Kowa/Meria - Inner Universe

Meria Boucher || Just as the eighth bell finishes tolling the hour, there's a soft, hesitant knock against the door to Kowa's office.
Kowa Brimaine: "Come in," Kowa calls, taking the kettle off the fire. That her tickles of fate so often involve tea is something she refuses to think too hard about.
Meria Boucher || The door opens, a soft click of the latch and a slow easing motion that seems designed to muffle any creaks. Meria Boucher slips in like a woman who's having a secret tryst, not like someone going to a doctor's appointment, but hey... at least she doesn't slam the door? "Good evening, Miss Brimaine," Meria greets in her usual monotone, punctuation it with a small bow. "How are you faring?"
Kowa Brimaine bows gracefully to her, looking somewhat tired but in decent spirits. A small corsage of flowers is pinned to her purple blouse. "Well, thank you. And yourself? I've prepared some tea if you'd like a cup? There's quiche as well if you're hungry..."
Meria Boucher: I accept and welcome your hospitality. I am well. I recently finished conducting business in Ul'dah. It good to be... what is the phrase. To have punched the clock?
Meria Boucher mumbles to herself, "No, that seems incorrect."
Kowa Brimaine waves for her to sit, pouring two cups of a subtly floral red brew. "For your husband's business or your own affairs?" she asks, cutting a slice of quiche and setting the tea tray on the table.
Meria Boucher joints her, sitting a polite distance away. "Both... sort of? We are each associated with a larger information brokerage and trading firm. Some of Isaudorel's business is conducted through said organization, and while a number of my work hours are spent aiding Isaudorel, I also oversee other aspects of our commercial ventures. Namely..."
Meria Boucher watches Kowa pour, then finally reaches up to take off the mask. "Loss prevention, I suppose you'd call it."
Kowa Brimaine wonders, glancing at the woman's clothing, just how strong of a euphemism /loss prevention/ is. "I see," she murmurs, taking up her cup with a soft hum - no plate in front of her. "A productive evening, I hope?"
Meria Boucher reaches out to cradle her drink with her hand, and then looks over at Kowa's desk, nodding at the piles of paperwork. "It was. Has yours been as well?"
Kowa Brimaine: "Yes, thankfully. Finally getting some time to work on personal research as well as handle other matters." A faint smile. "I'll be doing a divination ritual next sennight, in fact. It's been some time. I'm looking forward to it."
Meria Boucher nods. "I wish you luck. You mentioned before you do not do as much divining as you like - do you ever do so regarding your daily work? Seeking information on what you might expect from the coming days, or seeking counsel on how to handle medical problems?"
Kowa Brimaine looks thoughtful. "Only occasionally. The Observatorium places a shroud of scarcity on such things, giving the impression that they are to be used as last resorts. The feeling that the stars cannot be troubled with petty problems is one I am working to overcome." She looks vaguely embarrassed. "I have, for, ah. My partner, from time to time. Ensuring certain items find their way into her pockets for difficult cases. I don't believe she's noticed."
Meria Boucher: Stars cannot be troubled with petty problems... Hm. I would argue that if one were to anthropomorphize starlight, then everything would seem trivial given how grand the scale they oversee is. What is the difference between the troubles of an ant and a king seen from so high above? Yet, the stars contain all. Searching the skies for answers troubles it as much as it troubles the clouds the skywatchers use to predict the weather.
Meria Boucher: ...However.
Meria Boucher: The use you just described is... endearing. Perhaps she thanks the gods or the kami for her fortune, but know that those prayers go to you.
Kowa Brimaine 's immediate image of Waku kneeling is highly inappropriate and swiftly coughed through. "Anything for her safety," is the soft reply. "And you are right, as usual. I will think on that as I prepare." A small smile. "I'd wondered, by the by - how did you levequest go?"
Meria Boucher tilts her head, mulling it over. "Exactly as I expected it to," is her reply. "Which is to say, well - our mission is accomplished - but those with a lower degree of tolerance for nonsense might have had an unfortunate time. Spriggans were involved."
Kowa Brimaine blinks at her. "...spriggans," is the faint reply. "I...see. Your impressions of the Priestess?"
