Scene #8496:

Owner	Pose
Candy	Candy's one-story adobe house, in the town of Amacuzac, is the same as it was when Tamamo last visited. Much of the property itself is the same, too, save the addition of a massively unwieldy difference engine, the great-great-great-ancestor of a modern computer assisted design suite. That behemoth sports its own paved pavillion behind the farmer's shed, with a sloped metal overhang installed to keep its upper portion safe from the elements. Corn and tomatoes occupty a small plot in front of the house--just big enough to justify calling him a farmer and not a chicken rancher. The birds have free range of the property save the crops, and Bonita, one of his more friendly hens, runs up to Tamamo expecting attention. The interior of his house is as vivid and colorful as it was before. The walls are often vibrant turqoise, yellow, or orange, with glazed terracotta tile and hand-woven textiles spread out on the ground to keep the place warm during the colder months. His living room, sporting that turquoise color on its walls, is missing the bullet holes that were there before, and evidently had been for years. The kitchen in particular is orange with a teal trim at the ceiling, in a zig-zag pattern. The same cuckoo clock dutifully ticks, and the same scratched, aged four-person dining table takes center stage. By the time she knocks, Candy has just finished plating some nopal torta--little slivers of fried cactus, stuffed with eggs, chili, and onion. They smell a pleasant blend of garlic and cilantro, with other spices lurking just beneath the aroma. He answers the door in a little pink apron, smiling tiredly. "I'm real glad to see you, Ms. Tamamo," he says.
Tamamo	It was in the Spring of 1922, when Tamamo had last been to Amacuzac. It's the 21st century somewhere else, and the 22nd elsewhere, so that's not really too important. She arrives in a long sun dress and straw hat, the holes cut into it for her ears being no issue for its purpose of leaving her face in dappled shade, thinking that it really does feel like an age or two ago. Tamamo crouches down on her tall sandals, keeping a bag slung to her side, and strokes back Bonita's feathers. "Alas, I have no feed for you, and if you were to eat only white rice, you would become quite fat, no?" She does not expect Bonita to understand this. Humans don't tend to listen to dietary advice, either, come to that. Continuing on, she arrives at the door, knocks, and greets Candy with a small smile. "Good evening, Mr. Candelario. Ah, might I set this down...? Oh, you did not need prepare anything for me, though it is appreciated." Once they do have a chance to sit, the drink she's brought turns out to be an unmarked, irregular jug, a light tan ceramic. It's only necessarily clear what it is when Tamamo removes a couple of saucer-like cups, and pours for both of them, what it is. Rather, it isn't clear -- it's cloudy. "Are you versed with sake? It is rather unusual to acquire around where I have been living, but somewhat easy in other places. I should mention that it is quite stronger than it tastes. A smooth sweetness will ever distract from a later bite."
Candy	For Bonita, feed or attention is good enough. Tamamo is given a chicken's most distinguished sign of honor--a soft trilling sound rather unlike the clucking that permeates the farm. Inside, seated at the table, Candy shakes his head. "Never heard of it! Must be strong stuff," he approvingly adds, gesturing at the jug, "If you're carrying it around in an old thing like that." He laughs. "People around town say my grandpa used to make stuff from the oranges, sweet as honey, stronger than a haywire golem, and he'd put it in a jug like that." Once both of them have had a pour, he picks up the little saucer, brow furrowed. "Do you toast, with this stuff?" If her answer is 'yes,' then he'll toast--to friendship and pretty ladies. He is seen to assume, probably based on her description of the strength, that this is a sipping liquor, and thusly paces himself. After his first sip, Candy leans back, one arm thrown 'round the back of his chair. Behind him, the little pink apron hangs on the side of his bulky refrigerator. "We haven't talked outside of work for... damn, a while," he admits. "Anything on your mind, lately? Or did you just wanna shoot the shit?" It doesn't seem like he'd mind, much, if her answer was the second. Maybe the fatigue lurking, in the shadow of his earlier smile, was a sign of that.
Tamamo	"Quite appropriate," Tamamo says, to the toast. It is. "Oranges, now? My. I should not mind to try some, were any left." The sake is very strong -- though that's by wine standards, and not, say, whiskey standards. Sipping is still to be encouraged, and Tamamo does the same. 'Anything on your mind, lately?' "Hmm," says Tamamo, taking her time with the drink. "Would you be offended, if I said to you, 'this was an excuse, of course,' and, as well, 'this was a trap?'" She says that without a trace of guilt or hostility reaching her face or voice. "Though it is true, I must ever appreciate and be thankful toward those who aided me in that hour of need. You were the one who suggested it, to begin with, that we should be concerned with those dreams of hers. That was what began those trials that ended with her finding her 'Serenity.'" Another sip. "It is only a little concerning that the yakuza have yet to call in their favor. Ah, well. It is the privilege of an immortal to lose track of time, as inconvenient as that may be." Just the sort of thing one has to put up with, like when the elderly forget what they were looking for. That's the sort of tone she holds, pausing to nibble some stuffed nopal. "Looking to find what is wrong, reaching out to help, even when you were not asked, and doing as you set out to do... to go and, as some might put it, to perform heroism, without instruction, is this not admirable? There are many who wish to be heroes, and yet, it can be frustrating, when they cannot be relied upon to do any more than ask, 'what is it that I must do?' And even then, they tend not to perfectly follow any advice given." Cup held with both hands before her, Tamamo's eyes settle on Candy's. "And so, I wondered... why did that girl say that all others, yourself included, had failed in this? Was there something that you had not done, yet should have done, Candelario? For my Lilian's sake."
