RP:Burial Rights

Part of the Larketian Fault Lines Arc

Summary: Hudson and Valrae attend the funeral of Hanna, former nail salon witch, who was brutally killed by Eirik at the ribbon cutting ceremony for the new youth sports complex. Valrae initially denies having been there, or involvement with the resistance, and bitterly reveals that Josleen has tried to recruit her for experiments. Hudson insists that he wants to help, though, as he's uncomfortable with what's happening in Larket and to Josleen. Valrae relents and tells him that he can give the resistance funding, but against his advice insists that she will go forward with Josleen's witch experiments.

Outskirts of Larket

On the outskirts of Larket, beyond the Vibrance river and deep in the heart of the wood witches had gathered. Here, in a grove of thick-trunked and ancient oak trees, was the sight of Larket's oldest burial ground for witches. An old stone jutted out of the ground, gray and smooth from the weathering of time, hip-high and alter-like it was edged with moss and ivy. Surrounding this stone in an ever widening circle were smaller ones, flat to the ground and carved with the names of witches before them, some of them covered with vegetation and others cracked. Hanna's battered body had been wrapped in white, covered so that the terrible gore of her violent death was hidden from the gathering of grief-stricken women. They'd consecrated her body, offered her spirit rest and peace with the hallowed ground, but the ceremony felt alarmingly empty. The body was buried and the stone was set but the witches who cast the prayer spell knew that Hanna's spirit wouldn't rest. They cried and whispered and some cast accusatory glances at Valrae as they began to leave. The witch apart from the others had watched a wounded Joanie( ooc: hope this is okay?? Seemed like she's the closest they have to coven leader) lead the others in her friend's burial with eyes swollen from shedding too many tears under the branches of an oak and away from the stones. Guilt was heavy on Valrae, her heart threatened to break under the weight of it, but she held her chin high. Hanna had been her first and closest friend. While guilt and grief tore at her heart, fury and a mad desire for vengeance burned it to ash.

Hudson had attended the funeral of his employee, remaining at a respectful distance but nonetheless within hearing range of the proceedings. It's become clear to him, at least, that Valrae is at the center of something, and that his girls are divided into factions over it. He waits until most of the women disperse before moving through the wood and approaching her. "I'll walk you back," he offers, not adding, Since it doesn't seem the others want to. They haven't talked about what had happened the other day, but perhaps there's no real need to. Enough time has elapsed that they both know it had been a situational thing. (Right?) After all, he's been at war with the Larket mob, and she's been... doing whatever it is she's doing. He sees Tychus in his mind's eye, and the question lingers on the tip of his tongue. He voices it once they've made enough headway toward the road. "I'm sorry about Hanna." A beat. "That guy you were with yesterday." His gaze darts over to her, unaccusing but steady, inquisitive. "Are you .. is everything .. OK?"

Grief has formed a knot in Valrae's throat and because she can't seem to swallow it down she just nods and falls into step beside Hudson. Her mind is far away from the last time they were together, she's just taking whatever comfort his presence can give her and checking the baggage at the door, so to speak. She was too tired, too angry, too bruised to worry about whatever new knot had tangled itself in her heart over him. The witch felt the quiet between them and convinced herself it was comfortable. Val was wearing a dress of black with a belt of silver clinched around a waist that was steadily shrinking and no longer healthy, because when did she have time to eat? Her eyes were glassy and lined with kohl but bruised underneath so darkly that it was still visible. Tresses of normally shining gold were dull and pulled away from her face in a messy braid. Her movement was slow, maybe a little clumsy, because the amount of magic she'd pulled off had left her drained and weak. "I am too," She replied sadly, her voice tired and shaking. She looks up at Hudson's question, trips over some errant forest debris and turns the air blue with inventive curses. "Am I what? Everything is fine! I mean people are killing witches and the crown is basically ordering them to sign up for this dead list. And no one is doing anything about it! Oh, did I mention your friend Josleen paid me a visit? She basically tried to bully me into becoming some lab rat of witches. And Hanna is dead." Her voice breaks. She takes a huffing breath and pushes her braid over her shoulder. "Yes, everything is obviously very okay. Why wouldn't it be?"

Hudson is in a black suit, which is awfully dressed up for him. He has his hands in his pockets and though he carries with him the general sadness and malaise associated with any passing, he hadn't been close to Hanna. He knows Valrae had been, though. He reaches for her forearm as she trips over some brambles but she seems to have found her footing, and, with it, her anger. He endures it with a silence, his expression growing shadowed in thought. He shoots her a surprised but cagey look when she mentions that Josleen has been by, and the purpose of that visit. This in particular he has a lot of trouble reconciling. That his friend Josleen would have signed up for this witch registration, and beyond that, harassed Valrae to participate in some type of unnecessary experiment. Really -- Josleen? You think you know someone... It's not even a matter of talking a little trash about one of his friends who's behaving unreasonably, she's the literal queen these days. "Val, easy, I'm on your team," he starts there. "It's not OK," he goes on to agree quietly. He's thinking about the effigies, and the way Valrae had sidestepped his question about the man she'd been fleeing with. "It could easily be werewolves, what they're doing, and me and my daughters, you know I think it's wrong. And... Josleen isn't herself, or something, she's being, I don't know..." His forehead creases as he tries again to reconcile the harshness of her rule with the woman who'd shared a cigarette and gossiped with him so many times, who'd dated a fellow werewolf. "This is bizarro world, I hate it, I don't know what else to say," he concludes. "And you didn't answer my question, about that guy."