Meria Boucher: She is... hm. There is a term for my impression of her that one of my colleagues in Shirogane taught me. It is 'gap moe'.
Kowa Brimaine: "Gap...moe'? I've never heard that before."
Meria Boucher: It is a strange but useful term. It describes the endearing or appealing qualities of a person's personality that arise from contradictions in characteristics. For example, her manner comes across as stoic, serious, and dour. Yet, she cares deeply and warmly for those close to her, however she does not know how to be wholly honest with those feelings.
Meria Boucher: 'Gap moe', in this case, refers to the gap between a tender affectionate heart and a gloomy atmosphere.
Meria Boucher nods, like a professor giving a lecture.
Kowa Brimaine can't help a soft laugh. "Impressions I share wholeheartedly. She is a painfully kind woman if one has the patience to interpret her manner. I'm quite fond of her." She sets the teacup down. "Enough gossip, do you think? I'd like to hear more about what brings you here today and what specifically you need from me."
Meria Boucher nods, taking another sip of tea before setting it down to start on the quiche. Best to have that done with before they start. "I sustained numerous injuries from a rather... serious incident near the end of my career," she explains, cutting her food with the edge of her fork. "Which necessitated the emergency amputation of a major limb and a few of my extremities. During the fall I also broke numerous bones and sustained severe damage to various joints and ligaments. Due to the situation -
Meria Boucher: - the medical care I received following it was... substandard. As I mentioned before, I still feel - pain from the arm that is gone, but my combat performance has been seriously hampered by the current fragility of my joints, and I have been... sleeping far, far more than I used to. Manipulating aether is, as well, harder and more exhausting than it used to be."
Kowa Brimaine frowns thoughtfully. "Do you suspect direct damage to your aetherflow as well, or is it that the strain of maintaining your body is preoccupying it, so to speak?"
Meria Boucher bites her lip. "It is... unclear," she ventures. "However, I - have some aetherial oddities that could be... contributing factors." The way she speaks about this is extremely careful, like she's thinking about the ramifications of each word before she speaks. "It is quite possible, but at the very least, I know that the current state of my body is not helping matters. Along with that. Ah."
Meria Boucher pauses. Takes a breath, lets it out. Her expression does not change. "There is something I would appreciate a second opinion on. Or, rather. Confirmation about something, to set my mind at ease."
Kowa Brimaine sets her teacup down. "Of course. Go on."
Meria Boucher says, completely flatly, "I wish to confirm that I am not, in fact, some manner of void creature stuffed into the corpse of a girl."
Kowa Brimaine is silent for perhaps a minute too long. "Are you asking me," she eventually says, "to confirm whether or not you are Voidtainted and/or undead?"
Meria Boucher: Yes. I don't think I am, but it seems like something I should confirm.
Meria Boucher: ...And I can't trust my own judgement, for obvious reasons.
Kowa Brimaine: "Having once met a walking corpse woman, I can say with near-certainty that you are not /that/. Let us start there before confronting the Void, yes? Are you comfortable with an aetherial scan?"
Meria Boucher: I'd like to think so, but someone dear to me made certain accusations, and I'd like to be thorough.
Meria Boucher doesn't even PAUSE at the 'walking corpse woman thing'. "As for an aetherial scan - yes, but if you start getting a headache, I recommend ceasing the procedure immediately."
Kowa Brimaine resolves to tell her nothing of the sort. "Are you warding yourself in any way, shape, or form?"
Meria Boucher: I am, yes. Ah, hm - it's been awhile since I've had an indepth conversation about these matters, so I apologize if I use any strange, foreign, or incorrect terminology. You could consider it a sort of... aetherial dampener?
Kowa Brimaine: "Yes, exactly. Magic with a dampening or concealing effect that would confound anything I am looking for."
Meria Boucher: I can lower it. It initially started as a method for remaining hidden in the field, but also, those with aetheric sensitivities have reported feeling ill around me. I do not wish to cause you any strain, so please tell me if you need any space or time.
