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Post by Norah Byron on Oct 18, 2011 16:23:45 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i53.tinypic.com/2r3bmu1.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 1px solid #384214; width: 500px; height: 601px; padding: 0px;, bTable]When the quiet knock came at the door, Norah closed her laptop and set it aside, padded barefoot over to open it just enough to see who it was. On seeing Nichole standing in the hall, the redhead gave her a tired smile and opened the door wider. "There's no change. Come in?" With no one around to impress, the singer was dressed in a light, loose top and her favorite raggedy jeans with her hair in braids hanging down her back, no makeup except a little mascara. The room was dim, all the curtains drawn and only one small lamp lit, but there was no sense of stuffiness or mess. They hadn't been letting the maid service in, obviously, but the surfaces were all tidy, the trash cans emptied, no clutter allowed to accumulate. Norah insisted on having the windows open at night, so there was no sickroom smell of sweat and fever in the air. Sam lay flat on his back, a white gauze square taped over the gash on his temple, but otherwise looking peaceful enough with a crisp white cheet pulled up over him, his hair tumbled out against the pillowcase. There was a carafe of tea and a mug sitting on the table next to Norah's laptop, the iPod dock that came with the room had her Nano plugged into it and was playing Nina Simone, that voice like bruises and whiskey and honey-scented smoke drifting out low and unobtrusive and keeping the quiet from ever becoming oppressive. Norah led Nichole over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, reaching out instinctively to push Sam's hair back off his forehead and check the heat of his brow. His fever tended to spike up before the restless dreams began, it was better to keep an eye on it. "He's dreaming more often," she informed Nichole quietly. "I don't know if that's a bad sign or a good one. The best I can tell, he's not too dehydrated yet, we're still able to prop him up and get him to take a few sips of water every few hours. As long as we can keep that up he shouldn't need an IV." She looked down at the unconscious hunter, ran her fingertips into his hair again. "Castiel keeps saying that this is the right thing to do. So we just...wait." A sad, weak smile. "How are you holding up?" [style=padding: 0px 10px; font-size: smaller;] Location: Hotel Room, NYNY Casino, Vegas Outfit: Slumpy shirt and ragged jeans, with her hair in braids Music: Black is the Color of my True Love's Hair - Nina Simone Notes: So worried, and trying to seem so competent. [/style] |
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Post by Nichole Winchester on Oct 20, 2011 17:18:43 GMT -5
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too many dreamers,
LOOKING FOR THE ONES THAT LAST |
[/div] It didn’t take long for everyone to take care of those demons for that young phoenix. Sure she was in the same group as Bishop, and she had lost track of the brunette, who she later learned was named Ruby. Her father and younger brother had taken Sam up to a room to figure out what had happened, and she figured that she didn’t want to push her luck with her father with the way things might turn out. So instead she had decided to go with Bishop, knowing that she would be somewhat safe and that they could spend some time together that didn’t involve her freaking out or being stressed.
That of course was yesterday, and she had attempted to spend the night with her hunter in his room. But she was so worried over Sam, that she just had to see him. See how he was doing, and help if she could. She was dressed in some jeans and a tee shirt, as she really didn’t have much of anything else to wear, and padded barefooted down the hotel hallways to the room she had learned that where Sam was being kept. She knocked on the door, and it opened to reveal Norah behind it wearing an outfit she assumed was for the same purpose as the one she wore. She nodded her head and entered the room, her eyes traveling over what was in it before resting on her brother laying in the bed. He looked so fragile and sick, she just wanted to crawl in next to him and hold him through whatever was going on in that head of his. Norah then led her over to him and sat down on the edge.
"He's dreaming more often, I don't know if that's a bad sign or a good one. The best I can tell, he's not too dehydrated yet, we're still able to prop him up and get him to take a few sips of water every few hours. As long as we can keep that up he shouldn't need an IV. Castiel keeps saying that this is the right thing to do. So we just...wait. How are you holding up?"
Nichole watched the girl attempt to comfort her brother, and her hand reached out to hold his or stroke his forehead, or something of that nature. Instead of making contact, she curled her hand into a fist and brought it back to her side. She didn’t think he would like her comforting him, especially after she knew how he felt about her. She was torn between her need to comfort him like her sisterly nature was urging to do, and to respect his opinion of her and keep her distance. She lifted her conflicting glaze to Norah, knowing that the girl would see her internal struggle with what to do. She was after all there when her and Sam first met. And then when her brother collapsed in front of her, she was freaking out and worried at the same time. She had tried to catch him, prevent him from banging his head against the slots, but she was too much of an emotional wreck.
