triangularity | Open RP post!

Charity thought of the grey robes of the Wardens who wanted to execute her daughter, of the cult she was a part of, and how near she came to earning that execution herself. She might not know Callie's full story, but she could guess well enough why robes would be a bit ominous.

"No, just a very full house. The only robes you're likely to see are bathrobes." Charity smiled reassuringly. "We have seven children. Molly, our eldest, isn't always here, but you'll see a lot of everyone else." She paused. "On second thought, you'll see plenty of Molly, too. Her teacher is the one Warden Ramirez hopes will be able to help you manage what's been happening."

Beckoning Callie into the kitchen, Charity opened the fridge. "Any favorite or least favorite foods?" she asked. "Allergies?"

Callie's eyes had a lot more distrust than her age gave her any right. There were many cliches that had a purpose like 'if it seems to good to be true.' Still, seven kids are a little much for a cover house. "Catholic?"

This was usually when she'd try to force the other world open, see what lay on the other side. It was a good test for the kind of house she was in. Pretty meadows and tiny faeries? Good. Arctic tundras and marauding trolls? Bad. Caves filled with human skulls? Start a grease fire and get placed in a new home. But since that was how she ended up here, and why she was staying here, she doubted she'd get the chance to check. A lot of kids probably meant she'd be in the clear, and the way the grey robes sold her on this place, she figured it was up and up.

They sent her across country on her own through dangerous monster filled locations, clearly they had her health in mind.

"I'll eat whatever." Callie didn't care so long as they actually did feed her, which was not always certain in her past. "How do you know he can help manage what's been happening when nobody knows how I'm doing it?"

Charity only raised her eyebrows at the comment, a warning look in her eyes. "Yes," she replied simply before adding, "You're welcome and highly encouraged to come to Mass with us on Sundays, but not required to do so."

She recognized the distrust in Callie's eyes. Trust wasn't something that came easily to Charity either. It was something she'd worked at for years, Michael's example always inspiring her to strive harder. She didn't blame Callie for it, but Charity knew the girl would have to be handled carefully.

"Harry Dresden," Charity declared, clearly having strong opinions on the matter, "somehow manages to find more trouble than anyone I have ever met. It's like strange and dangerous situations come looking for him." This, she recognized, was less than reassuring, but Charity never intended to sugar coat things. She knew it would only make Callie even less trusting. She finished on the more positive note of, "But he succeeds in helping more people than he doesn't, my daughter among them."

She quickly assembled a thick roast beef sandwich out of the previous night's leftovers, sliced an apple and added that to the plate. Charity set the food in front of Callie. "Milk, water, or juice? We have apple, orange, and grape." Basic staples, nothing too interesting, but the sandwich would be delicious.

Callie debated if this was a test. More than a few of the homes she ended up in would do that where 'highly encouraged' meant 'blackmailed into.' She touched the little coin that hung around her neck, "I doubt you'd do yourself any favors if I break reality in the House of God. People might talk." This was about as polite a no Callie could muster, she really didn't want to. Her current beliefs on God was 'he probably existed' immediately followed by 'so why the hell has all this happened.' Making her far from good company in such a setting. And she didn't really like crowds, staring made her itch, and itching made reality crack.

Callie noted to herself that she was 'a strange and dangerous situation' and she's been sent directly to this guy. But if he could help, she'd like to go home as soon as she can. Or at the very least know how to keep from breaking reality by getting too uneasy. "So what's wrong with your daughter that she needs saving?"

Callie definitely was hungry, she was a teenager and her last proper meal was a day ago. A long day of walking from hell and begone to get here. So her answer on a drink came after several large bites of sandwich. But, she did manage her manners and to not talk with her mouth full, "Coffee?"

"There are worse places for it to break," Charity mused. Saint Mary of the Angels seemed unlikely to lead to the darker parts of the Nevernever. Still, "I suppose you have a point, but I didn't intend to keep you under house arrest here. If you won't be enrolling in school, I'll have to homeschool you until your abilities are under control." Callie might hope to get home soon, but Charity doubted it would be quite so easy.

She stated firmly, "Nothing is wrong with Molly." Except for that exposure to black magic and predisposition to commit it again. Charity and Molly didn't always see eye-to-eye, but in this matter, she trusted her daughter. "She's a wizard, and when she first came into her power she got wrapped up in attacks by dangerous creatures from the Nevernever. She's been apprenticed to Harry since then."

Her gaze was sharp as Charity repeated, "Milk, juice, or water?" She let her children have soda occasionally but didn't usually keep it in the house. Coffee was off the table until they were adults.

