Miriel Palantiri (ofsilverfair) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-03-18 18:46:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, faiza hussain (excalibur), isabela, miriel |
"Little people aren't halflings."
Who: Miriel, Isabela and Faiza
What: Domestic Disturbance! (Trigger warning!)
When: Evening after Kirk's impromptu party
Where: Isabela's flat, then Faiza's flat, then Miriel's apartment.
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete
Miriel stayed at the shelter a bit later than normal, driving the night shift completley batty before they all but threw her her out. She'd had no idea what to do for the night now. Gripping pepperspray tightly in her pocket, she headed for her car, started the engine and started to drive home.
She took a longer way, and soon regretted it, for the engine died, and she drifted to a stop, groaning, and faceplanting the wheel.
Above her head, though distant, was the sound of loud arguing. It was hard to make out what the arguing was about, though one voice was obviously deeper than the other. Possibly a domestic dispute or some kind of lover's quarrel, though it was just as likely to be a drug deal gone wrong or even crime in progress or prostitution gone 'do not want'.
A loud crashing punctuated the sentence of one person's argument, then the arguing got a little louder. A few seconds later there was the sound of breaking glass and something went THUMP on top of Miriel's car.
Lifting her head from the steering wheel, Miriel peered out through the night, barely lit by one streetlamp. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her pepper spray as the argument escalated. On the one hand, she really should try to crank the car in an attempt to get somewhere a lot safe. On the other hand, she could clearly make out a woman's voice on the other part of the argument and lord knows how bad that often turns out. It was better to be paranoid than sorry.
She was reaching for her cell phone to call the police when the first crash occurred. She nearly jumped out of her skin when something thumped on top of her car. She pushed the door open and climbed out, half expecting to see a body.
Thankfully, the only thing on the top of the car was a suitcase full of stuff. A head poked through the window that didn't look female, though it was hard to guess. There was a long string of cussing in a foreign language as the head removed itself from the hole in the window, followed by, "I thought that was YOUR car, WHORE."
"I'm glad it WASN'T my car, ASS!" came the response of the woman in the argument, whose head did not approach the window. Probably because the person in question wasn't stupid enough to get her neck anywhere near cut glass at this point in the evening.
Domestic dispute it was then. She'd decided she wasn't going to press matters about the damage to her car. That man looked like he ate pepper spray with every meal and then sprayed it into his eyes for fun. Her car was nearing its final days, anyway.
That still left her stranded, and now involved in a domestic disturbance. She slid her shoes off in case she needed to run, pulled her briefcase out of the car, then then tugged the suitcase off the top. It felt heavy enough to use as a weapon, at least. She reached for her phone again, this time deciding to call Aveline.
There was another crash from the apartment above, and the arguing seemed to take on a fever pitch before suddenly grinding to a halt. From Miriel's standpoint, it was probably too far away to hear the hitting and crunching of bone, or the thump of lamps being smacked into the heads of obstinate Arabic men.
Those things did happen, though, and Isabela hurriedly packed whatever remained of her stuff that hadn't already been tossed out the window or burned. She considered herself lucky that the money the shop brought in - especially that check Frodo'd written - had already been deposited on Friday night, and the account had nothing to do with the man she was living with.
She slung her extra bag over her shoulder, kicked the man - who was now crumpled on the floor - once more for good measure, and fled the apartment with as much speed as she could handle.
Which in her case meant sliding down the bannisters in the stairwell instead of taking the elevator.
Then she rushed out the door of the apartment building.
"Are you all right?" Miriel made for an odd picture; an attractive woman in a long skirt with a flowy, cleavage bearing top, holding a briefcase in one hand while propping up Isabela's luggage, and juggling a cell phone. All in front of a car with a dented roof and smoke churning from under the hood. She seemed to be far more concerned with the Indian woman escaping a clearly escalating situation.