Candy	Would you be offended, if I said to you, 'this was an excuse, of course,' and, as well, 'this was a trap?' "Nope," says Candy, reaching over and grabbing a torta. "Not the excuse part," he says. "And the trap part... well," the farmer giggles. "Show me a man that would get upset at being trapped by a lady like you, and I will show you a fucking idiot." He grins, taking a bite of the fried, stuffed cactus sliver. The tart, citrusy taste is pleasantly muted by being fried, complemented by the spices and by the smoothness of the sake. As she continues, he nods along, and his smile fades. What takes up its place is a complex mix of emotions. Guilt is there. Sadness, too. Anger, maybe a little, but none of it is directed towards Tamamo, or Lilian. "That girl," he repeats, in the same way she had. "Yeah, there was something I shoulda done. And some things I shouldn'ta done." The farmer pushes a breath through his lips, puts his nopal down, and takes a hearty sip of sake. It'll help. "Remember that stupid fucking maid-off thing?" His brown eyes fall to the table."Petra made some shitty crack about Lilian's shithead of a father. About the cane. And instead of standing up for her, I just cut the TV feed, because..." Candy swallows. "Because I had this fucked idea that it was 'letting her enforce her line in the sand,' or whatever. When, in reality, she was worn the fuck out from doing that all the goddamn time. Then," he says, "There was New York." "When I got into a shouting match with her, over my fuckup. Over something I did, that made things harder for her. And for Rita. When she came in, few days after, all fucked up, some kinda way, and she wasn't herself. You remember how she looked. Like her clothes were wearing her, not the other way around. All... withdrawn, into herself. And I didn't do nothing to help, because my shit idiot brain was telling me there was no way I'd be able to help as good as you," he says, his voice wavering, fingers digging into the table as if for fear he might be carried away. His eyes bore holes into the aged wood, head tilted down. "That shit with Petra, and Ishirou... all I cared about then was revenge. Even though Lilian needed me then, too. And the best I been able to do to help her since then is something she probably don't even know I did." He takes a hand off the edge of the table, hovers near his saucer, and then hastily takes it and downs the rest of it.
Tamamo	Tamamo nods, making noises of 'mm' and 'mhm' as Candy keeps talking. The maid-off she hadn't been to see, but she'd heard of it, afterward. Of course, Lilian would never explain the details of that, if it could be avoided. New York... "In that moment, I wonder what else could have been done. To leave her to me, I believe none would criticize that decision. It would need be afterward, not in the middle of some important negotiation, that one might approach, perhaps. There... was time, and there were opportunities, that were, unfortunately, missed." Tamamo considers confessing to what else she'd attempted, the opportunities that hadn't borne fruit, but decides against it. Some things are easier to admit to an imperialist soldier than to a freedom fighter. "It is strange, is it not?" is what she says instead. "It was too easy to treat that girl as 'an elite,' and think her capable of partaking in those grand goals... I shall assume, rather, that this is why the Watch accepted her, knowing little of its internal workings. One assumes capability in this regard. And yet, the danger she presented was all of a very ordinary variety. Any mortal could have, if they wished, and were determined, and possessed of a desire to harm another, ask the questions she did, find the answers she did, and twist a knife in the belly of their obsession. No powers of the 'elite' are necessary for such a thing." Tamamo sighs. It's an unusually open and impolite gesture, to suggest she finds 'that girl' as some sort of troublesome chore. "It is difficult, I know. It shall ever be difficult, to truly be a hero, whether to the world, or to a single person. You know, at least, so I think, what it is that must be done, and what has been asked of you. It may be unreasonable, but one cannot appeal to common sense if one wishes to be better than ordinary. If you wish to go beyond this, to give your attention, seek understanding, and to put unreasonable effort into helping her, you shall have my support. You have done so before, have you not? I shall even forgive you for having intruded, that time before." She'd thoroughly scried the mansion after the break-in, and held onto that after all this time, after all. But she can treat it more lightly, at this point, while pouring herself a second cup, and munching fried cactus in small bites, so as not to be drinking on an empty stomach. Little things do help, sometimes.
