Rearranging

Shoshannah
Evening, sometime after the throng (if throng can mean two, maybe three if Grace hasn't stayed to inhale knowledge as Sid had) disperses, Shoshannah is still pacing, still irritable.  She'd been snipe-y, downright bitchy, and while she can't really say she regrets it she can honestly say she hadn't intended to be a problem.  Hadn't meant to take everything anyone said personally, hadn't wanted to keep poking and prodding and driving away.  She knows she can't help it, that it's part of who she is, but that's still no excuse for the crap she'd pulled.
Not everyone's as understanding as Sid and Padre.  (I wish Padre would come back from Mexico right now.  That jerk.)
So now, somewhere upstairs on the main floor, she paces (as stated), picks things up, moves them, sets them down, doesn't like it, shifts furniture (it's funny to see tall, thin, should-be-in-a-magazine-spread Shoshannah trying to move a couch by herself), and so on.  This goes on for goodness knows how long before she finally flops somewhere with a disgusted snort.
"Nothing fits, nothing works."

Sid
While Shoshannah is downstairs restlessly rearranging the furniture, Sid has been upstairs installing a lock.  She's good at that sort of thing.  It comes from not relying on anyone but herself for these last few years.  Finished finally, she heads downstairs to return the toolbox to its place in the garage.  It's as she's passing through the foyer that she notices Shoshannah slumped wherever she's stopped, and she peeks her head inside.
Maybe they saw each other already when Sid arrived shortly after work, or maybe this is Shoshannah's first time seeing the change in the Orphan.  She has shed her skin, this woman, peeled away the armor that she wore to protect herself so that her true identity can shine through.  Outwardly, this has been a change of wardrobe.  Where before Sid wore oversized clothing that was old and faded and falling apart, now she wears things that fit and are new.  Her t-shirt hugs her upper body, particularly through her bustline, her jeans ride a little low on her hips, exposing a thin line of pale skin between her waistline and the hem of her shirt.  Her feet are bare and her hair is down and her glasses are still just a little too clunky to even pass for hipster-chic.  One might expect her to look uncomfortable dressed like so after so much time hiding her figure, maybe tugging at the hem of her shirt or curling in on herself as they've all seen so often.  One would be correct if that hiding had anything to do with an esteem issue, or a body issue.  But Sid is neither shrinking away nor standing tall and proud.  She just...is.
Leaning in through the door she looks at Shoshannah and says, "Hey," in a way that is somehow a greeting and also What's wrong?

Shoshannah
Even slumped (on the couch facing the fireplace in the living room), Shoshannah's posture is good.  Clearly, there's a sort of training there - the sort that prepares little girls to be looked at, which is probably somewhat good for girls like her.  Not that there aregirls like her, that she's come across.  But there's only an instant to take that in - even Sid doesn't get to see the Dreamspeaker like this much, for long.  It's fractions of a second before everything's slid back into place, before she's again that hard young woman everyone usually meets.
"Hey.  I thought I'd rearrange stuff a bit - the flow's nice, but it's all big an empty like a show room, so I thought I'd see if I could fix it.  But I can't, with what's here."
Maybe there's more meaning to that, maybe not.  Regardless, she leaves it with what she said.
"You look pretty great."  Yes, deflection 101.  "What's the occasion?"

Sid
[awareness-as-empathy!]
Dice: 6 d10 TN6 (1, 1, 1, 1, 4, 6) ( success x 1 )
Sid
[FUCKING ONES]
Sid
[NO]
Dice: 6 d10 TN7 (2, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9) ( success x 3 )
Shoshannah
[manip + sub, cos Shoshannah's great at hiding things?  Something]
Dice: 3 d10 TN6 (5, 8, 10) ( success x 2 )

