It is, there's a version in the Horizon, once you're able to access it. As to your second question, I'm sure there are those with the magic to create anything who wouldn't mind abusing their power for things. But no, here, in this land, it doesn't exist.
[ Claire listens then, very much frowning when the woman says she did this to herself. She's taking off her scarf; even with her hair pulled back, in the dimmer lighting inside, it still shines gently. It makes her appear softer, her edges smoothed out, until she's angry. For now, she simply looks like a concerned mother. She's leaning against her countertop looking at the woman, arms crossed over her chest, and she doesn't say anything for a moment, thinking.
She finally straightens, taking the canisters back to their rightful location. ]
You're right, you don't know me. And I know nothing of you, and that is one of the wonderful things about this place. No one. Knows you. [ Claire emphasizes that point, looking at her directly. She doesn't even know her name yet. She's obviously guarded, has been through some sort of trauma, perhaps multiple traumas, and has sealed herself off. Claire understands. She's locked herself up so tight before, that no one could get through. But she also had to open up, eventually. ]
No one knows your life, your past, your sins or your virtues. I know nothing of you, I only know it goes against my own ethics to let someone suffer when there's no need.
[ She takes a deep breath and uncrosses her arms, her own version of a but coming up, gesturing toward the front of the house as she exhales. ]
That being said, the door is just there. I can't keep you here, or force you to allow me to help. If you'd like to go, you're free to, and you can always return if you change your mind later. But I won't argue or attempt to manipulate you into it.
[ She turns her back and continues to prepare tea as if Daisy will choose to stay. ]
You're welcome to a cup of the tea anyway; it won't help tremendously, but it should soothe some of the pain in your face, reduce the inflammation a bit. You can even take it to go, bring back the cup later.
[ Claire keeps her back to the table as she works, letting her make her decision without being scrutinized. ]
no subject
[ Claire listens then, very much frowning when the woman says she did this to herself. She's taking off her scarf; even with her hair pulled back, in the dimmer lighting inside, it still shines gently. It makes her appear softer, her edges smoothed out, until she's angry. For now, she simply looks like a concerned mother. She's leaning against her countertop looking at the woman, arms crossed over her chest, and she doesn't say anything for a moment, thinking.
She finally straightens, taking the canisters back to their rightful location. ]
You're right, you don't know me. And I know nothing of you, and that is one of the wonderful things about this place. No one. Knows you. [ Claire emphasizes that point, looking at her directly. She doesn't even know her name yet. She's obviously guarded, has been through some sort of trauma, perhaps multiple traumas, and has sealed herself off. Claire understands. She's locked herself up so tight before, that no one could get through. But she also had to open up, eventually. ]
No one knows your life, your past, your sins or your virtues. I know nothing of you, I only know it goes against my own ethics to let someone suffer when there's no need.
[ She takes a deep breath and uncrosses her arms, her own version of a but coming up, gesturing toward the front of the house as she exhales. ]
That being said, the door is just there. I can't keep you here, or force you to allow me to help. If you'd like to go, you're free to, and you can always return if you change your mind later. But I won't argue or attempt to manipulate you into it.
[ She turns her back and continues to prepare tea as if Daisy will choose to stay. ]
You're welcome to a cup of the tea anyway; it won't help tremendously, but it should soothe some of the pain in your face, reduce the inflammation a bit. You can even take it to go, bring back the cup later.
[ Claire keeps her back to the table as she works, letting her make her decision without being scrutinized. ]