Candy	There... was time, and there were opportunities, that were, unfortunately, missed. "Yeah," sniffles Candy. That must be what he's the most upset about--even if 'that girl,' who draws such a reaction as an open sigh, from Tamamo, certainly isn't helping. I shall assume, rather, that this is why the Watch accepted her, knowing little of its internal workings. One assumes capability in this regard. Candy shrugs his shoulders. "I dunno," he says. "I ain't really, ah, leadership. But they have a saying, in the North. If you like everybody in the mine, it's not a big mine. The Concord's a little like that too, but they got a bunch of polished-table fucks that'll put their money into it." No powers of the 'elite' are necessary for such a thing. He nods, wiping his eyes with a sleeve, managing to pick his head up to look at her, a little misty eyed. "No, they're sure not. Kinda fucked up, isn't it? That some Watch safehouse somewhere could have two or three Petras. That a Concord office, or a... fuck, I dunno, Paladin blimp, could, too. Just waiting to stick the knife in and twist it, the moment it's 'okay' to." You have done so before, have you not? I shall even forgive you for having intruded, that time before. He smiles weakly. "That feels like... ten years and fuck-knows-how-many me's ago. And even then, we didn't go there to help her. We just..." He throws his hands up in a helpless gesture, before letting them land on his thighs and shaking his head. "Found out, all at once, how fucked it was for us to be doing that, and changed tracks, I guess. Towards helping her. And even then," he continues, lifting an index to drill it into the table in a bit of self-direct anger, "I look back at everything that's happened, and I wonder if we were helping her for good reasons, or if it was just so we could jack off about it later. How forgiving we were. How she eventually 'came around' to us." "That's another part of why I haven't done much, you know. Why I 'missed opportunities.' I hate that fucking girl. How she killed my boyfriend, made him worse for months, how she throws everything I fucking do into my face. How she's right about enough of it to where I feel like I can't even fight back. How she slid into being Lilian's best friend, how she's -so- fucking happy right now," he says, balling his hand into a fist and tensing it. "And I'm over here, with nothing. Because I'm not good enough for her, and Petra fucking knows it. I keep wishing this is all just a bad dream I'm gonna wake up from. That one of those Yakuza fucks hit me in the head a little too hard, and any day now, I'm gonna open my eyes, and see Ishirou--and then he'll call you, and Lilian, and Rita, and everything'll be okay again." "Well, you know what my granddad used to say about that?" Candy asks bitterly. "Wish in one hand, and shit in the other, and see which one fills up faster." Again, he wipes fresh tears from his eyes. "I know what has to be done. At least, I think I do. Sit here, let the shit roll downhill, and shovel it, because no one else is gonna do it for me. That don't make it no easier. I'm going, in a few days, to talk to her sister. Katrina. See if she can give me some advice on... how to let go of bad habits, so I can be good enough for her."
Tamamo	'I look back at everything that's happened, and I wonder if we were helping her for good reasons, or if it was just so we could jack off about it later.' "There was a man, once, who asked a monk, 'I wish to give my wealth to the orphans who have nothing, but I know I only do this for my own self-satisfaction. It is not for love, but only because I cannot stand the sight of them. Is this a good act, or is it not? What is it that I should do?' And the monk said to him, 'Do you think the orphans care?'" She pauses to take another sip. Mm. That mild sweetness doesn't go with everything, but it does go with most things. She hasn't tried growing cacti, but maybe... "The monk was wrong, in part. The orphans care more that they have food to eat, but once their bellies are full, they will care for such things as 'love.' If he wished not to be questioned further, it would have been best for the man to gift his riches and quickly leave, knowing he had done all he could." 'How she's right about enough of it to where I feel like I can't even fight back. How she slid into being Lilian's best friend, how she's -so- fucking happy right now...' "Make no mistake. She has centered herself upon her obsession, and decided to follow whatever it is that she believes Lilian would wish of her, but she has not been tamed. Though I am doing what I can to prevent an ever worse outcome, I would think it best to consider her just as volatile and dangerous as ever she had been, before, and just as uncaring for others. Even when she speaks the truth, you know she wields it like a knife, seeking a place to plant it." This would be the harshest thing Tamamo had ever said of someone in public, if she weren't saying it in private. And yet, it's almost -- almost, but not quite -- devoid of anything worse than a matter-of-fact, observational tone, relating an admittedly regretful fact, as if it to say, 'how unfortunate that she's simply the worst.' "Lilian feels some kinship with her, though I would provide her neither sympathy, nor excuses, no matter how horrendously awful Ms. Soroka's parents should turn out to have been." Tamamo's smile shifts to the rueful when she says, "Your grandfather was crude but not, perhaps, wrong. It is not so uncommon for one to ask the gods for good fortune in their relationships, whether they be of love, family, friendship, or business. No matter what blessings are granted, little will come to those who make no attempt. Even I can only give some measure of help, and not create of whole cloth what had not been." Thoughtfully, "Katrina, is it...? I have not seen her, for my own part, in some time. It is rather a strange family, in some ways, but... you know this, of course." It's barely a family at all. No one's ever talked about 'the Rooks,' as if they were a unit.