Kowa Brimaine rises, drifts to her desk. A vial is swiftly uncapped and downed, the empty bottle set amidst a sea of paperwork. "Very well," she says, hand glowing with aetherial light as she sits beside Meria. "Let's have a look."
Meria Boucher || The moment when the self-imposed aetherial shielding slips from Meria is near tangible, especially to Kowa, who has purposefully opened herself up to See, because it is bright and so thickly saturated that it comes with the odd impression of ozone. It is the sort of light that hums, whose waves of pulsating cosmic radiation reveberate in a constant, uncanny drone. Woven through it are six carvings of light echoing across her back, each contributing their own rolling hum. It's like wind -
Meria Boucher - in a cave, it's like the warbling notes of a crystal being struck, it is like the chasm of some massive /thing/ breathing, it is like the sound of blood pumping through the veins of someone who has plugged their ears. Something crackling and piercing laid over a thumping hum of a piano key struck and left to ring; like unshielded magitek or the rumbling of the star's core. Kowa may recognize it, if she's ever tuned her heart to the sky and listened to just how loud space truly is. Meria -
Meria Boucher - is not Voidtainted, nor is she some manner of wight of undead. But she is in possession of a vast quantity of aether that constantly thunders through her body.
Kowa Brimaine had once promised Lux that she would not let the cosmic void consume Rashk, and in the fraction of mind clinging desperately to thought she wonders if she isn't being devoured herself. It /hurts/, blinds, a tornado against Kowa's shields, stirring the otherself inside her until she's ready to choke. And she /knows/ what she sees, knows it in the gates, knows it in star-screaming and the nothing-everything. Somehow, space sits beside her, eating quiche.
Kowa Brimaine ||There is a powerful and nauseating urge to worship.
Kowa Brimaine: "...well. You're neither."
Meria Boucher || With all of her camouflage stripped away, that carefully constructed veneer letting her at least pass for a facsimile of a normal girl, it's clear to see why Meria's aether has always, before this, seemed so reserved. Closed off. Contained, not bleeding out into the wind or from each careful breath, for now even the slightest shift of it is broken into six simultaneous layers of six simultaneous interpretations of six simultaneous facets of reality. Concern sings, and she tries to pull -
Meria Boucher - herself back, at least muffle it under a /blanket/ like a child dampening itself from the world beneath wool. "That is. Good to hear. Are you alright, Miss Brimaine?" The even tenor of her voice seems unable to convey even a small fraction of the summation of All.
Kowa Brimaine 's breathing is ragged and then interrupted by coughing, fingers scrambling for a handkerchief. "I'm fine," is the hoarse reply, chest and aether seizing before she breathes through the former and pulls the latter close around her. "I should be asking you that, Miss Boucher. How - how much /pain/ - " She can't seem to decide what to ask, questions intersperced with wheezing.
Meria Boucher reaches for her instinctively, but the gesture is aborted as soon as she realizes what her traitorous hand wishes to do. What comfort could she provide this woman? What solace, what succor? Her fingers curl inward, and she looks down at her quiche. She picks up her fork. Its weight is an anchor. "I am used to it," she says simply. Then, "Please, take it... slow. You are not fine."
Kowa Brimaine murmurs a curse and rests her forehead upon Meria's shoulder, ears bowing. The gesture is as quiet as she falls, trying to catch her breath. "I said once that you were amazing," is the eventual reply. "I had no idea how much so until now."

Meria Boucher seems at a complete loss at the contact, a brief tremor of churning aether before she slams it beneath her protective curtain. If Kowa listens though, she can still her the hum. Distant, softer, but it's there now that she knows what to look for. Slowly, Meria raises a hand to the woman's hair. She strokes it once, trying to offer some echo of consolation. "I am... uncertain what to say, but I have brought a great deal of suffering to many people, Miss Brimaine. I wish to be very careful -
Meria Boucher: - that this does not include you."
Kowa Brimaine smiles humorlessly, tail curling at the touch. Her aether expands as though to chase Meria's own, still tremulous beneath its wards. "I'd been worrying about doing the same to you, Miss Boucher."