”I’m barely holding it together here, Norah. I don’t know what to do. I want to comfort him, but I know he wouldn’t like it. He hates me, and all I wanted to do is get to know him. All I know about him is what I saw while in my Heaven, and that doesn’t give me the entire picture.” She answered the singer, tears pooling in her eyes. She lifted her hand and wiped them away with the back of it, and turned to looked a her prone brother laying in the bed. ”He’s my family, and I’m worried. He may deny my existence, but it is fact.” She added and paced a little at the foot of the bed, wringing her hands in worry. She kept stealing glances at her brother, and then look over to the singer before continued to pace uneasily. TAGGED: Norah WORD COUNT: 677 NOTES: She is so worried. [/div] [/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table][/center]
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Post by Norah Byron on Oct 20, 2011 18:54:56 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i53.tinypic.com/2r3bmu1.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 1px solid #384214; width: 500px; height: 601px; padding: 0px;, bTable]Norah kept running her fingers through Sam's hair in a perfectly conscious imitation of the way she'd soothed him on the day they'd first met, when he'd collapsed on the floor of her RV in the middle of arguing with Castiel. She couldn't forget that it had helped keep him calm and feeling safe as he awoke, and some superstitious part of her thought that maybe if she kept doing it now he would wake up again. "He doesn't hate you, Nichole." Her voice was soft, somehow managing to be compassionate and chiding at the same time. "Haven't you figured it out yet? He doesn't hate you, he's afraid of you." She looked down at Sam, her thumb slid along the fine line of one of the worry-creases on his forehead. "He afraid of what you represent. That you're proof that the family that he believed in, that he sacrificed his life for, is all a lie." She leaned over and kissed Sam's forehead, then straightened up and moved over to the wet bar to start another kettle going for tea. "Do you really think that he sacrificed himself to the Cage to save the world? Of course he didn't. He sacrificed himself to save Dean. In the last moments before he jumped, they took everything from him except Dean. Dean, and the knowledge of the family they'd been. And then he comes back to the world and goes to meet his brother again for the first time, at least as far as he knew, and instead what he finds is you. Telling him that everything he thought he knew about his family is wrong. That now Dean loves you, takes care of you, that the bond between him and his big brother, the one that was so important that they've sacrificed themselves for one another half a dozen times each is all based on a lie. And not only that, but that it can be replaced. By you. That you're the one Dean takes care of now. That you're the one who's special." Norah turned and leaned back against the wet bar, watching Nichole and Sam both. "God, Nichole, how could he not reject that? How could that do anything but hurt and terrify him? He's not like Dean, he didn't have any memories of you to be restored. All he had was you, standing there and telling him that--to his perceptions--he wasn't wanted or needed. Then you asked him to love you. Then you lashed out at him using his dead girlfriend as a weapon. Then Dean showed up and took your side of things." "Sam wasn't fair to you," Norah said quietly. "But you and Dean weren't fair to him either. And he'd gotten far enough along, at least before all this, to realize that he doesn't hate you. He's still afraid of you, though. Of what you represent and what you want and what having you in the world will cost him and his brother." [style=padding: 0px 10px; font-size: smaller;] Location: Hotel Room, NYNY Casino, Vegas Outfit: Slumpy shirt and ragged jeans, with her hair in braids Music: Black is the Color of my True Love's Hair - Nina Simone Notes: A hard lot of truth in a hurry. [/style] |
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Post by Nichole Winchester on Oct 24, 2011 0:04:43 GMT -5
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too many dreamers,
LOOKING FOR THE ONES THAT LAST |
[/div] Nichole still wished she could soothe her prone brother laying in the bed, but truth was that she didn’t think she had the right to. Not like she did with Adam. Adam seemed to accept her at face value, where as Sam just wanted her gone and have nothing to do with her. Well, that was fine but the thing was that she wanted a chance to get to know him and him her. Then if he still wished to have nothing to do with her, then that was fine. She would leave him alone, and try to exchange pleasantries when they run into each other at the rare family get-togethers and such. Her hand continued to open and close in an effort to keep it from touching him, like she wanted to do and instead continued to watch Norah soothe him in a fashion that she would have done if her and Sam’s relationship wasn’t like it was.
