“I have shields,” she said briefly, tapping the quartz disc. “It’s … ” Summer hesitated, trying to fit words around it. “It’s the way you felt when you said he’s possessed. You’re upset, you feel helpless, but you — the bewilderment isn’t the same. It’s really hard to explain.” Her hands shifted on the table, making shapes as she tried to translate things that had no relationship to ordinary senses into words.
“I just know this isn’t new to you. This particular bit of it, maybe, yeah. But as a whole?” She shook her head.
“What kind of shields?” Allison was fully intrigued now. She looked unblinking at the girl in front of her and tried to wrap her mind around what she was saying. The fact that she knew exactly how she felt was disconcerting, but at the same time quite interesting.
“Well that is something.”
How did you explain something to someone who didn’t share the same set of senses as you? She made gestures again, trying to illustrate the concepts. “Shields, like walls. Around my mind. The way rooms can be sound-proofed, or insulated? It’s a bit … not like that at all, in ways … ” Summer made a face at her hands and her ineffectual explanation. “Anyway. I believe you. About the possession. So what is it you think you should be able to do, that you aren’t already doing?”
Summer looked at Allison for a long moment, tongue flicking at her lip. Voice low, she said, “I’m going to tell you something. In exchange for what you’re telling me. Trusting me with. So you know I can be trusted, and that I believe you.”
Reaching up, she unclasped a silver figaro chain from around her neck, and laid it, and the crystal quartz charm it bore, on the table. When she spoke again, a deeper strain was evident in her face and body. “I’m an empath. I can sense your emotions. Your honesty. And I do think that if our places were switched, you would believe me. Because I can tell that this isn’t your first brush with — extraordinary things.”
The huntress’ brows shot up with the girl’s next words. She had never heard of an empath before. But it didn’t surprise her that there were other things out there besides werewolves, considering the discovery of werecoyotes and durachs.
“So…you can tell what people are feeling just by being around them? That sounds like it would be…overwhelming,” Allison mused out loud, watching as Summer laid the necklace down on the table. “But, how can you tell that this isn’t my first encounter with the supernatural?”
“I have shields,” she said briefly, tapping the quartz disc. “It’s … ” Summer hesitated, trying to fit words around it. “It’s the way you felt when you said he’s possessed. You’re upset, you feel helpless, but you — the bewilderment isn’t the same. It’s really hard to explain.” Her hands shifted on the table, making shapes as she tried to translate things that had no relationship to ordinary senses into words.
“I just know this isn’t new to you. This particular bit of it, maybe, yeah. But as a whole?” She shook her head.
The change in tone brought Summer’s gaze back up with a snap. “You think I don’t believe you. But both the things you’ve said are true. Are they related?” Her voice softened. “Not that it matters, either way you’re confronted with something even parents have trouble knowing what to do with. Either way you’re afraid of losing your friend, right?”
Allison shook her head. ”What would you think if you were in my shoes? Would you think that I would have believed you?” She pushed her hair back out of her face and sighed. ”Not directly related, no. They just are happening at the same time to the same person. And yes, I don’t know what would happen if we all lost him. He’s important to m…us.”
Summer looked at Allison for a long moment, tongue flicking at her lip. Voice low, she said, “I’m going to tell you something. In exchange for what you’re telling me. Trusting me with. So you know I can be trusted, and that I believe you.”
Reaching up, she unclasped a silver figaro chain from around her neck, and laid it, and the crystal quartz charm it bore, on the table. When she spoke again, a deeper strain was evident in her face and body. “I’m an empath. I can sense your emotions. Your honesty. And I do think that if our places were switched, you would believe me. Because I can tell that this isn’t your first brush with — extraordinary things.”
Summer sat back with a jolt. “Possessed,” she repeated. “By what? /How?/ You — oh, god.” She’d been thinking suicide, social anxiety, some chronic disease. “What have you — how many of you are there?”