"Oh I'm fine, you know, this is just a normal Saturday night for me!" Isabela was pretty much ignoring the blood flowing out of her nose, or any other physical health considerations in favor of getting the hell out of here.
She looked Miriel up and down, took in the car, and then pointed at the luggage, "Is that mine? Sorry about that. You probably want to run, maybe you should get in my car... I have a thing to get to, but I can drop you off."
"God..." Dropping her briefcase and managing to shove her phone back in her pocket, Miriel produced some tissues and gently pressed it to Bela's nose. She could see bruising on a cheek and the woman was going to have a hell of a shiner by morning. But there was still the danger and she nodded her head, "I'll drive."
She'll make any case she needed to once she had Bela as her captive and they were getting far away. Whatever 'thing' the woman needed to get to could wait. She retrieved her keys and shoes, and anything else in the car she might need to worry about and threw them into Bela's car. She'd have to call a tow truck for hers later.
"Blast it," Isabela muttered, as Miriel started fussing with her nose and then insisted on driving. Why people had to continuously go entangling themselves into her life at the worst possible moments was beyond her.
She pressed the tissue to her nose, then bit her lip to keep from sniffling over the pain, because honestly crying wasn't going to help at all. This entire situation was actually her fault, so at least she didn't have to worry about being some kind of victim or something.
"I can drive, it's alright... I'll just drop you off somewhere. Bus stop?" She refused to give over her keys.
"You're in no condition to drive," Miriel retorted, grasping for the keys. She could already tell this woman was the sort to blame herself rather than let herself be called a victim. Which she was, there was no doubt in her mind about that.
"There's blood pouring out of your nose and your eye is going to swell shut. I'm taking you somewhere safe, and I have a friend who can take a look at you. She's really friendly and helps me out in situations like these. No hospitals unless you want, but you should file a report with the police."
She quickly added, sensing an objection, "And I can call in a favor with a detective friend for that, so you wouldn't even need to go down to the station."
"Look, I appreciate the help, but until Arishok threw my stuff at your car I didn't know you from Adam."
Isabela sighed, as Miriel took the keys away from her, and then shook her head repeatedly at the idea of reports and police and detective friends and any of that nonsense at all, though something did occur to her.
"I hit him with a lamp... I mean I shouldn't hope that killed him, right? I probably should file a tip so someone makes sure he isn't ... Look, it's not his fault, I slept around a lot and never told him we weren't a thing. I'm not going to defend him, but I really am a slut, so I'd rather not talk to the police much."
Miriel ushered Isabela into the car, then got in herself, "We'll stop at a payphone and phone in a tip. But its self-defense." She started it, and pulled out, thumb dancing madly on her phone as she sent a text to Faiza asking if she could stop by for special treatment. She hoped Faiza didn't think she was being hit on again.
She glanced over at Isabela, handing her more tissues. Her voice was exceedingly gentle, and understanding, "That doesn't excuse violence. He assumed something that wasn't true. You can blame yourself all you want but that doesn't make it any more acceptable that he hit you."
Miriel gestured at Isabela's dress. The same green number from the party the night before, tight, short, and very attractive, except for the rip down the side, "It would be like clothing being used as a defense in a sexual assault. I hear it all the time. Way too much. Whatever you did, it was no excuse to hurt you."
Isabela took the tissues and dabbed them at her nose. She wished Miriel's tone was anything but gentle. She hated when people talked to her like that. She wasn't some delicate and fragile flower or anything, and people always tended to take that tone when they were trying to be extra kind.
Screw kindness, she just wanted to be yelled at for being stupid. At least then she'd be in a world that made more sense.
"Stupid dress. Kirk ripped it when he was trying to get it on me, then Arishok was stupid about the whole thing and I suppose the part where I got drunk and kissed a girl while wearing sparkle panties didn't help either, but..."
She sighed, "Seriously, I can handle myself."