She listened to the young singer, and looked down at the floor. The red head had a valid point, and she swallowed visibly as it sunk it. ”I get that, Norah. I really do. And I don’t want him to think that, I just wished we could talk about it. I’m just lately finding my faith in the celestial beings that have ’raised’ me for most of my is being questioned. Like why they would think it was okay to put him,” she nodded her head at Sam, ”through this situation, or why they thought it was okay to make Dean or my father forget about me. I find that is not okay, not at all. I just wish I knew what to do to help make this whole thing better between us.” She explained somewhat, her gaze still focused on the floor at her feet. She hated the angels for what they did to her family, for erasing her from existence. And thus she was questing her beliefs in everything she has learned while in Heaven.
Nichole’s head snapped up as Norah continued her explanation as she put on a kettle of tea. Her eyes darted over Sam’s body again, and blinked a few times to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall. ”I know he threw himself into the Cage because of Dean. He never would do it unless Dean was in danger, he would have looked for another way. I don’t want to change that between them. I truly don’t. I don’t want to replace him, Norah. I never meant that to happen or him to think that, I just wanted to have my own relationship with both of them. And if it makes any difference, I think that Dean doesn’t full trust me. Right now, I’m wishing and thinking that everyone would be better off if I just stayed dead and forgotten. Perhaps then, Sam wouldn’t be reliving Hell in his dreams and Dean could then do what he does best without worrying about a sister he would have to lookout for.” She explained what she had hoped would happen, and perhaps what had been going through her head.
Then as the red head summed up what she had told her, she finally looked at the girl. ”I know that. And I wish I could take it all back, but I can’t. I just wished that we could perhaps talk, with civility, and attempt to work this out. Get to know what we are think about the other. And then if he doesn’t want anything to do with me, then I’ll leave him alone. And if wants me to leave Dean alone, then I will. I hope he doesn’t want that, but I know that as soon as Dean knows about his current state,” she waved her hand over her brother in the bed, ”he would come rushing and ignoring the speed laws of the road. Sam was always Dean’s weakness, just like Dean was his. Everyone who knows that could use one of them to get to the other. I just want to learn where I fit in with them. Where I fit in period. Am I asking too much of the world to learn that much?” She finally asked, her eyes blinking away some more tears that threatened to spill. TAGGED: Norah WORD COUNT: 717 NOTES: She is hoping this helps somewhat. [/div] [/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table][/center]
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Post by Norah Byron on Oct 24, 2011 17:25:37 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i53.tinypic.com/2r3bmu1.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 1px solid #384214; width: 500px; height: 601px; padding: 0px;, bTable]"It's not too much to ask, I don't think," Norah sounded judicious, considering. "But maybe it's too much to ask that it should happen all at once, or that it should come to you just for the asking." She laid tea bags into a pair of mugs, watching the electric kettle so that she could click it off as soon as it started to whistle. Risking a glance over her shoulder at Nichole, a flash of smile, Norah said, "I've noticed something about your family, you've all got this notion that emotional shifts and attachments have to be all or nothing. They have to happen immediately and be all-consuming and without any doubts or else they don't count for anything. It's an awfully self-destructive set of expectations." Back to the kettle, as soon as it made the first whistling she turned it off and poured the still-boiling water into the mugs. The scents of chamomile and mint rose into the air, wisping up on the steam. "You want a relationship with Sam, I think you need to build that relationship. Not expect it to appear fully-formed simply because you present yourself to him and inform him that you two are related. That worked with Dean because Castiel was standing right there to correct the holes in Dean's memory. It worked with Adam because he's, I'm sorry Nichole but Adam's clinically insane. He's so broken that he'll cling to anything that seems like it won't hurt him further. But it's not working with Sam or your father and I think you need to forgive them for that. And to decide that if having a relationship with them is important to you, you're willing to work at it. Including being willing to move at whatever pace is right for them." She carried the mugs over to where Nichole was standing, handed her one and gestured toward the chairs and table where Norah had been sitting before the half-angel arrived. "Have a conversation with him," was the redhead's advice. "Not about how hard it was to be up in heaven, not about how rough it's been for you since you came to earth, not about how all you want is to love and be loved and your spiritual crisis about the angels. But about...just stuff. Talk to him about what's going on with the rest of the caravan. Get him to show you one of the sci-fi shows he likes. Order pizza and talk about how you're doing with learning about hunting, maybe ask him for advice on things to try." "Just have a conversation with him. See how you two get along as people without putting the huge weight of expectation and hope and hurt on it. Find out whether you two can like one another as people before you demand everlasting sibling devotion. That's my advice, anyway. I don't wholly understand your situation, I can't. But I understand Sam pretty well, and I think that doing that will work better with him than trying to leap directly toward Devoted Twin Lovies. He's got enough pressure on him, he's not going to react well to more." [style=padding: 0px 10px; font-size: smaller;] Location: Hotel Room, NYNY Casino, Vegas Outfit: Slumpy shirt and ragged jeans, with her hair in braids Music: Black is the Color of my True Love's Hair - Nina Simone Notes: Sincerely trying to help, here. [/style] |