Valrae's swell of frustration recedes, like a tide, and leaves her more exhausted than ever. Hudson had listened, taken it like the long suffering friend he'd always seemed to be for her, and been kind in the face of her misplaced anger. Her heart, as confused as it was, squeezed with affection. The witch stops brushing at invisible dust on her dark skirt to give him a look that is equal parts misery and apology. "I know, I know. I'm sorry... I heard what you did for Joanie and the girls who signed their names," This was accompanied with the wrinkle of her nose. For the most part, there was a quiet solidarity among the witches even in the face of conflicting opinions. Sign or don't, there was no judgment. It was the golden rule after all, 'an it harm none, do as ye will,'. But Valrae didn't share the optimism of the women who seemed to trust the crown. Hanna's death, in her mind, only served to solidify her distrust. Hanna was innocent but because she was identified as a witch... Of course, some argued that if a witch or witches hadn't created such an awful scene Hanna wouldn't have been caught in the crowd's rage. Val shrugs as Hudson asks about Tychus again and looks away from him. "I don't know what guy. I was at home yesterday. I wasn't feeling well. I didn't even know Hanna had died until this morning." That much was true. She and Tychus had escaped before the witch's bloody end. She'd barely made it in time for her friends funeral.

"I didn't do anything, really," Hudson is quick to say, frowning at Valrae as she says that she was at home. "Uh..." The words die in his throat. Hadn't he seen her, literally hadn't she bumped into him? It's such a bald lie that he doesn't know how to talk to her about it besides straight up calling her a liar. He even starts to doubt that he'd seen her at all, of course. Maybe it had been some other blond woman? (Surely not?) And couldn't she talk to him about it? Of all people. He's speechless, the only sound between them for a solid thirty seconds is the sound of their feet treading over the stones that make up the path here. He even thinks: is she mad because we slept together again and I didn't say anything about it? His brow stays creased. Eventually he says the following, hesitantly, like he is uncertain of whether they're fighting but is tired anyway, "Is there anything I can do, Val...... Like donate money to some... civil liberties...." He rakes a hand over his face, exhales roughly. "You wanna tell me how I help?"

Valrae can't look at Hudson. It's not that she's mad, she isn't. He would have to know she was there, she ran into him, but if he knew she was involved with the rest would he blame her for Hanna's death too? She didn't feel ready for the answer and avoiding it was the easiest solution. He didn't seem to think so though because she could feel his eyes on her as they walked. Birds were chirping and singing happily in the branches overhead. A breeze was rustling the leaves and letting dappled golden light dance through. They were nearing the Vibrance river and the sound of water was reaching them. Now she's looking at him, her eyes wide. "You... You want to help?" She asks in disbelief. "You were with the others, signing them up. I didn't think..." The witch stops. She's waiting, searching for signs of condenmnation and blame. "I'm not signing my name Hudson, I'm not registering as a witch. I'm sure you've noticed... Tychus, he's the guy I was with, he's already done some things." Like blowing up the estate. "He's helping me... Or I'm helping him, I don't know. We're going to fight the witch registry and the monarchy." Her face is etched in this determined, angry way. "They aren't going to get away with what they did to Hanna and they aren't going to bully my people." She starts walking again, faster this time. Her energy is purely fueled by anger. When it runs out she'll be drained again. "It's dangerous, I'm already on the queen's most hated list - it's not a shot in the dark to think you might be too, so I don't know that you getting involved is such a good idea," Money would help. Tychus had mentioned the funding issues he'd run into. Valrae really couldn't afford to turn Hudson away but her desire to protect him outweighed even her thirst for vengeance.

Hudson feels a twist of discomfort as Valrae expresses her surprise at his support despite his presence at the mass registering of his employees. He knows that if it were him, he'd be torn about registering, but probably would, because he's in the difficult question of being a (former? Lost in the divorce?) friend to the regent. Being a witch or a werewolf can be invisible, if you want it to be. His breath catches as she says, conclusively, that she won't register as a witch. So now she's acknowledging that she'd been there, she'd just hidden it from him for Reasons. As if he'd be on any side but hers, it makes him feel unsettled. "OK," he says, uncertainly, because he's thinking: OK, but Jos knows you are a witch, as Alvina told her...! He's less concerned about himself, as ever, and shakes his head in response to Valrae, frowning openly. "Well it's weird, with Josleen and Alvina," is all he'll say about it. "Can I give you money, I don't want to know what you'll do with it, but maybe, try to stop this .. stuff .. it feels wrong. You think someone is good people, but then this..." He is struggling to explain his feelings about Josleen, about maybe Valrae is the wrong audience. "...why do they need a registry... I don't know." He looks at the sky, as if asking for forgiveness, and then says, "I mean you and I almost had a kid together and when I think about that and all this stuff, it feels uh," he exhales, "very personal. So..." he moves the subject along quickly, "Let me give you money. I have a lot."