Sid
On first glance Shoshannah appears, well, not okay.  But she seems the same as she usually is, quiet, angrily seething.
Sid knows better than that, though.  Once long ago (only a couple of months but it feels like years), she peered through a crack in Shoshannah's armor to see the girl beneath it all.  She's done a wonderful job of patching that crack since then, but what has been seen cannot be unseen.
The quiet redhead leans against the frame or the wall or whatever portal leads from the foyer into the living room.  The toolbox in her left hand rests against her thigh.  The way she looks at Shoshannah is not piercing by any means.  It's steady.  Patient, maybe.  Understanding, definitely.
"I was hiding," she says simply.  "And it worked for a while.  Then I met people who relentlessly cared about me and before I knew it I'd decided to stop hiding.  Took me a while to realize it, but when I did, I..." she shrugs a shoulder.  "I stopped."  Maybe there's a deeper meaning, not to her words but to her reason for saying them.  Like when she talked with Leah in the woods after everything was over.  Or maybe in deciding to stop hiding the pendulum has swung the complete other direction and she's stuck in full disclosure mode.
She lifts her head and looks around the living room, assessing it, and she nods.  It is quite large and spacious.  "Do you think Pan or whoever would be upset if we turned this into the rec room?"

Shoshannah
"I don't care what Pan thinks."  This is far too sharp and quick to be the truth, though she quickly covers.  "I don't know what they did about the deed and all that.  But if it's still Annie's . . . you know what?  It doesn't really matter if we don't do anything permanent."
There's musing, looking around; 'rec room' to her means things like arcade games, darts, fussball and pool tables, that sort of thing.
"Do we have the stuff for that, or the money to get it?  I . . . don't."  What Shoshannah has is a meager savings account that her dad deposits a few hundred to twice a month, that she uses for bike repair, for guitar strings, for whatever.  There'd been enough there to put a deposit on an apartment if she'd ended up in one, still is since she didn't, but that's about it; the girl has to eat and stuff too, and is fiercely independent.  It physically pains her to ask for much of anything, and so she usually just goes without.

Sid
I don't care what Pan thinks.
Sid's brows quirk upward a little, above the rims of her glasses, but she doesn't otherwise draw attention to it.
Then she's smiling a little, which is a little more than Shoshannah has likely ever seen her smile.  "We don't have to knock out any walls or paint or anything."  Pushing off from the frame, she leans to set the tool box down out of the way.  They're the only ones here for now, but just in case anyone drops in they won't trip over it, at least.  Stepping into the living room at last she looks around some more.  "If we pull that couch back," pointing to the one in front of the television, "there's room for bean bag seats.  And we could move the game system down here.  I don't know, what else do you think we could get away with?"
Get away with.  Apparently she has already given up the prospect of asking for permission.  Who would fault them, really, for filling up the space?  And making the place feel more lived in, more like a home?
Standing somewhere toward the middle of the room now, Sid turns her head to face Shoshannah again.
"I don't have a lot, either.  But we could add things, little by little.  Maybe Sera would want to help."  Sera, who always seems up for a little rabble rousing, might be the perfect choice for cohort in this kind of mini-adventure.

Shoshannah
".....I could bring my guitar and stuff down and put them by that grouping of couches and chairs, turn it into a jam space instead of just keeping it all in my room."  Her's is the smallest, tucked in a corner and out of the way - as she generally tries to be.  It's a subconscious thing that's probably obvious to everyone but her.  It's not like she wants the attention she can't help getting.  "Do you have any instruments?  Does Justin?"
There's musing, and then, "We should check Craig's List or freecycle or something, see what we can find, and make someone with a truck pick up big stuff.  Or just borrow said truck and go get it ourselves.  This room has tons of space.  And we could put in Sera's bar."  This last is with a roll of her eyes; there'd been Words about that earlier, though they'd probably had more effect on Shoshannah than on the Cultist.  Maybe this is a peace offering, or maybe it's just an acknowledgement that (she hadn't been able to give earlier) paradigms revolving around drink mixing may be just as valid as her own, or any other.  Who knows, with her.

Sid
If Sid could see Shoshannah's room she might seriously consider asking the girl to switch with hers, but that is neither here nor there.
Shoshannah asks if she has any instruments, and Sid shrugs, her expression shifting a little toward nostalgic, and something else besides.  "I used to sing."  Truthfully she still sings, but it's quieter and mostly to herself, when she works in the garden or sometimes in the shower, and she hums a little when she's studying things through her microscopes.
As for Justin, she simply doesn't know.  She doesn't know much about the Verbena at all.
"I have a truck," she offers.  It's old but well loved and seats only three, but it's helped her move on her own countless times over the last few years.  Shoshannah isn't the only fiercely independet woman in the house.
Her brow quirks at that roll of the teen's eyes.
"What's wrong with Sera's bar?"