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Post by Nichole Winchester on Oct 25, 2011 11:39:23 GMT -5
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too many dreamers,
LOOKING FOR THE ONES THAT LAST |
[/div] Nichole nodded her head listening to everything Norah told her, she had an idea of something similar already in her mind. The first time they met, she didn’t get the chance to say it, as she just wanted to inform Sam of their shared DNA. She was perhaps hoping for some sort of founding brick of whatever relationship he was willing to give her or build on or something, but she didn’t get the chance as he seemed so bent on not listening to her. Granted she might have gone about it the wrong way, but she was slowly learning on how to interact with others that were not asshole with wings. She smiled a thank you to Norah and took the mug that was handed to her. ”I know that. I’m learning a lot of things, and I should have handled our meeting better.” She answered and took a sip from the mug, and looked over at her brother. ”I’m not good with starting relationships. I just wanted to tell him that we share the same DNA set, and I would have taken anything he would have given me to build on. Until that night we happened across one another by the road, the only social interaction I ever had was with the angels. And they are not very social compare to everyone down here.”
She sat the mug down on the nearby table and turned to face the redhead, with a lost little look on her face. ”I don’t want to mess up again. I want to get to know Sam and perhaps avoid the same situation with my dad, when we actually start to talk. Norah, can I ask something of you? As someone who isn’t a Winchester, but is sort of close to the situation? I mean if I ask Dean, I doubt I would get some promising results from Sam. He would most likely just demand Sam to spend time with me. I guess what I am asking is, would you mind helping me? With doing it right this time?” She rambled slightly, and looked away frightened of the possible denial she might receive from the girl. She really wanted something with Sam, even if it was something like an estranged relationship. She would gladly take anything at this point, as long as it wasn’t what it was now. TAGGED: Norah WORD COUNT: 394 NOTES: Will she help her? [/div] [/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table][/center]
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Post by Norah Byron on Oct 25, 2011 18:12:03 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i53.tinypic.com/2r3bmu1.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 1px solid #384214; width: 500px; height: 601px; padding: 0px;, bTable]Norah's teeth sank into her bottom lip as she thought about what Nichole had asked. Slowly, cautiously, she answered, "I'm willing to talk to both you and him about it, before and after. I'm willing to tell you things that I think would resonate with him, and things I think you ought to try to avoid for the moment. I'm willing to talk to him about it too, to try to help him move away from the knee-jerk reactions he might have and think things through logically, be fair about things. I don't think it's a good idea for me to be sitting in on the actual conversations you two have. I won't be able to help but butt in, and I'll leap to his side because I just do that, I can't help myself, and I think it would do more harm than good." She pulled her legs up under her in the seat, curled up comfortably. "The thing is..." she pursed her lips, not sure how to say what she meant and changing tactics at the last moment. "Bishop's very fond of you," she tried out. "How are you two getting along these days?" She thought it would be better to circle in on the point, and she was curious about the state of that relationship for its own sake. Bishop was one of hers, he had been until they'd argued one another around to being friends instead of enemies. [style=padding: 0px 10px; font-size: smaller;] Location: Hotel Room, NYNY Casino, Vegas Outfit: Slumpy shirt and ragged jeans, with her hair in braids Music: Black is the Color of my True Love's Hair - Nina Simone Notes: Trying to be delicate about something. [/style] |
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Post by Nichole Winchester on Oct 27, 2011 2:01:04 GMT -5
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too many dreamers,
LOOKING FOR THE ONES THAT LAST |
[/div] Nichole watched as she bit her lip, and she couldn’t help but think that she was going to tell her that she felt uncomfortable with helping her learn to go about doing this the right way. And she couldn’t help feeling like a heel for asking her for help. She was practically a stranger, and she wouldn’t blame the girl for just telling her no and that she was on her own. ”I was hoping more of guidance… I know that there would have to be some limits, but I just wouldn’t know what they would be. More importantly what the graceful way would be to go around them if I somehow had made the mistake of accidentally breaching them… But I’ll understand if you don’t want to…” She responded and watched her curl her legs under her as she sat.
