It was the music that drew her in these doors. A passerby had entered first and she’d heard the vocals drift out onto the street. Well, she was set on exploring, and what better to discover than some music? What she found upon entering, however, wasn’t a lively band and a joyful crowd. No, these were simply customers wandering as the music emitted from, well, the ceiling. Not satisfied by that discovery, Caoimhe had frowned, but there had been more to explore. Aisles and aisles of things, like the markets and stores they’d traveled to from their glen in Ireland. Larger, though, and cold, and with so many new items to take note of. The world in the last few days has seemed almost completely composed of new things – how shocking, then, to round a corner and almost run smack into someone strikingly familiar. “Oh!” Caoimhe halts quickly, fumbling with the bottle in her hands thanks to the sudden movement and the sheer surprise. It’s set aside, and Caoimhe blinks a few times as if clearing her vision. “Gemma – it’s really you?” Of course, she’d focused mainly on her suffering husband over these whirlwind, distant years. But she had seen glimpses of her old friend, now and then. Still, though, this comes as a shock. “I’d no idea you were here – I’ve only just arrived, myself, I…” There’s so much to say, to explain, to ask about. But a few things seem more important than most, and an anxious hand runs down her scarred throat before Caoimhe settles into them. “Gemma, I’m so sorry. If I’d known how to reach out to you, I would have. We didn’t mean to leave you the way we did, love.” We – herself, Faolan, and of course, the children, whose images in her mind still ache. “How are you? Alright, I hope?”
It seemed like Lethe was seven miles of the world’s most hellish reunion episode these days. She’d run into her sister, then two people she had worked with off and on in her FBI days, and now...Caoimhe? This place was a fucking nightmare, clearly. Or she was hallucinating, she wasn’t sure at this point which was worse. “You died. I know you died, I saw the graves after the fact. So why...no, how exactly are you shopping for pesto right now?” Gemma said flatly, trying to look less affected than she actually was. Squared shoulders, lips pressed into a thin line, but she was sure that the eyes gave it away. Just arrived? Just arrived, hmm. What did she know about Lethe thus far? It’s a mess, public events are to be avoided, and ah. The faint way that Caoimhe is and isn’t quite solid clicks something in her head. Shades. It was far easier to dig through her head for hard facts than deal with the gut punch of being apologized to by the only mother figure she found after leaving home apologize for being killed. Gave her a moment to breathe, to drag herself away from any precipices that might make her spill her guts about the time they were apart and what losses she had sustained during those years. We? Gemma frowned, then nodded. “He had things to deal with, grief to nurse. I wouldn’t blame you in a thousand years for what happened to you, let alone him for taking time to try to heal his wounds after the fact.” She said, realizing as she shifted her basket on her arm that she could feel emotions battering at her with every word, trying to slip out further than they had already. “You found him again, right? If anyone deserves to find the one they love again, it’s you two.”
