meadowlarklogs

WHO: Hama Sun
WHERE: Safehouse
WHEN: Mid-March
WHAT: Catchall
NOTES OR WARNINGS: Potentially discussions of cult stuff, including loss of autonomy and brainwashing.

Safehouse

[ The safehouse isn't that bad, Hama's decided. It's crowded, sure, and there isn't a whole lot of privacy, but she's got a whole bed to herself and plenty of hot water to wash her hair. And there's food, lots of food, all the food she could ever want in the world. It's pretty good in the safehouse, on balance, and it's totally cool she hasn't left in two weeks. For sure.

It's just. New Amsterdam is so loud and sometimes Hama feels like the sidewalk is going to start cracking around her and really, the whole kidnapping thing wasn't so good. So she'd rather just. Avoid that part. So far as she can tell, nobody's gotten kidnapped straight out of the safehouse.

So really, that's just common sense.

She can be found wandering around at all hours writing digital notes, trying to bother anyone and everyone when they come for breakfast - first by offering them tea and then, when they're distracted, pouncing with the questions - and in the wee hours of the morning, practicing with a switchblade.

She's definitely not going stir crazy. Why would you ever think that? ]

Dream

[ There is a cave carved into a mountain, a fire burning at the entrance, and a much younger Hama crouched down and staring out at the rain. In this place, and this time, she's around ten years old. The rain is coming down so hard it's impossible to see more than ten feet beyond the cave. Thunder booms in the distance and Hama flinches.

She's holding a knife, but she doesn't know how to do anything else except hold it and wait, turning it over and over again in her hands. All nervous energy. ]

They're going to come back.

[ She glances up, still clutching the knife. She's dressed in ratty clothes, a too-big coat secured to her with a length of rope for a belt, and her hair is wild, curls flying in every direction. She's alone. There are three packs by her side and a careful observer might notice a dark pattern splattered across the wall behind her, the distinctive pattern of arterial blood, but there are no adults to be found. Not for miles. ]

Mama promised.

Threaded | Flat

[ Marta is having tea when Hama comes around again and starts peppering her with questions. She'd been lost in her own thoughts, looking over medical textbooks that she'll need for her new job, and totally missed whatever it was that Hama just asked her.

She feels a little foolish, but there's no getting around it without being incredibly rude. ]

What did you ask? Sorry, I was...distracted.

[ a ten year old with a knife is a familiar sight for cassian, unfortunately. at least he thinks she's about ten; the girl is hunched over and vaguely familiar. he takes in the sight of the cave, the supplies, the blood, the almost wild look in her eyes as she sits there nervously. ]

[ there is an adult here now, and he squats down to get more eye level with her. he always liked it when people did that with him when he was smaller. his voice is calm, and any concern he has is completely hidden away. he'll address more of it later, but first he needs to make sure she's not going to stab him, wants her to know he's here to help. ]

Did they say when?

[ It's easy to find Hama, and not just because she matches her selfie. Maine first spots her in the morning as she questions someone trying to eat breakfast. He doesn't approach. Doesn't want to interrupt. Just makes a mental note of it and resolves to swing by later.

And he does, although it takes a few days. Maine's schedule is a bit odd: he doesn't eat at ordinary times, and he dislikes being in the safehouse for any reason other than sleep. But eventually, their schedules align, and he finds himself being offered tea by Hama. ]

Sure. [ Grunted out in a voice so deep it sounds more like a growl. He tips his head slightly to one side. ] You're Hama?

[ It's a question to verify what name she'd like him to use rather than one to verify her identity. ]

[In truth, Clarke doesn't mean to take this long to check in on Hama after their first conversation. It's just that life, especially as she's designed it for herself, hasn't left her a lot of room for time. Having Murphy here (albeit temporarily) was a full-time job, what with the amount of verbal sparring that was happening. It's actually his disappearance that refocuses her somewhat. She can do a lot, but without her connections to the other Displaced, who is she?

At times, Clarke has lost sight of that. Funny, considering her business that she's running, but that gets in the way.

She shows up one day with a small tote bag of things for Hama. All basic essentials: snacks (albeit healthier, easier on the stomach), a water bottle (so she can have one on her at all times), and a brimmed hat. None of these are particularly special, but they're meant to help, especially now that it's getting nicer outside.

When she spots her, she waves a hand and motions for her to come over.]

I grabbed you a few things. I figure you'll be headed out of here soon. [Though she's younger than most, and Clarke doesn't know if she has anyone to help put her up in this world. That's another thing she hopes to find out.]

safe house;

dream.

safehouse;

safehouse