She cocked her head to the side as it seemed Norah was going to say something, and then decided to change her mind at the last moment. Instead she asked about hers and Bishop’s relationship, and she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips at the mere thought of her hunter. ”I like him, Norah. I like him a lot. That much I’m certain. I just don’t know what that means or what to do about it. I’ve never had the pleasure of having an experience to compare it to. We are taking our time, until I figure out more about this. We actually spend our free time watching cartoons while cuddling…” It was something that had started the morning after she teleported the whole club he lives above somewhere else, while she was waiting on her body to heal itself and her energy levels rise to a somewhat normal level. ”I actually feel safe with him, and it isn’t the same kind of sort of suffocating safe that I get with Dean. I don’t know how to put it, but I’m not sure where to go from there. We did promise to take care of each other, instead of going off on our own to figure whatever is bothering us out.” She added and then picked up her cup and took another few more sips of the tea inside. TAGGED: Norah WORD COUNT: 374 NOTES: She doesn’t know what to do with her relationship with Bishop… [/div] [/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table][/center]
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Post by Norah Byron on Oct 27, 2011 15:40:21 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i53.tinypic.com/2r3bmu1.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 1px solid #384214; width: 500px; height: 601px; padding: 0px;, bTable]"I think that's a good promise to make to one another," Norah said, still very gentle and a bit cautious about this. Less because she didn't want to be nosy--Norah lived to butt into other people's lives--but because Bishop had been very good about mostly staying out of her relationship with Abiel, despite that he'd been dumped into the caravan whether he wanted to be or not in service to Abiel's protective instincts. And so it made her delicate about meddling in his romantic life, fair's fair. So she just added, "And cuddling and watching cartoons is good. Despite what's on TV, there's no real reason to rush toward 'more'. Taking things slow and gentle is a nice thing, especially given your...unique circumstances. I think you can trust Bishop to set a pace, and to listen if you feel like things are moving too fast." And, delicate again, approaching the matter obliquely, she asked, "Do you and Bishop talk about the things that frighten and hurt you? Your fears, the difficulties you've had since coming to Earth?" [style=padding: 0px 10px; font-size: smaller;] Location: Hotel Room, NYNY Casino, Vegas Outfit: Slumpy shirt and ragged jeans, with her hair in braids Music: Black is the Color of my True Love's Hair - Nina Simone Notes: Eeeeasssssing up on the idea. [/style] |
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Post by Nichole Winchester on Oct 29, 2011 13:03:44 GMT -5
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too many dreamers,
LOOKING FOR THE ONES THAT LAST |
[/div] Nichole couldn’t help but burrow her brows as she heard Norah’s tone. It seemed that the young singer was trying to approach something that might be sensitive, and she was now immediately taking mental notes on this. She knew this was one of her weak areas, and she was determined to improve on this. It was her turn to bite down on her bottom lip in thought as she tried to figure out where this conversation would end up, but instead was starting to get a slight headache. She ended up pinching the bridge of her nose, and decided to let it go as she figured she would soon find the answer to the question soon enough. She instead only nodded her head in response to trusting Bishop to listen to her and there was no need to rush things between them. She already knew that as he told her that they had time and that they would take whatever they needed.
"Do you and Bishop talk about the things that frighten and hurt you? Your fears, the difficulties you've had since coming to Earth?"