Shoshannah
"Nothing's wrong with Sera's bar.  Well, I mean, I don't think she has one - she wanted to put her bar toys - sorry, ritual tools - on one here.  A rec room seems as good a place as any for that sort of thing."  It's not the bar itself that bugs her; why should she care if people drink and enjoy themselves?  Sera, however, may be another story.  "That's something we could probably find on Craig's List or freecycle too, a bar.  We should make a list of this stuff."
This is better - this kind of project perks Shoshannah up a little, gives her focus for the energy that would otherwise just wallow around her.  Goodness knows, little miss Scorpio does better with something to do.  Also, clearly something about Sera had rubbed her wrong, but she's trying to let it go - not because she thinks they need to (or will) be friends, but because they have to share this space, and these people.  No need to make things more difficult for anyone.
"Do you think pool table, or foosball?"  So subtle, the avoidance.  In the way that it's really not.

Sid
Sid doesn't know what words were exchanged between Sera and Shoshannah.  The last time she knew of them being in the same place at the same time was at the cabin, but no one was really talking to anyone else then.  Before that was the night in the bar.  But whatever meeting they've had since then, clearly there's tension, at least from Shoshannah's side.
She wants to know, she wants to understand, but she doesn't pry.  She has her reasons, not the least of which is that she, herself, doesn't like it when people try to pry her open.  Why would she do that to someone else?
"If Sera wants a bar she can get her own," she says, her voice quiet and matter-of-fact.  "Or we can pitch in together for one."  Her hand lifts to cup the lower half of her face, the index finger tapping lightly agianst her lip as she thinks.
"We should start a collection.  Everyone pitches in whatever they can, because everyone's going to benefit, right?"
If Shoshannah would rather deflect, Sid will let her.

Shoshannah
"Sounds like a plan.  We can put up a note on the fridge or something, figure out what people want."  She's under no illusion of the space being hers to do with as she pleases, after all - she's the youngest, the one who's only here because Pan left her here (and yes, she's still touchy, tender, bitter about that) with a job to do.  Every day's a tightrope walk of proving her usefulness, of learning as much, absorbing as much as she can before someone new decides she's not wanted.  It's a thing.  "For now, though, the instruments and console might help.  Should we get them?"
Of course they should.  This is the closest to happy - or at least content - Sid's seen Shoshannah in awhile, and the worst that can happen is that they'll be told to put it all back.  That's not so bad at all.  And once that's decided (and things collected, brought down and placed - and rearranged - and rearranged - and rearranged - to their best benefit and highest quality of aesthetics as Shoshannah sees it (and Sid agrees), the girl seems a bit more settled, a bit less likely to fly off the handle.
"The library still making you happy?  I put my stuff down there, too."  There's a feeling of impermanence in what she says, though it's not intentional.

Sid
Of course they should go get the things that they can.  Sid grins, actually grins at the younger woman when she asks that question, and nods.  She doesn't say much after that, her number of alotted words apparently used up from talking in the living room.  For a while it's just nods, points, sounds of agreement or disagrement.  They shift the rugs around a little.  Shoshannah disconnects the console and Sid grabs the one lonely bean bag chair.  Then they get Shoshannah's instruments.  Sid is careful with any she takes, even though they're probably in sturdy cases, like they are far more than mere instruments.  When everything is down in the living room, just before they start to rearrange things - two people being better at moving couches than one - Sid says, "Maybe you could teach me to play one."  It's hopeful, that.  She wants to learn, and it's something they could do together.  In whatever spare time Sid will have when she's at the chantry and not devouring books or helping Justin out on the property.
Once everything is where they like it (for now, chances are someone will come along and move it again), Sid leans against the back of one of the couches, her hands resting atop it just behind her ass.  Her cheeks are a little redder for the effort, but not too much.  It's plain to see that the frumpy, oversized clothing was hiding a figure that is lithe and athletic, though still curvy in all the right places.
Her face brightens when the library is mentioned.  "Yes.  There's so much to learn, so much I didn't know.  What books did you add?  I'll look for them next time."