"Sure, but even that many people won't all agree to pretend it didn't happen," most of the time one or two people saw. Maybe a handful. Kids would talk about it, and be ignored. Adults... would explain it off somehow. It really got impressive. She didn't want to think how a group of devout Christians would react to reality breaking around her. Her luck? There'd be pitchforks and a living history recreation of Salem.

Definitely a lot more to this story than she was letting on. And anyone who has magic powers that got them caught up with magical creatures attacking has something wrong with them. Not serial killer wrong, but something. She'd probably find out when she met her, whenever that was. Callie eyed Charity's reactions and simply went back to the food she had.

Callie looked defiant for a few beats after the question was repeated. She generally needed the pick-me-up, her power didn't expend much energy from her. But everything related to the fun she had from it did. "Juice, whatever's fine."

"Some of them already believe," Charity told her. In magic as well as in God. And the church might do a little, though not nearly as much as the Carpenters' threshold, to keep Callie's powers under control. Still, some wasn't all, and it was probably safer to avoid the issue entirely. "Father Forthill has a history of offering refuge to people facing supernatural threats as well as the mundane kind. You're probably right about staying home, though."

Charity ignored the suspicious glances. She had a feeling Molly would be dealing with Callie soon enough, and then it was entirely at her daughter's discretion how much to share.

Pouring two glasses of apple juice, Charity set one down in front of Callie and settled into a chair across the table with her own.

"Not sure how that'd work, I'm the supernatural threat." Callie had this small look of shock that she said that. Like the concept had never crossed her mind before this moment. But it was the case, she was the threat to whoever she was near. Only reason this place worked out was the Hand of God. Fist of an Archangel? Knight of the Hokey Pokey. It was something that made this place special. "Churches have long memories. Not a good idea for me to break anything inside of one. I've done it before."

"So other than the Sorcerer's Apprentice, will the rest of your kids know what I am and why I'll be pretty much under house arrest until this is all figured out?" Callie was really more of a to the point kind of girl. But it might be wroth noting she wasn't touching her juice. Not until she really felt she needed to drink or die.

Charity knows the feeling that shows on Callie's stricken face. She's sure she wore it herself, when she realized what path she and her magic were on. Charity never realized that she was doing any harm, or that the man she trusted was doing far worse. And in Charity's case, it was her own fault. Michael saved her in more ways than she ever told him. Seeing that familiar thought go through Callie's head cements every bit of protective maternal instinct Charity has. Callie is staying until she's safe, and they will make sure that it happens.

"Is there a reason why they shouldn't? Everyone in this house knows that the supernatural exists, and not a single one of them will fear you or hold it against you." Not even the youngest. "You might get pestered by questions otherwise. It's hard to stop those, when it comes to younger kids."

"Guess not, other than parents lie to their kids," Mostly Callie wanted to avoid the questions. Well, more questions. There was always that space where questions had to be asked and she always muddled through them. With glares, and not giving anything away. Unless there was something she wanted, like coffee. "I could be completely normal and there would be questions. Everyone wants answers, even if it isn't their business."

God she would break a whole through reality on purpose if it got her coffee right now.

"We don't lie to ours," Charity says firmly. It's mostly true. She has one huge secret that she kept from everyone, but it didn't entail lying. Just never speaking of the subject. "That's probably true. The older ones at least have the manners not to ask, but Hope and Harry still have more curiosity than they do discretion."

Sorry about the coffee, Callie. If Molly's not on a health kick, she'll probably get some into her soon, if not quite soon enough.

Have you wondered what it looks like when a teenager completely doesn't buy that line? Looks like this. Callie leans back and crosses her arm without a word. Anyone who says they don't lie is lying. Everyone has something, something they don't talk about, don't bring up, and avoid like the plague.

For Callie it was everything.

"At least from little kids the questions are limited by experiences," Older kids knew what to ask for the best impact. The right string to pluck for the right sound. Little kids were more like Spinal Tap drummers. Blindly hitting stuff until suddenly a note happens. "Anyting else I should know?"

Charity knows that look well, and it's probably written just as clearly on her face. She wouldn't've believed that for a minute, so she can hardly hold it against Callie. Even if she's not pleased by the reaction.

"I don't know, sometimes little kids can be almost too perceptive," Charity muses. They do tend to see through everything. "You don't need to know too much more. We can do a tour of the house, show you your room. You'll have my sewing room while you're here so you get your own space. No chores this week, but you'll have one next week unless you're too busy working with Harry and Molly."

"True, but I think I'll be fine," The list of things Callie reacts badly to is short and involves very specific points in her past. Maybe the older ones might know what sorta hell Callie's been through, literal and figurative, but the young ones probably won't know enough in the area to ask a dangerous question.