Miriel turned left, then right, hoping Faiza had actually gotten the message. And was home. She patted Isabela's leg, "Its a nice dress, it can probably be fixed." She gave the woman a wink, "I kissed a girl once. Or rather, she kissed me. I was in Iraq, working an a shelter for women there." Her fingers tightened around the wheel at the memory, "She was a very confused young woman, under a lot of pressure to begin with and epiphanies about her sexuality only put more pressure on her."
"I'm not allowed to talk about my first time with a woman. Especially if anyone asks," Isabela remarked, brightly. She was glad to change the subject, really.
"It never occurred to me that it was this big deal, you know. For me it was more like... 'Wow, this is good too'."
She eyed the area, unsure where it was Miriel was taking her, though it was probably more to do with her head swimming than actual unfamiliarity with the surroundings. Stupid things came to mind, one of which was she couldn't remember if she'd packed her makeup. Jack was probably going to laugh if she saw her like this, and she'd have to make up some sort of incident involving sex and elbows or something.
Varric could probably write her a good one, too bad she didn't have his phone number.
It was just kissing. Miriel hadn't ever had sex with a woman. Or sex all that often, really. Never had time for it. She eyed Isabela, then nudged her leg, "Stay with me. You're starting to sway a bit." She really needed to go to the hospital, but the next best thing was Faiza's apartment. She pulled in and parked, then firmly took Isabela's arm and hauled her out of the car.
"What's this now?" The afghani-looking woman at the door had a distinctly Londoner accent. She added under her breath, "Bugger, this one really wailed on her didn't he." Faiza was glad her favorite form of violence only involved robots. And occasional cricket sticks. She pointed at a seat, "Perch our little bird there. I've got a bit of painkiller to take the edge off and then we'll start with keeping her face pretty."
"I'd like it very much if you kept my face pretty," Isabela murmured, while being perched over there. She still didn't want a doctor fussing over her, but was hitting the point where she was starting to actually think about the mess the past few days had been between all the blurs.
She hated the part where she started rethinking her life choices. It was never good. She was certain if she did it often enough she'd end up as some sort of boring adult with responsibilities and things, and that would just be horrible.
More horrible than fleeing her angry ex-whatever he was and getting stuck at some random doctor's place anyway.
"I can't sell people things If I'm not pretty, my entire career depends on my looks you know...And then there's all the sex I won't get anymore..."
"Trust me, duck, there'll be no shortage of blokes following you, even if I don't do anything." Faiza peered at Bela's face, "You might need stitches." She reached into her bag and pulled out a kit, gesturing for Miriel to distract the woman.
Miriel came over, sitting next to her, "Something tells me Faiza's right." She leaned towards Bela a bit, smiling at her, "But I'd trust her skills."
Faiza then calmly jabbed Bela in the arm with a needle.
"I don't really want any stitches, you can't cover stitches up with make up and I think you really should stop poking it and fussing over it," Isabela frowned, then squinted over at Miriel, who was giving her a stunning view by leaning over in that shirt, "Well if YOU trust her, sweet thing."
The prick of the needle brought her back to reality a bit and she swung her face around back to Faiza, "OW!"
"The scar will be worse without stitches," Faiza protested, putting the needle in a little baggie marked with a biohazard symbol and putting the bottle back in a bag. It wasn't as potent as morphine, but then it didn't really need to be in this application, "If you behave I'll have Miriel remove her shirt."
"I do trust her, and she'll take good--what?!"
"Now now, duck, she was clearly looking and it it will distract her its innocent enough?" Faiza was giving Miriel her best innocent doctor look. The other woman squinted. She was on to her.
"Ooo, boobies... I like staring at those, they're so soft and wonderful," Isabela sounded like the drugs were already taking effect, and whatever it was was certainly strong enough, morphine or no.
"Just make me pretty, I'll have to come up with some sort of ... Let's see... So if I'm talking to anyone but Kirk, it's just that we were trying some... complicated sexual maneuver and he elbowed me in the face, and if it's Jim, then... Uhm..."