Valrae's chin raised a defiant fraction. Her jaw is set, her eyes are red from crying but they're determined and unafraid. She answers his unspoken thought. "I'm not signing because I'm trying to hide who, what, I am. I've never hidden who I am." She watches as Hudson tries to work through his feelings on Josleen's character. She'd never known the woman before her time as queen, so her opinion is easier settled. In truth, this whole persecution of witches felt personal. How could it be a coincidence that the new queen, friend to Alvina the woman who's boyfriend she'd had an affair with, would suddenly develop a fear of witches as soon as she rolled into town? It wasn't. And in Valrae's mind, any woman willing to let innocent people be harmed and killed because of her personal feelings on a relationship that wasn't even her own... Well, wasn't fit to be queen of anyone. "They need a registry because small minded people are blinded by fear when faced with things they don't understand and cannot control." She answered coldly. Hudson's words stab into a delicate place in her heart. It's already been a long day, so tears are quick to spring into her tired eyes. "It is personal Hudson," She pushes angrily at her hair. "All of this is happening because of me. Every move I make, every stupid decision, has come back around to hurt or kill people I care about." Their unborn child, Hanna. Maybe even Quizzical's end came from having known her. All of this guilt was threatening to drown her. She swiped at the tears on her cheeks. "We do need money." She admitted quietly.

Little does Valrae know that Hudson is worrying about the same coincidence. "Yeah, people like a scapegoat," he agrees with Valrae's comment about how fear has led to the creation of witch registries. He's also thinking that witches make a convenient target. Easier, less dangerous, perhaps (although jury's out on that), to hate than werewolves and others who go bump in the night. It doesn't help, their personal story. He knows she's tearing up beside him but his complicity is weighing on him like a sack of bricks. He looks at the ground. "You don't know for 100% certain why things are happening, but I hear you and it sucks," he says. He reaches to catch her hand in his and they stop walking for a second. He squeezes it, looks at her. "I'm gonna give you money then, OK," he tells her, watching her expression. He releases her, suddenly conscious that they're close to town and in public and although the other day had happened, he doesn't know what he's doing, about anything, except what he's doing that very second. "I dunno... I feel like you're strapping a target to your back here." Or maybe it's Alvina who had done that, by telling Josleen, literal Queen and petty individual (apparently!). He swallows a lump in his throat. "Do you want me to talk to Josleen? I don't know if she'd see me, but ... did she say what experiments, even? Like, what...? How is that right, experimenting on people?"

Valrae's hand feels cold in his, which is warm and nice and strong - and okay not okay. She frowns at him. "Don't I though?" She replies cryptically. The witch isn't blaming Alvina though, Josleen is the source of her endless frustration. She made her feel powerless, something that Valrae couldn't stand, and so she made her reckless as well. He tells her he'll give her the money and the anger on her face drains. She's left with misery and exhaustion. "Thank you, Hudson. It means more than you know." He pulls his hand away. Her next answer is parallel to his thoughts, though the antagonist of her mind isn't the same as his might be. "Maybe, but I didn't put it there. The queen did." She shakes her head. "Putting my name on that list wont change anything but the way I feel about myself." She stops again, suddenly, and reaches out to touch his arm. "No!" Her eyes are wide, "You can't do that. Don't say anything to her..." Her face turns pleading, her dark eyes searching his own. "I'm going to do it. Whatever this research is."

Hudson is still having a hard time blaming Josleen. Surely she's being influenced by Macon, other shadowy figures, the Josleen he knows would never have... and yet she, by herself, approached Valrae for this possibly dangerous, most definitely petty, exercise in 'science.' Valrae doesn't want him to talk to her, but he really, really, wants to. In part because he wants to resolve the Josleen he hears about with the Josleen he knows. "I can't tell you what to do but, please don't, with this... experiment thing." He gives Valrae a look that rings in his discomfort. They've reached the edge of town, now, and there's a taxi carriage heading their way. Hudson curses in an exhale, remembering that he'd booked a meeting fairly close to the funeral, and that he'd better get going. "Well that's gonna be me," he says. He holds up a hand to flag it down, and as the driver slows it, he bridges the distance to wrap Valrae in his arms. It's a quick hug, though he kisses her on the top of her head and squeezes her on the hand again as he releases her. It's only a moment and yet the closeness of contact dredges up memories from the night in the lab. That had been a mistake, or so he thinks now, as he briefly considers trying to repeat it. Better to not. Whatever rules or lack thereof exist between him and Alvina, there are some unspoken no zones between them and Valrae is one of them. Maybe he should have had her erased. He looks at the carriage, rolling to a stop. "I'm sorry, about Hanna, about this garbage," he says, opening the door. "I'll leave you a note about the money."