Candy	If he wished not to be questioned further, it would have been best for the man to gift his riches and quickly leave, knowing he had done all he could. Candy laughs mirthlessly. "Yeah," he as much sighs as he says, the word carrying a tangible, weighty sort of understanding. Lilian feels some kinship with her, though I would provide her neither sympathy, nor excuses, no matter how horrendously awful Ms. Soroka's parents should turn out to have been. "Ow," tiredly jokes Candy, finishing his little torta and wiping his hands with a cloth napkin. "But you're right, anyway. Maybe, it was stupid of that old man in the story, to think that he knew what love was, any more than anybody else did. To think that you can still know how to do something you haven't practiced in a long time." He peers down at his empty saucer. "Or ever." Even I can only give some measure of help, and not create of whole cloth what had not been. "I'll take whatever I can get, Ms. Tamamo. Even if this was 'a trap,' it's one that does some good, I think." It is rather a strange family, in some ways, but... you know this, of course. "I guess," he says. "Half of what I know about my granddad, I know from other people. Federales got my parents when I was little. My family is... my aunt, these days, and we ain't on good terms since I left. It don't seem like many of us at all have a 'normal' family situation. And I kinda wonder if there even is something like that, out there, at all--even for 'normal' people." He pushes a sigh out, then nods towards the jug. "Another round?" he asks.
Tamamo	"One should not mistake, I think, sins of lacking understandings with sins of doing wrong. It is not wrong to give food without love, unless... one, at the same time, claims to be a parent. Ah, how shall I say this? To present oneself falsely, to claim to have done more than one has, to speak more highly of one's good deeds than is true -- these are wrong, but to do good, itself, is not. Far easier, then, to be humble -- unless, of course, one wishes for that goodness to be noticed, to wash away past mistakes, and one is too humble to have caught the other's eye. Mm, truly, the feelings between people are difficult." 'I'll take whatever I can get.' Tamamo gives a tired, if hopeful and sympathetic smile. "I shall do what I can, for my own sake, for hers, and in some measure, for yours." 'It don't seem like many of us at all have a 'normal' family situation.' "A thought occurs to me, which is this. Who are you most likely to meet upon the road? It is those who had some reason to leave their own village. And who is it that shall not leave? Among others, it is those who are happily in their homes. Perhaps the truth is otherwise, in which case, please forgive my ponderings." 'Another round?' Tamamo, finding her own cup empty, lifts the jug for more. "If you still have the time, why not? Ah, but, families... to only have your aunt remaining, and not close at hand... even for Lilian, she has her ghosts. And, for myself... well, it is somewhat different, but there is one thing I can say. I should certainly like to change that situation. If I had the power to alter the reality of 'there are no normal, happy families, for people like us' -- would that not be wonderful?"
Candy	It is not wrong to give food without love, unless... one, at the same time, claims to be a parent. Candy shifts uncomfortably in his seat. In a sense, isn't that exactly what he did? Him, and so many other people? Far easier, then, to be humble -- unless, of course, one wishes for that goodness to be noticed, to wash away past mistakes, and one is too humble to have caught the other's eye. Mm, truly, the feelings between people are difficult. Candy lifts a hand and runs it through his hair, smiling wanly. They certainly are difficult, the feelings between people. "And there aren't no fucking..." He waves an index around. "Magic spells or fancy machines to make it make more sense." "It's frustrating. Having all that shit thrown back in my face. But it's not like I didn't do it. And it's also not like there wasn't a shitload of people waiting to throw less important shit in her face." Perhaps the truth is otherwise, in which case, please forgive my ponderings. "No, no," says Candy, shaking his head. "I think you're onto something there, Ms. Tamamo." He giggles tiredly. "In fact, excuse or no excuse, I was happy to hear you wanted anything to do with me, you know? Happy to hear your, ah, ponderings. It used to be that... I liked you, because you were good to Lilian, and that was good enough for me. But, the longer I knew you, the more I liked you for you." "Even if you don't got that power--" he says, nodding and lifting his saucer and holding it out, before holding it in another toast. "--¡Salud!--I think you're a really special lady, Ms. Tamamo. A limey friend of mine gave me a recipe for some sweets," he says, nodding backwards to a little basket on the counter. "I made 'em because it was something to do, I guess. You can stay long as you want, but, ah... if you'd take them with you, it'd make me happy, I think, to know I made something that made you smile. Even if it was just a little." He takes a sip of sake. "Thanks for trapping me, ah? Hahaha. It'll make that visit to Katrina easier, I think."