Isabela tried to think of who else at the party was capable of complex sexual maneuvers. Scotty was obviously all smitten with the irish red head - no blame there! - and Sulu was obviously gay, so that ruled him out.
" ... McCoy, yes, I'll say it was McCoy, and he'll forgive me since he seems nice and gentlemanly." Isabela stopped herself from nodding like she'd finally decided something, since Faiza had a needle in her face after all.
Miriel relented - it for for medical purposes after all - and unbuttoned her shirt. Her bra was front clasping and she unhooked it. Medical purposes! "Isabela, making up stories that no one is going to believe isn't going to make this any better."
Finally, Miriel can flirt with someone else and Faiza can concentrate on doctoring. And a certain pathologist's sexy, sexy hands. Wait. She shook her head, trying to snap herself out of that mental image to concentrate on cleaning the wound and sewing skin back together. Then a bit of cream for the bruises. She had ice packs too, "She's right, you know. I've seen sex related injuries, this definitely isn't one."
"Don't talk to me like you're suddenly my aunties," which was seriously what Faiza and Miriel were starting to sound like, in Isabela's book, "No one is going to believe the real one anyway. I have to have a reason since there's no coverup for stitches."
Miriel's very nice breasts were certainly a good distraction from the stitching going on right above her eyes, though. There was nothing more disturbing that Isabela had witnessed this week than watching a Doctor stitch up her own eyebrow. So she focused on the breasts. Breasts were great, but she'd already mentioned that.
"Anyway you're a doctor, so you're going to know better, but I believe at least Sulu and Scotty will believe it, and... most of my clients won't ask, but maybe I'll just say I got injured in another midget fight. Those seem to happen often enough."
Faiza clucked her tongue again, "I...Midget fight?" That stopped her stitching momentarily before she started up again, "I did get called in the other day to help deal with a sudden influx of injured little people..."
A blush was creeping down Miriel's neck, but she ignored it, "Your roommate punched you. It doesn't need to be embellished, though I suppose you could embellish the part about the lamp."
Isabela took a very long deep breath in, and then let it out, centering her inner calm before speaking up again, "I don't want to. I'm not this woman. I don't get into stupid not-relationships with pushy obstinate men. I don't let them take liberties or hurt me. I don't continue to be in situations I know are bad for me. I'm not this woman, and you aren't going to make me into this woman."
Allowing the floaty painkillers to send her back into happy fuzzy land, she grinned a bit, and turned her attention back to Miriel's breasts instead of her eyes, "Midget fight, it was glorious... have you ever seen those walking movies? I love the walking movies, there's lots of fighting and ships in the end! Anyway, it was like some sort of last stand battle filled with hobbitses or something."
She continued babbling about it, with a bit of a tone of nostalgia even though the events hadn't happened that long ago, "I got to threaten one at knifepoint you know. I've always wanted to stab someone with that thing."
"Being a victim doesn't make you that woman." Miriel rested a hand on Isabela's arm. She didn't want to be condescending, or pitying. Neither would be effective with a stubborn-as-a-mule woman like this. Her breasts continued to talk to Isabela, "It simply means you were a victim, whatever the circumstances were."
"Little people aren't halflings." Faiza rolled her eyes, "Next you'll be telling me a pack of them came riding in on big bloody Great Danes."
Miriel meanwhile, had an expression on her face as though she were struggling on whether to admit something or not.
"I'm not a victim, for christ's sake," Isabela said to Miriel's boobs, who were totally speaking to her in a disembodied voice, "Listen, you're a nice pair of breasts and all but I'd like it if you stopped talking about this now... I mean breasts aren't supposed to talk to begin with."
The mental imagine of nipples being used as mouths to talk with made Isabela's face screw up oddly, and she pushed it out of her head, allowing one of hobbits riding great danes to push itself in, instead. She giggled a bit, "That would have been hysterical."
"Thank god and Allah," Faiza muttered. It wasn't real. Oblivious to any thoughts of nipple mouths, she concentrated on the bruises now.
