Cecilia Rynbë (bloominsnow) wrote in zenithrp, @ 2015-10-11 19:48:00 |
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Entry tags: | #day 003, cecilia, reginald |
clean and quiet
Who: Reginald and Cecilia
When: 9:30ish
Where: The road to town
The rational parts of Cecilia’s mind still wanted to try and wrangle the herd of fellow captives and hammer out a plan. Or at least get together with a few like-minded people. But the rest of her, the panicked creature backed into a corner that had been threatening to explode ever since waking up in this place two days ago… that girl just wanted to get it over with. So Reginald hadn’t had to twist her arm very much. What he was suggesting was what that poor miserable creature inside really wanted all along, so it was easy to concede. Once she had agreed, she fashioned the hospital gown around her as a robe, knotted it tightly, grabbed the walking stick, and hurried into the foyer to meet Reginald.
It wasn’t that Reginald was against planning. He liked the idea very much. He simply recognized that with their group, it was going to take an extraordinary amount of effort and patience to get everyone -- or even the majority -- on the same page. Better to have done with it and see where things were. Somehow, he truly believed that this upcoming exam would be something of a game-changer. For everyone. And so he was content to head in immediately.
He had not met Cecilia yet, but she was the only woman waiting in the foyer, and the stick was something of a dead giveaway. He frowned slightly as he descended the stairs. “You’re one of the girls with no shoes,” he sighed. He did not like the looks of her attire, not at all. He gathered she wasn’t overly fond either. Reginald felt a twinge of guilt. He himself had worn only his dress shirt and trousers, leaving the tie, waistcoat, and jacket behind in his room. “Are you cold, dear? I could go fetch my jacket.”
Reginald was the second man in the house to offer Cecilia an article of clothing, but she was no more likely to accept it from him than she had been from Marco. Too stubborn, perhaps. “I’m really fine,” she assured him, though she did muster up a small smile. “Thank you. It’s not cold during the day. I’m just eager to get going.” She held out the walking stick. “Chase found this for you.”
Reginald nodded and took the stick after reaching the landing. “Thank you. And I shall be sure to thank him as well.” He took one more look at Cecilia. There was no way the look could be interpreted as anything inappropriate -- it was a downright fatherly look. She wasn’t that much younger than his own daughter. “I don’t suppose you’d take my socks?”
She didn’t know why, but that made Cecilia grin a bit. Perhaps because she could really imagine, with absolutely no difficulty, this man plunking down on the bottom step to remove his socks and give them to her. The offer was about as tempting as an offer to wear a stranger’s at-least-three-day-old-socks could ever hope to be, but she still shook her head. “I’ll let you know if I change my mind,” she said. “Are you ready to go?”
Reginald gave a little nod and stepped forward to open the door for Cecilia. He could do that at least, and hope to do more later. He thought it might be a good idea to offer his jacket publicly on the network to anyone else that might need it, but he could see now that Cecilia was quite eager to go. He would not ask her to wait.
He had been outside of the house a couple of times over the past few days, but had never left the grounds themselves. He had considered it of course -- and especially on that first day -- but in the end he had seen wisdom in waiting behind, even if he’d found nothing of terrible importance while searching the house the previous day. “I take it your medicinal search turned up fruitless,” he guessed, as they began the walk down the path and to the road.
“It did,” Cecilia answered. “I probably should have told you last night. I’m sorry.” The honest truth was that coming back empty-handed (or near enough to it) had been terribly difficult for her. A few first-aid kits, none of which even had aspirin to offer. Having to admit defeat in that had been the second closest she’d come to losing it in this place. “I searched the hospital and it was empty of all supplies. The pharmacy just had basic first aid - bandaids, bactine, that kind of thing. I brought some back just in case.” It went without saying that she hoped not to need those things, or much worse. As it was she was half tempted to ask everyone to see their IV removal sites, but tried to convince herself that anyone that had hurt themselves would have come to her if they were concerned. She had declared herself a nurse on the network, and as far as she could tell she was the only one here with a medical background.
“You needn’t apologize,” was Reginald’s response. “I’m afraid my search of the house came up in a similar fashion. We have everything we need to live quite comfortably for some time, barring any emergencies. But not so much as a bottle of aspirin. Quite the well stocked bar. I daresay we may have a few people finding their own ways to self-medicate if we should be here much longer.” And privately, he quite suspected that they would. Whatever was going on, these people knew their business, and a lot of preparation had obviously gone into it.
Cecilia’s brain, being the dark and cynical place that it was, immediately started imagining what in the hell she’d do if someone in this place had alcohol poisoning. Stop that, she told herself. She tried to muster up some sort of response, anything, and fell short. She realized she was much more anxious about this upcoming exam than she had previously realized. She pretended she was distracted with cracks in the pavement, but her feet weren’t even bothering her so much anymore. I’m getting my hobbit feet, she thought. “You were the one taken in church, is that right?”
When the girl fell silent, Reginald didn’t begrudge her that. Everyone was coping with the situation in their own way, and it seemed a little ridiculous to expect anyone to chat as though nothing was happening. He could do that, to be sure, but he didn’t expect it from anyone else. He was willing to behave in whatever manner seemed to be most calming to his current companions. So as strange as it might have sounded, he just tried to enjoy the walk. He studied the scenery, still on the look-out for any identifying tree or shrub that might give a hint as to their location.
