can see in the light. So you could see like we do, so that the light doesn't hurt. That's the goal I'm going for. If you really want to go outside, I'd say the Verisimilitude would be the safest bet. We can start off in a dark room and see where it goes from there?" Hopefully there was a way to just try it, possibly in one of the inner rooms without any windows or one with thick curtains. "That's if it's okay with her brother." “It’s best we not involve Stephen,” Silas cautioned, his voice lowering, almost as if Brea wouldn’t react as badly if he was quiet about it. A flinch at the loud tone, since Brea didn’t hear a lot of intense conversation between two people whether loud or soft, except for when Stephen shouted at her. Brea didn’t know where Verisimilitude was, and she didn’t know what it was like. Her plan had been to just sort of explore her immediate area when no one was looking, and she didn’t like the idea of going somewhere that turned people off, in whatever definition Jane had for it.
The wide green eyes now turned to Silas. “Oh, we can’t hide things from Stephen,” she said, as if such a thing was literally impossible. "He can't be completely unreasonable. If she wants to go outside, he should at least let her try." Jane could understand the want to protect her. The way she seemed to flinch was not sitting too well with her, but she wasn't physically hurt in anyway. "Sorry," she apologized as an afterthought. "Not to mention," she said turning her attention back to Silas, "I don't want to get slapped with kidnapping charges or something equally as ridiculous." Obviously, she wasn't aware that Brea was old enough to make her decisions, as her demeanor said otherwise. “He is entirely unreasonable,” Silas reassured her, and then he smiled at Brea in a way that said he knew all this talk of kidnapping charges was not going to be well received. “Jane, darling, I think we should consider this an interesting first consultation. Perhaps we can go on a think of a way to protect Brea’s eyes from the light, so she can go outside.”
He was trying to avoid a full out panic attack from the mismatched girl across from them in the kitchen. Brea was trying not to be increasingly alarmed, as they went from talk of nullifying to talk of a conversation with Stephen, who would be absolutely enraged she let more light into the apartment, not to mention people. Then there was talk of kidnapping, and she’d had just about enough. “I think you should go now,” Brea said, stumbling a little over the words and glancing nervously at the tea cups. She drifted nearer than farther, as if she might be able to sweep them out gently with her wavering presence alone. “Yes, I--I think you should go. Now.” Brea didn’t want to be kidnapped and then blinded, not one bit, and while she didn’t think that either of them would hurt her on purpose, she was starting to think that Stephen was right--they just didn’t understand. What if they went outside to try it and the light seared her eyes out? Then what? Then nothing, that was what. She wouldn’t see nothing, forever. “Now,” she said again, nervously glancing at the door as if Stephen would come any moment. It had taken her a moment to get the gist of what had just happened. She'd gone a little too far, which was much further than she would have if she'd been paying attention. Silas' suggestion coupled with Brea's tone had caused her to frown and actually bite on her lower lip. It wasn't a look of frustration on her face so much as that of an apology mixed with worry. Brea was safe here though. It might not have felt safe to her to be left in the dark, but due to Brea's condition, this was as safe as she could get.
Almost at hearing now, she only nodded. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you," was all she could really say, wasn't it? "It was a pleasure meeting you, Brea. You have a lovely home." It felt odd saying the last bit, mainly because she couldn't see all of it at once. She'd only seen silhouettes and bits and pieces of things in the dark.
She tried to remember the way she had came, only managing to bump her leg on the table that Brea had warned her about. "Sorry," she muttered attempting to steady it. At least, she was going in the right direction. Upon reaching the door, she searched for the knob. "I'm going to open the door now..." The girl deserved a warning, right? It was the only way to get out anyway. After waiting a few beats, she slowly opened it and quickly slipped outside with Silas in tow.