There's a small hitch in Callie's movements at the word 'chore,' she recovers quickly but it wouldn't go unnoticed. It isn't the concept, every kid has chores, the issue is that in her history she's had more than a few 'chores' that were a bit bigger and more involved than simply 'take out the trash' or 'clean your room.' "Right, I'll be kept busy, I should get to know the house first."

Fine. Prickly and self-sufficient by necessity, like Charity was once. Callie is still reminding Charity uncomfortably of herself at that age. It makes her even more reluctant to open her house to the girl in some ways, but in others? Maybe Charity owes something, for the fate Michael saved her from. She slowly changed and grew more trusting, and it would be hypocritical to deny other people space to do the same.

Charity sees that reaction and frowns. "Not too busy. There are plenty of people to share the chores, and you won't have to do anything especially difficult."

If Michael were still working as a Knight, the loss of her sewing room would be a bigger one. That's how Charity spent the hours she couldn't stop worrying, the ones when she couldn't sleep at night. Now, her bins of fabric sometimes have dust on them, because she doesn't need the help coping.

She leads the way upstairs, the bed already neatly made and covered by a brightly covered quilt (Charity's work) show that this room frequently doubles as guest room rather than just sewing room. "This is where you'll be staying."

She makes an accepting face at the definition of chores, so far things were looking on the up and up. Admittedly she was still short options, but it was nice to know she wouldn't have to suffer through slave labor (again) if she couldn't avoid it.

Callie walked in and gave the room a look over, not a bad space. She didn't have to share either, that was a plus. She made note of the dust, the quilt, and the bed. A narrative quickly formed in her mind to explain it. Sewing was a hobby or skill that has fallen out of use due to lack of time or a change in focus. Maybe they were in a money crunch for a while, who knows.

Now it was a guest room that doubled as cold storage. "...And, it's just mine?" She's going to make sure. Because she's not used to 'just her's' space. She has to share, one way or another.

"I may knock and ask to get something out of here, because all of that," Charity gestures to the neatly stacked bins of fabrics and her sewing table, "is mine. I will knock. Other than that, it's all yours while you're here. Please keep it neat. We expect that much of all of our own children."

Charity isn't going to handle Callie with kid gloves. But she can understand why someone who's been passed from house to house through the foster system for years would be wary in a new place. Anyone would be. Charity isn't sure she wants to know what Callie's foster families were like. She isn't sure she'd have the restraint to keep from hunting them down and turning up on their doorsteps if she didn't like what she heard.

But her own home... that, she supposes she can open up. Even if she does always worry about her family.

Callie isn't quite sure how she'll manage to make a mess of things. As it stands she doesn't really own anything. So she can't leave her clothes on every surface of the room. But keeping her space clean is something she did anyway, mostly as a precaution. It is easier to keep track of things that fall out of reality if she knows where everything is.

It's a tough habit to break.

"I can manage, anything else I should know?" Girl was guarded and all business. Her poker face isn't the best and a few of her thoughts play through, but she isn't saying anything more than she has to.

"We'd like you to join us for meals. Dinner is when Michael gets home from work. The kids are in and out, depending on their sports and clubs or after-school jobs. Usually we aim for six thirty. If you're up before everyone leaves for school, we all eat breakfast together. Lunch will be just you and me."

Charity has a sinking feeling that lunch will be the most trying meal of the day for both her and Callie, given her own personality and what she's seen of Callie so far.

Callie didn't hate the idea of eating with a family, not something she had a lot of experience with, but it didn't seem terrible. And being here with Mrs. Carpenter all day it would be nice to have company from others. Of course, there was a matter Callie would have to get some traction on, "Will there be coffee at breakfast?"

Look, she's stuck here and her life is crap. She is going to stick to the one thing she can try and fix. Otherwise she'll have to come up with some clever ruse to get some coffee. ~~Or ask Molly, once she knows to do that.~~

Charity narrows her eyes. "How many years have you been drinking it?" she asks after a long silence. That isn't a yes. Not yet. She does know she'd be sentencing Callie to headaches on top of everything else if she's already heavily dependent, though.

And unless Molly's on a health kick, there's hardly any chance of her refusing to sneak some in anyway.

"I was fourteen when I started drinking it? I fell out of the world on a Friday, wandered for I don't know how long, came back and it was Wednesday." She was lost on the wrong side of California waiting for the system to pick her up and take her home as a runaway. Again.

And it wasn't her fault. Again.

And the only place open wouldn't let her stick around unless she ordered something. It was cold, and she was exhausted, and coffee was clearly the answer.

And yes, Callie did notice how that wasn't a yes. She was sure in some happy normal family coffee was not a needed substance to get through the day. Especially when the day lasts nearly a week.

Open RP post!

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