The blond looked into her nearly empty cup and thought about the question, then she looked up at the red head. ”Not exactly. I mean he was with me with most of the difficulties, and he does know some of the things that scare and frighten me. But I’m also a bit scared to talk to him about the others…” She finally answered her, the last part was barely above a whisper but audible none-the-less. TAGGED: Norah WORD COUNT: 260 NOTES: She soo needs to learn how to have a normal conversation among humans. [/div] [/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table][/center]
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Post by Norah Byron on Oct 29, 2011 19:45:22 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i53.tinypic.com/2r3bmu1.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 1px solid #384214; width: 500px; height: 601px; padding: 0px;, bTable]"Maybe you two should discuss it. Maybe that would be a good thing to make a part of your relationship with him, and to keep between you unless somebody else asks." She said it as gently as she could. Gently enough that, after a moment's thought, Norah realized that she hadn't actually been clear. So she had to look for a new angle of approach. She reached over and laid her hand on Nichole's, it was too much a part of Norah's nature to touch when dealing with something difficult or painful for her to pretend otherwise right now. "The thing is, Nichole, I know you've been paying some attention to the others, been listening when they talk and when people talk about them. And that's a good thing, that's part of you working out how to interact in a human way. And as you listen and learn, you've heard that so many of the others, most of them, have things in their past that are tragic. Horrible. When I talk to your brothers or your father, to Abiel, to Bishop and I hear about their pasts it overwhelming to me to know what they've gone through, and it awes me to realize how strong they are to have survived it." "But none of them told me their stories until I asked. In some cases asked several times, dug at it until they felt comfortable enough to tell me. With these people, in this society of hunters and monsters and saving the world, pain is something that's private. That you keep to yourself unless it's with somebody who you trust implicitly and even then not until you're sure they want to hear it. Partly that's out of pride, they're ridiculously prideful, but partly it's out of the knowledge that whatever you've done, whatever you've lived through and survived, whatever pain you've endured, the person you've talking to might well have lived through something worse. And that you talking about your history may trigger memories in them that they don't want to deal with." She squeezed gently at Nichole's hand, conscious of the fact that the half-angel seemed to be physically fragile beyond what even a human of her height and weight would be. Norah remembered the bruises that had bloomed on Nichole's arms after Sam had clutched at her for a matter of seconds, she didn't want to hurt the blonde girl when she was trying to be comforting instead. "I've noticed that when you talk to people, you have a tendency to mention the hard time you've had of things, bad things that have happened to you since you came to earth, all the things you missed growing up, all the ways that people have been unkind to you. I think, I believe, that when you do that you're trying to explain to them how removed you are from a normal life. To warn them, sort of, that you didn't grow up in the same way that might be expected of a woman of your age. But that's not how it gets taken. People think that you're asking for pity. That you're using a form of emotional blackmail called the 'tyranny of the weak'. Is that a term you're familiar with?" [style=padding: 0px 10px; font-size: smaller;] Location: Hotel Room, NYNY Casino, Vegas Outfit: Slumpy shirt and ragged jeans, with her hair in braids Music: Black is the Color of my True Love's Hair - Nina Simone Notes: The gulf between intent and perception can be vast. [/style] |
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Post by Nichole Winchester on Oct 31, 2011 23:06:04 GMT -5
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too many dreamers,
LOOKING FOR THE ONES THAT LAST |
[/div] Nichole nodded her head in answer to her suggestion about talking to Bishop about what scares her badly. She was going to have do tell him what scared her beyond belief, and she was actually scared to tell him these things. A whole lot of things scare her, but she had learned that since she has no idea on how to handle herself in situations that may cause her to panic, well besides teleporting or attempting to teleport whole buildings, that two people she currently feels safe and secure around. And well, she likes one of them…a lot.