“Quite right,” Reginald answered. “But from what I’ve been reading on the network, that doesn’t even rank as one of the worst stories.” He understood that Cecilia had been taken from her own home. He couldn’t imagine the violation she must have felt, so he didn’t mention it. “Still. I can’t imagine what my wife must be going through.” Maggie had been so close. It seemed impossible to hope that whatever had happened had gone unnoticed, and yet at the same time he hoped very much that it had.
The idea of family and loved ones left behind had been a subject weighing on Cecilia’s mind as well, though perhaps in a slightly different way than the average person’s. She was still more worried about Neptune than anything else. As for her dad? She honestly didn’t know how long it would take for him to find out she was missing. If she didn’t show up to work, they would certainly check on her, but it wasn’t as though she had anyone in her life she was really connected to. No strong character witness to insist to the authorities, ’no, Cecilia would never just up and leave, or if she did she would take Neptune with her.’ She didn’t even know if her dad would know how wrong that was. So she had to base her hopes on the friends and families of other people. The idea that Reginald had been taken at church, with dozens of potential witnesses and his wife nearby? Was oddly comforting, in all the weirdest of ways. His wife would have known very quickly that something was wrong, and didn’t that bode well for his recovery?
“What’s your wife like?” Cecilia heard herself asking. She hadn’t meant to, not really, but focusing on other people made her feel calmer. She needed to be calm right now.
“Maggie is an artist, and a force to be reckoned with,” Reginald answered, smiling warmly. “She was born to be a matriarch. Blunt of speech, warm of heart… she’s the strongest woman I’ve ever met. The night before our wedding she wrote me a letter saying that she had a fire within her, and I was the first man she’d ever met that didn’t try to contain that spark, but fan it.” Maggie was an easy subject of conversation for Reginald, even if he was quietly terrified for her. “If our captors left her behind, it may be the greatest mistake they could ever make. Her wrath will be terrible to behold. She is not a woman easily bested.”
Wow. Cecilia watched Reginald speak in quiet awe. That was beautiful. The way he spoke of his wife distantly reminded her of the way her grandparents had been with one another. They had loved each other dearly, though they’d reverted to a more teasing and mocking nature than anything else in the presence of others. “I’ll place my bets on her, then,” she said. “I’m sure she’s fine. With all they’ve accomplished here… obviously a lot went into it. I don’t know why they took us, but somehow I think they wanted to do it as quietly and cleanly as possible.” She shook her head. “It makes no sense, but that’s how I feel.” She changed the subject then. “Do you have kids?”
In a way, Reginald understood that. They hadn’t actually been harmed, and though their rights had certainly been violated, he had a difficult time imagine careless or reckless butchery on behalf of their captors. Something in it didn’t feel right. He would worry anyway. If indeed they wanted to make a clean, quiet job of it, the best way to do that was to either take Maggie as well -- or silence her.
“We do,” he answered. “Alex and Livy. I’d wager that Livy’s not much older than you, and she’s a nurse as well. Alex is a veterinarian. Livy has four children already…” Reginald’s words trailed off into thought. “You know, I get the feeling from the network that my situation -- that is to say, the fact that I have a family waiting back home -- is a rather rare one amongst us. I haven’t heard anyone else make mention of a spouse, or of children.” He looked to Cecilia expectantly. “What about yourself?”
Cecilia had noticed that as well. For the most part, everyone seemed to be rather unattached. Of course, everyone was also going through the trauma of the abduction, and not everyone wanted to spill their life story on the network. “I’d noticed that,” she answered. “And no, no husband. No kids. But just because we haven’t heard about families doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Some people are just very private.” She knew that quite well.
“Quite right,” Reginald agreed. “And yet I find myself pouring over what little information available to me, looking for any similarity. I try to find a pattern to no success.” More often than not, he was the exception to any rule he could theorize. Quite annoying, that. It almost felt as though the nefarious they were trying to tell him something with that, though that could have just been his ego at work. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time. It was an interesting thought, though. Mostly American - save for himself. Mostly unattached - save for himself. And there was something else. “I get the feeling that I am elder amongst the group as well.”
Cecilia had come to such a conclusion as well, but there was no polite way to suggest it. So far, to her experience, Reginald appeared to be the oldest here by quite a respectable margin. “We need a census,” she announced, rather flatly. “Basic information from every person here. Which would rely on people being willing to part with that information, and being honest with it.” Two things Cecilia had very little faith in, and felt a bit hypocritical for asking for, considering her own desire to hold on to any last bit of privacy she had. “The problem is, I don’t even know what are the right questions to ask.” Not entirely true. She had some ideas. But it was hard to ask questions of the group that she didn’t particularly want to answer herself.
“Perhaps a collaboration then,” Reginald suggested, rather liking her idea. He was of the mind that the more information they had about each other, the more likely it would be to find a pattern, if one such did exist. “We could draft it together, and leave it open to others to submit their own queries. It’s very possible that nothing would come from it, but often times just the attempt at finding answers will bring a person comfort. And I believe mental comforts to be of a great priority in our current situation.”
That was the understatement of the week. Cecilia nodded in consent, knowing she would part with information she would rather keep close to her chest if it meant getting closer to getting out of here. And in the meantime, give people something to do. Something that felt productive, even if it might not be. Yes, she liked that idea. She liked that idea very much.