Meria Boucher || That question before - what is the most important side of a cube? - is rendered into a starker clarity, even as muffled as it is. Each facet seems to inherently contridict the others, and yet each pulsation of it is /true/. "I am difficult to hurt, and even more difficult to stop. I - hope that does not sound like arrogance. I mean it not to boast. I simply... interpret things differently than many. Though," A sigh. A vibration that echoes through the whole, in at least some variety of
Meria Boucher - it. "...I am much, much weaker now than I was. Possibly for the best."
Kowa Brimaine: "/This/ is weaker?" is the incredulous, if soft question. She does not have the energy for her usual stark directness - /an inquisitor,/ Janijaire had called it. "I want to ask how, but I know it's none of my business. My concern is firstly you knowing that no, you are neither a Voidsent nor undead, and secondly what I can do to help you manage your pain."
Meria Boucher: ...Much. And I do not mind questions, though some things are difficult to talk about, for I was not born with a poet's ability to trap the intransient elements of this world within words. However. ...I appreciate that knowledge, Miss Brimaine, more than I can say. And I do not - expect you to treat the sum of my condition. Even just... individual parts are important. Flesh, bone, aether - every piece of relief is...
Meria Boucher: I am used to it, pain. But I would much rather it not wear away at my body. I have a fiancee to think of, after all.
Kowa Brimaine nods slowly, ears low with worry. "Does he know about this?"
Meria Boucher: ...Nn... not the whole. He knows parts; pieces. I had been sworn to silence by someone whose judgement I thought I could trust, and now... I am trying to take things slow with Isaudorel. I fear not his judgement, for fully know he'd love every aspect of me, but I fear he would not handle the story well. Nor the true depth of what it is to be me. Not all at once. Not now, when he's still recovering from so much.
Kowa Brimaine || They are painfully, painfully alike. She wishes her cowardly throat could tell the woman how much. The shroud of reverence refuses to shed from her shoulders and so she gives in: takes Meria's hand as though expecting it to strike her and presses her forehead to the skin. "You have my support in any way you need it," is the soft reassurance. "For everything you do for me, and because you are my friend, and because you hold a galaxy inside you and yet manage to be as kind as you are."
Meria Boucher || There is silence, contemplation in the hazy gold of her gaze, but there is not an ounce of judgement, nor one shard of rejection as Kowa seeks the warmth from the touch. "I... thank you, Miss Brimaine. For not rejecting me, and also, for being you."
Kowa Brimaine: "Being 'me' is a strange thing, and kindness is the least I can give," she says ruefully, squeezing her hand before letting the woman go. Her ears have an embarrassed slant, gathering her professionalism about her. "For now, tell me what you've tried so that we do not retill unfertile soil."
Meria Boucher turns her gaze aside, a bit of... embarrassment slipping into her posture. "I, ah. I've... done a few exercises to try to help my joints, used a variety of painkillers for the physical symptoms, and, ah. Not much more. You are... the first person I've let look at my aether, and Isaudorel is the only one who has seen my body since the -- incident."
Meria Boucher is basically admitting to moons - if not cycles - of Not Going to the ????ing Doctor for Anything.
Kowa Brimaine manages not to sigh, but it's a very near thing. Figures, she thinks even as the hypocrisy is not lost on her. "There are...things I have tried of my own making that have provided occasional relief," she says cautiously. "Your joints may also benefit from some aetherial treatment, depending on the manner of fragility."
Meria Boucher nods. "How would you best determine that? A physical exam? I am also willing to do whatever I need to so that whatever examination methods you prefer to use put at little strain on you as possible."
Kowa Brimaine: "A physical exam, yes. I will not need to examine your aether directly, moreso the way it is interfacing with your body. It should prove simpler to determine how best to help."
Meria Boucher: Very well. That makes sense. Ah. I should say, I do not... really know the, well. Procedure for these things. I am sorry if I do not know things I should.
Kowa Brimaine smiles reassuringly. "There is no need to apologize, Miss Boucher. Would you like to begin this evening, or perhaps finish your quiche and sleep on it? I imagine taking your wards down was taxing for you."
Meria Boucher looks down at her quiche - she'd completely forgotten it. "What ever is most comfortable for you," she says, just before taking a bite. "It is you whose well-being I am concerned over. You... seemed very unwell before."