Miriel's pressed her hand against her face for a moment, "Believe me, I understand, to a certain extent. You don't want to feel helpless, or out of control, and you want to blame yourself because that way you'll have been in control, as twisted as that sounds."
"I'm just not that person... I'm not that person. It was bad and I stuck it out, we were equals. He burned my shit and argued over it and no one would be having this discussion if I'd thrown the first punch."
Isabela was obviously as stubborn and obstinate as the man she'd been living with, that much was certain, "It's not about control or ... whatever, I'm the Captain of my own ship and I sailed right into this bloody ... storm... thing, and my ship's all wrecked now, that doesn't make me a victim."
Miriel sounded, to her, like some sort of ... what was it on television, rape councilors or something along those lines, and while she was sure the other woman did a fine job for women who needed that sort of thing, she wasn't it.
"Are we done here? I've got ... things. I need to get to them."
Faiza sat back, finished, then subltely inspected Isabela for any other injuries or bruises. Miriel's lips thinned out for a moment, before she tried again, "Look, I'm sure you're not a prissy, fragile princess, but even the toughest people can find themselves in bad situations. You shouldn't blame yourself for this. And I already know you're not going to stay at my shelter, so I'm going to take you back too my place."
Faiza shot a look at Miriel, wondering if such an offer was a wise thing to do when sitting there with her knockers hanging out. She supposed it let her off the hook, and she trusted Miriel to properly administer any medications she prescribed, which included painkillers and an antibiotic. Whatever this Arishok person had hit Isabela with, she hadn't liked what she'd cleaned out of the wound.
"Of course I'm not going to stay at your shelter, I have a perfectly good car to sleep in, and I'm going to go sleep in it..."
Isabela's other eyebrow twitched a bit. This entire conversation was seriously, seriously killing her drug buzz. It was absolutely the last thing she wanted to deal with, and it wasn't really these people's business, either.
"Give me your number and I'll get you some reimbursement for your car, but that's it... I didn't ask for any of this, I just want to go... sleep it off and get back to my life."
The temptation of going to Miriel's place wasn't really as convincing as her 'run the hell away' instinct at the moment.
No one ever asked for it, but neither woman was really going to say that aloud to her right now. Instead, Miriel buttoned her shirt back up, "You're in no condition to drive, and I'm not going to be a terrible hostess and let you sleep in your car in front of my apartment. You're staying the night at least, and I won't take no for an answer." She glanced at Faiza, "Anything else you need to do?"
Faiza shook her head, "Thats it, duck. Give her one of these pills in the morning then give the instructions when she's coherent enough to understand them." She pulled Miriel aside and lowered her voice, "So what are you going to do with her?"
"I don't know yet. She doesn't have anywhere else to go that I'm aware of, and I doubt she'll take charity."
"Offer to let the bird pay for rent."
Miriel grinned, "Not a bad idea." She walked back to Isabela and gently helped her up, "Lets get you to the car before you pass out."
"M'not that far gone," Isabela muttered, like a grumpy 5 year old. Which was about what she was acting like at the moment, anyway. She'd tried to listen to them whispering, and generally hated it when people talked about her like she wasn't sitting right there in the room.
It was clear Miriel wasn't going to give up on this, though, so she leaned against the woman and sighed a very very long sigh, "Fine, but m'sleepin' on th'couch."
"Not on your life. You'll sleep in my bed and like it." She waved at Faiza as she manuevered the shorter woman into the car. It was another five minutes driving to get to her apartment, allowing her time to mull over the situation.'
Isabela spent the car ride making more and more elaborate stories in her head. She was Captain Sal and had gotten in an epic fist fight with a man trying to steal her ship! That one sounded great, but clearly the drugs were messing with her. It's not like she could really BE a pirate captain.
Fine, fine, she got in an epic fist fight after having epic sex with Kirk. She fought Sulu over the rights for Kirk's hot body. That would go over well!