Shoshannah
"Sure, if you want."  This, in response to possibly teaching Sid to play, is shyly pleased; Shoshannah likes the idea, and has never been asked for anything like it before.  Denver really is a brave new world for her, even with it's share of same-old-same-old.  Then, there's the question about books and her head cants to the side.  "There's a couple little ones in Arabic about death rites and restless dead, a big one in German that's a compilation of most European cultures' pantheons, with a focus on the gods of Death and the Underworld, a Torah in Hebrew and Aramaic - one of those ones with the split translations, you know? - a couple medium-ish ones in English full of ghost stories . . . nothing all that useful, but some good stuff to know if you're into learning about Spirits and passage between life-states."
Not in the more Entropic, Euthanotic way, obviously; Shoshannah's a Dreamspeaker, a ferryman.
"Do you speak other languages?  I translated some passages, but not all."

Sid
As Shoshannah lists off the books she contributed and the languages that they're in, Sid's face falls a little.  She perks up again at mention of books on ghost stories, not just because they're in English, but because she is interested in learning about spirits.  A scientist, Sid doesn't believe in ghosts or things like that, but it would be interesting, definitely, to learn what other people think about them.
She does not, of course, know about the chantry's guardian spirit.  And the stuff in Leah's head, that was in her head, they were literally figments of her imagination.
"Ah, no," is her immediate answer.  Then she sort of winces.  "I mean, only Spanish.  You don't have to go out of your way to translate, though, maybe there's something similar that I can read."
Mythology is interesting.  And the fact that all these things are about death and dead things and after-life?  Sid isn't really surprised.
She glances at the clock on the wall (because of course this place would have one, probably very nice and fancy with hands and numbers in gold-leaf or something, this house is excessive) and her lower lip tugs down and to the side.
"Yikes.  I'd better get going, I have to work in the morning."  There's regret there, regret at having to pull herself away from this place she's growing to like, and the young woman she's almost always liked.

Shoshannah
"Ah, I'm only half American.  Born in Tel Aviv," she says, as if this explains everything - and maybe it does.  Her looks are definitely a bit on the exotic side, and her accent has never been 100% anywhere, though Texas can cover that up in almost anyone.  "So I was raised with both Hebrew and English, and Arabic wasn't far behind.  The other stuff happened because of travel."
Then there's mention of timing, and all - Shoshannah looks too, sighs, shrugs.  "Yeah, you'd better.  Go get some sleep, and I'll see what I can find for the other stuff in here.  Assuming, of course, people are okay with what we've done.  I should probably go to bed too."
There's a pause when she hits the doorway, hesitation; usually, she doesn't say even this much.  "See you when you come back."  Because obviously, she doesn't really expect people will, not when she's around - too many people haven't.

Sid
Sid's brows lift, interested, when Shoshannah lists her history, where she learned all those languages she knows.  She nods a little, acknowledging and encouraging the sharing.
But alas, all good things must come to an end.  Sid is on her way back to that toolbox, still resting just inside the room.  She misses Shoshannah's hesitation, but she stops when she hears the words.  Looking over her shoulder she's first surprised, then she smiles.  Changing course, she heads back over to the girl who is only slightly taller than herself.  Sid puts her arms around her shoulders and gently, because she realizes immediately that Shoshannah was not expecting this, hugs her.  Shoshannah is cold, her presence is weird, creepy even, but Sid doesn't tense up or offer the contact out of any feeling of obligation.  She is warm, the Orphan, and now that she's torn down so many of her barriers, she wants to share that warmth again.
"I'll be back in a few days," she says, and it's a promise the way she says it.  When she releases her she gives Shoshannah a quirking sort of smile.
And then she really does have to go if she wants to get home in time for bed.  So she returns the toolbox to where she found it.
A few minutes later, Shoshannah can hear the old engine of her truck rumble to life, then grow distant as it carries the redhead away.