Kowa Brimaine 's breathing is still a tad uneven, making the fact impossible to deny. "Waku would strangle me if I continued like this," is the tired concession, half to herself. "If you can bear to wait, it would...perhaps be for the best."
Meria Boucher: I have waited this long, Miss Brimaine. Please, do not trouble yourself, and get some rest. Knowing that I am not -- that I am... not some dark creature that has forgotten what it was is an enormous weight lifted off my heart.
Kowa Brimaine: "What you are is a kind woman, and what you are going to do is take home a piece of quiche and get yourself some rest," she replies, standing to wrap another piece. "And...consider...perhaps telling your beloved, somewhere down the line."

Meria Boucher: I will. I do not want to keep secrets from him; it's not healthy, nor how I wish to treat him. He would, however, handle things better if I can present to him concrete ways to improve the situation. He's... that sort of man. I shall gratefully accept the quiche though - I can't imagine Isaudorel has eaten, because he's /also/ that sort of man, and I would enjoy sharing a piece with him. I enjoy your cooking.
Meria Boucher finishes the last of her tea, and then with a flick of her fingertips, floats both it and the empty plate over with her as she joins Kowa by the counter.
Kowa Brimaine quietly adds a second piece to the little parcel before wrapping it carefully and handing it over. "Sounds familiar," she murmurs before bowing. "It was lovely seeing you. Soon, yes?"
Meria Boucher takes it, giving Kowa a bow as well. She pauses in the middle of the gesture though, and looks up at her quickly before suddenly straightening. There's a... odd expression on her face, eyebrows drawn together. "...Miss Brimaine. Your partner. You've said she works cases. Is she... involved with law enforcement?"
Kowa Brimaine nods, ears lifting as her hand drifts absently to the flowers pinned on her coat. "She is a detective, yes. Formerly of the Blades, who decidedly did not deserve her."
Meria Boucher: ...Named Waku. Is - is her surname Motohama, by any chance?
Kowa Brimaine: "...yes," is the slow reply. "Why?"
Meria Boucher suddenly bows - stiff and straight - in a show of total respect. "Please," she says. "Convey to her my heartfelt thanks. I was told she had - quit, when I looked for her, but..." Slowly, she stands back up, and looks at Kowa seriously. "My fiancee was the victim of a very traumatic attack in Ul'dah during the period when we were seperated. Miss Motohama was responsible for overseeing his case. She was kind. She was professional. She believed him, and she made sure the men who scarred his -
Meria Boucher: - face were brought to justice. I wish her to know that... there are people who are grateful to her, and I will always be thankful she was able to provide him some manner of protection where I was not."
Kowa Brimaine 's lips part in muted shock, sadness crossing her expression before pride banishes it. "...I will, Miss Meria. She is the kindest person I have ever met, and she sorely undervalues how much others gravitate to her." A faint, besotted smile. "Putting her hands all over corpses and all. Ridiculous woman."
Meria Boucher: I am glad she has someone as dutiful and caring as you in her life. I can tell you love her deeply, and I hope you remind her to wash her hands after handling hazardous material.
Kowa Brimaine: "I don't - " Her gaze drops to the counter. "...am I so obvious?"
Meria Boucher: Whenever someone describes some manner of eccentric trait and then follows it by saying 'ridiculous', that usually means they are deeply in love. Isaudorel taught me that.
Kowa Brimaine takes a shaky breath. "...she deserves better than me," is the soft confession. "But for as long as she chooses me, I can do nothing but my best by her." An embarrassed shake of her head. "I will pass on your gratitude."
Meria Boucher: In this world, many things are concurrently true. Perhaps on the side that is facing towards her, you are exactly what she needs. ...But still, I thank you, and I likely shouldn't take up any more of your time. I appreciate you seeing me and giving me an examination, and I hope you rest well.
Kowa Brimaine inclines her head - whatever thoughts she has about that notion, she keeps them to herself. "Get some rest, yourself. I'll see you soon."
Meria Boucher nods, lifts up the packaged quiche in a show of appreciation, and turns to head towards the door.