When she reached over and laid her hand on the blonde’s, she could help but smile minutely and warmly at her. And she looked at the red head as she talked to her, her head cocked to the side as she thought on what was said to her. She knew that she meant well, but she was confusing her a bit as well. Granted she was trying to learn to interact by observing others, but she was still not quite getting the hang of it. She bit her bottom lip again as she thought this over, looked up at the young singer. Her eyes a bit confused on some of the things that was said, but there was some understanding there as well. She let the young singer finish, and swallowed visibly. She suddenly felt low, and she didn’t mean for that to happen. Not one bit. Her eyes blinked back the tears that wanted to pool in them, to perhaps hide the fact that she had been screwing up again…
”I didn’t mean to… I just don’t know how else to say it… And no, I’m not familiar with that term, Norah. I’m so screwing this up…” Nichole responded quietly, her eyesight looking downward toward the floor. She was confused, and feeling like a heel for not knowing that. She suddenly felt like she didn’t belong there, on Earth. Like she wasn’t cut out for this like she had originally thought she might. She had thought that being straight forward would have been the best policy, but the young red head before her seemed to be telling her that it wasn’t the case. TAGGED: Norah WORD COUNT: 372 NOTES: She feels horrible for making others feel like that… [/div] [/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table][/center]
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Post by Norah Byron on Nov 1, 2011 19:25:15 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i53.tinypic.com/2r3bmu1.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 1px solid #384214; width: 500px; height: 601px; padding: 0px;, bTable]Still gently, some part of Norah's mind stuck on the fact that again she was having an important conversation that was basically beyond her maturity level but she'd started this and she owed it to Nichole to try to finish what she'd started. "The tyranny of the weak is a way that people who feel that they don't have any power in a situation can gain control of the actions of those around them. They play on the sympathy and love of those who are stronger than them to get their way. A very benign example would be if someone claimed that a group of friends had to go to the restaurant that they preferred for dinner because if they went anywhere else it would upset their digestion. If something like that happens once, it's not any big deal. If it happens over and over again, every time that person is a part of a social group it can become a sort of tyranny. A way to exert control by preying on the affection that their friends have for them." "And I believe, I really do, that you've never intended to do that to anyone. That when you tell people about your past, mention the hard things you've endured, you're trying to create understanding because you realize that your perspective is different from most people's. And that when you cry it's because you're upset and unhappy, not because you want attention or want to force people to give you your way. But there can be a wide gap between intent and perception. And I'll be honest with you, sweetheart, many of your actions are being perceived as weak at best and manipulative at worst." She sighed and finally drew her hand back. Feeling a bit like a bully, no matter how much she believed that Nichole needed to understand this, Norah tried to pull things a bit out of the personal and back to the more general. "These are strong men and women. They value strength, respect it. Strength more than skill, more than supernatural ability, more than the ability to shoot a gun or banish a demon. Strength in here," she touched her chest, "and here," then her temple. "It matters to them. Not that it's easy, but that you, anyone, can stand up when it's hard. Can do what needs doing and not complain, not flinch away, not whine or try to get sympathy for how rough it's been. If you want the respect of these men who make up your family instead of only their tolerance and pity, you need to find that strength in yourself. I'm absolutely certain that it's there. And it's what I believe that you need to thrive in this world and stand on your own two feet. To be sure in yourself, so that you can create relationships with your brothers and father based on who all of you are as people instead of expectations of what family is supposed to behave like." [style=padding: 0px 10px; font-size: smaller;] Location: Hotel Room, NYNY Casino, Vegas Outfit: Slumpy shirt and ragged jeans, with her hair in braids Music: Black is the Color of my True Love's Hair - Nina Simone Notes: Vastly uncomfortable. [/style] |
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Post by Nichole Winchester on Nov 5, 2011 20:58:51 GMT -5
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too many dreamers,
LOOKING FOR THE ONES THAT LAST |
[/div] Nichole listened to her, and felt even more horrible. She began to think that she wasn’t ready for this world yet, but she only wanted to come back to her family. Even though half of them wanted nothing to do with her, and a quarter seemed to want to smoother her with protectiveness and the other quarter seemed to need her to ground him. She didn’t know anything really about this world, but she was grateful for Bishop. She knew he would take care of her if she needed to get away from everything, as they had promised each other they would. Just thinking of her hunter brought a faint smile to her face, and then came back quickly when she realized that the red head was still talking. She knew she was still a child in some areas, like social interaction, but she also looked like the adult she was suppose to be. She needed help, a teacher but she isn’t finding one very easily.