Sulu'd forgive her, but maybe not. Anyway she was probably on his shit list already for being at that party to begin with, so she didn't really care.
Miriel pulled through the gate and parked. She helpe Isabela out of the car and up the stairs, planting her on the couch so she could head down to retrieve luggage and briefcase from the car. To prevent theft, and delay any potential escape attempts. She closed the door and locked it, then leaned back against it and sighed. She supposed it was fortunate the staff had kicked her out when they did, even if she was exhausted. A few minutes earlier or later.... She put a smile on. It even reached her eyes. Isabela seemed to have that effect on people, even when she was being stubborn.
She walked back into the living room, tossing her shoes on the corner. She wasn't sure if Isabela needed help getting the rest of that dress off or not, "Water?"
While Miriel was doing all that, Isabela'd flopped over onto the couch, and was staring up at the ceiling, willing herself not to fall asleep. It was an extremely comfy couch - and Isabela would know about couches. It was pulling her into a happy comfy drowsy state which was not at all conducive to escaping when Miriel went to sleep.
Damn those pain killers and damn the couch, too.
She shook her head at the request, "S'alright. Stop fussing, really."
"I'm going to have to fuss," Miriel said, pulling Isabela into a sitting position and quickly stripping the dress off. She gave it a quick inspection. The rips were repairable but there was blood and that was going to be..problematic. A shame, as it was a very nice dress. She'd consider wearing it if she ever went anywhere where it'd be appropriate. Next came Bela's underwear, which after another quick inspection of the tags got tossed in the washing machine. Noting whoever she was last with was a biter of interesting places (tm), she pulled the woman to her feet and slung an arm around her shoulder.
It had been a pretty long day by now, and Isabela'd spent a few minutes fighting the drowsy on the couch as it was. By the time Miriel came over to start stripping her down, she didn't even have a saucy comeback for the other woman. She stood still and let her get to work, though she noted herself that the dress probably wasn't salveagable.
She wondered if she needed it for evidence or anything. She wondered if she should even be bothered with any of that, except that she was somewhat scared she'd end up in prison over all this. Pushing that out of her head, she put on her cheery face.
"I'm naked in your living room," she casually observed.
"And high as a kite," Miriel countered, thankful for that fact. She'd never dealt with her own reactions to being kissed, having worked more to ease that girl's state of mind and understandable fear for her life. She slid an arm around Bela's waist, "Which I haven't experienced in a long time. I'm jealous."
She was going to call in tomorrow. Her staff could handle a day without her and if something pressing occurred she was a phone call away.
"Could really sleep on th'couch y'know... It's quite comfy," Isabela mumbled sleepily, while putting an arm around Miriel's waist.
She laughed when Miriel mentioned the jealousy, and added, "Share the painkillers with you, I'm a giver. I give."
"One of us needs to remain coherent," Miriel admonished. Isabela seemed like she'd be a fun one. She could admit she could use a little bit of fun in her life. Into the bedroom they went, over a persian rug. Unlike the living room there was a bit of color here, mostly in the form of artwork from Africa and the Middle East.
"Your apartment's sort of boring, you know..." Isabela looked around a bit, "There's not enough color. It's like you're a ghost or something."
The persian rug was absolutely wonderful under her toes, though, she had to admit.
Miriel rolled her eyes, and then helped Isabela into bed. It was an admittedly comfortable looking sight, but she tucked the woman in, "I haven't had much cause for other people to come visit. We'll discuss my decorating habits over breakfast."
Isabela curled up in the bed, glad the sheets weren't scratchy or anything. It was one of her only standards for living.
"Coffee, really... don't eat much."
They were really good sheets. After years in warzones with at risk women, high threadcount sheets were something of a thing for Miriel. She leaned in, kissing the other woman on the unbruised cheek, "You let me handle that." Then she grabbed a nightgown to sleep in and a blanket, and closed the door behind her.