And this is why Allison usually kept her mouth shut. She knew that there was a possibility that this would be the reaction, and yet she said it anyway. ”Uh, you know what. I was just kidding. He has frontotemporal dementia. He’s going to die, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”
The change in tone brought Summer’s gaze back up with a snap. “You think I don’t believe you. But both the things you’ve said are true. Are they related?” Her voice softened. “Not that it matters, either way you’re confronted with something even parents have trouble knowing what to do with. Either way you’re afraid of losing your friend, right?”
Carefully, Summer asked, “What is it you think you can do? What kind of help does he need, that you aren’t already providing?” She shaped her inflection to pure curiosity. No condemnation. “Tell me what’s going on, hon.”
“I don’t know what i can do. I can’t fix this. But I have to try.” She wasn’t sure how much she could tell the girl. If she spilled out the whole story, she would probably call her crazy and walk off. But, there was a small part of her that was curious to know what she would say. “He’s possessed.”
Summer sat back with a jolt. “Possessed,” she repeated. “By what? /How?/ You — oh, god.” She’d been thinking suicide, social anxiety, some chronic disease. “What have you — how many of you are there?”
“But he knows you’re there for him, right? You offer, you say, you are at his side? When he calls, you answer?” She focused her gaze inward a little, then back to Allison. “What is it you think you should be doing?”
Of course he does. She wanted to say but, honestly she didn’t know. ”I hope he does…And I always try to be.” She closed her eyes for a second before answering. ”I should be out there trying to find a way to help him. without him, I’m pretty sure all of us would be different people. He brings us closer together.”
Carefully, Summer asked, “What is it you think you can do? What kind of help does he need, that you aren’t already providing?” She shaped her inflection to pure curiosity. No condemnation. “Tell me what’s going on, hon.”
Summer laughed a little sheepishly. “I found the book to be pretty profound, but I don’t know how many other people would share that thoughts, since it’s a fantasy novel with a masochist as the heroine. All the same, it gave me a lot of thoughts about love.” She touched Allison’s hand. “Are there specific events you’re hung up on right now, or just this general feeling of helplessness?”
Allison nodded. ”Well, masochist or not, I like books with heroines.” She cocked her head to the side and thought about the girl’s question. ”I have this friend…and I don’t know how to help him. None of us know how and it’s hard.”
“But he knows you’re there for him, right? You offer, you say, you are at his side? When he calls, you answer?” She focused her gaze inward a little, then back to Allison. “What is it you think you should be doing?”
“One of my favourite books has a fun way of putting it: ‘we are never given to know the count of the living’. It means, you can’t know the good you’ve done. Help is so … subtle. Like dropping a pebble into a pond — you can see the ripples on the surface, but you have no idea what it changes underneath.”
“That’s pretty profound. What book is it? I’d like to read it. —-I hope that’s true.”
Summer laughed a little sheepishly. “I found the book to be pretty profound, but I don’t know how many other people would share that thoughts, since it’s a fantasy novel with a masochist as the heroine. All the same, it gave me a lot of thoughts about love.” She touched Allison’s hand. “Are there specific events you’re hung up on right now, or just this general feeling of helplessness?”
Quietly, “Do you know, courage is not being without fear. It’s acting despite that fear. I suspect you find that easy in the heat of the moment, yes? When you don’t have to think. But when someone you care about is hurting, you worry over everything. You’re always unsure if what you’ve done is right.”
“The way that I was raised has a completely different way of describing courage. But I think I like yours better. Actually that’s pretty accurate. I’m always worrying about whether what I’ve done has actually helped more people than it’s hurt.”
“One of my favourite books has a fun way of putting it: ‘we are never given to know the count of the living’. It means, you can’t know the good you’ve done. Help is so … subtle. Like dropping a pebble into a pond — you can see the ripples on the surface, but you have no idea what it changes underneath.”
“Like, not being there for them? Or not knowing what to do?”
“Both. I feel helpless half the time. I can barely do anything.”
Quietly, “Do you know, courage is not being without fear. It’s acting despite that fear. I suspect you find that easy in the heat of the moment, yes? When you don’t have to think. But when someone you care about is hurting, you worry over everything. You’re always unsure if what you’ve done is right.”