Then Norah launched into a thing about strength, and how everyone she had come across save for the singer and her small group excluding Bishop valued the virtue. Thing was that she didn’t have anything in her past to make her strong like her brothers or father. The only thing she had that could perhaps go on was that she had died, but she didn’t survive anything traumatic. She wondered what her life might have been like if she didn’t die, and her father had saved her from the fire that claimed her and her mother. Then perhaps she might have had this kind of strength that the singer was talking about, or she might have fit better in with the world. She was suddenly entertaining the notion of just leaving her family, taking Adam and just leaving. He seemed to need her more than anyone she has met in her family…
Nichole turned to face the redhead, and blinked back the tears of feeling like a heel for what she has been doing so far. ”But that is just it. I don’t know about the other hunters, but my family only got that strength starting with the night my mother and I died. They survived, and I didn’t. They got strong from that, even though I was forgotten and erased from existence. I didn’t go through something like that… I’m not strong, not in that way. Perhaps I should have just stayed where I was…” She answered, and looked down at her clutched hands in her lap. She couldn’t even look at Norah anymore, much less the prone figure of Sam in the bed behind her. She wondered if she had just stayed dead and in her painful heaven, if that perhaps her twin wouldn’t be in the bed at that moment. Dean wouldn’t have to drag her around and be her personal overprotective bodyguard. Her father wouldn’t be so closed off to his sons… TAGGED: Norah WORD COUNT: 492 NOTES: She is second guessing her renewed existence again… [/div] [/td][/tr][/td][/tr][/table][/center]
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Post by Norah Byron on Nov 5, 2011 23:55:00 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=valign,top][atrb=style, background: url(http://i53.tinypic.com/2r3bmu1.jpg) center bottom no-repeat; outline: 1px solid #384214; width: 500px; height: 601px; padding: 0px;, bTable]Honest confusion creased Norah's forehead, she frowned like she was thinking she'd heard the other girl wrong, or like she was trying to puzzle out the meaning of certain words in that speech. "Nichole, your father was a US Marine in the Vietnam War. He served five years in the jungles before ever even met your mother, slogged on foot through a war that makes the battles of demons and angels look tidy and polite in comparison. Dean wasn't even five years old when he carried his baby brother out of a burning house, crying as he ran because he could only carry one, not two. Troubles don't make a person strong. All they do is forge and hone what's already there." Norah did glance over at Sam, watching his eyes move behind the translucent lids. It was a good sign, she told herself. Proof that he was coming back to them. "It doesn't matter what you've gone through. It matters what you do with what you're going through right now. You had no choice in what happened to you when you were six months old. But you have a choice in what you do right now. You can choose to work at repairing your relationship with Sam or you can choose to remove yourself from his life. Same with your father. Same with Dean and Adam and whoever else matters in your life. If you make the decision that building trust and love with them will cost you more than you can spend, you're allowed to do that. You're allowed to decide that you want to live your life for happiness instead of making atonement for sins not your own." She leaned forward toward Nichole, her mug of stone-cold tea still in her hand, forgotten in favor of the conversation they were having. "You didn't do anything wrong to these men. The pain they feel surrounding your existence isn't your doing. It isn't your fault that you remember what they don't. It isn't your fault that you were returned to the world unprepared to live in it. You can't be held responsible for anything that happened before you were brought back to life. But you can be held responsible for what's happened since. You are responsible for the choices you've made, and the ones you make from here on in." Quiet, urgent, "You have the right to choose to step back. To go to Bishop and be with him, to give it six months or a year and then try to find a kindly sort of acquaintanceship with your father and brothers without the pressure of expectation. You can choose that. But you must choose it, you have to make the declaration that it's what you're doing and then you have to stick with it. Or you can choose to travel with Dean. Or you can choose to stay with Adam, wherever he goes next. Or you can choose to accept that a journey toward a relationship with your twin and father will be long and difficult and that you will deal with setbacks and self-doubt and rejection and hurtful things being said in service of what you see as the greatest good. You can choose any of those things. You have that right. But you don't have the right to just sit back and let them happen, then disclaim responsibility when things go wrong. And you don't have the right to hide behind 'I should never have come back to earth' every time things get difficult. That's not fair, not to any of us who are slogging our way through life and accepting the consequences of our actions. And not really to you, either." She shook her head, looking near to tears just because she was so earnest with it all. "There's no decision that gets you everything you want. There's no choice that gets you an effortlessly loving relationship with Sam and John and to keep the comforting parts of Dean's over-protectiveness without the parts of that same behavior that demean you and to have Adam just dependent enough to make you feel needed without every being needy enough to be a hassle and also have ongoing attention from Bishop whenever you need it and an angel around to help you with your control issues and nobody being mean to you or afraid of the fact that every time you get upset you try to destroy the world around you. No choice gets you that, it's not an option. You have to look at all of it and decide what's the most important and how hard you're willing to work for it, and how much you're willing to suffer for it before it stops being worthwhile. And then you have to own that choice, and move forward accepting that there will always be times when you're sure that you chose wrong and there will always be moments where you wish you could have had one of the others. I'm sorry that this isn't what I know you want to hear. But it's the truest thing I know." [style=padding: 0px 10px; font-size: smaller;] Location: Hotel Room, NYNY Casino, Vegas Outfit: Slumpy shirt and ragged jeans, with her hair in braids Music: Black is the Color of my True Love's Hair - Nina Simone Notes: Whee, talky. [/style] |
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