(2016-06-08) Mistaken Identity, Or Was It
Mistaken Identity, Or Was It
Summary: Genevieve thinks she knows Piper, Quinton deflects, Piper stays silent
Date: 6.8.2016
Related: Related Logs (Say None if there aren't any; don't leave blank. You have to use full URLs, like http://mushname.wikidot.com/logtitle)


Outside the Club House is a large fenced in area, paved in faded red brick. At one time it had lovely landscaping, but now it is overgrown. Various tables and chairs dot the patio as well as a gazebo or two that are in the midst of being overtaken by ivy. A number of charcoal and gas grills have been brought in and set up for cooking.

Scavenging probably isn't something that is the highest priority anymore, but with open trading between the other survivor camps starting it doesn't hurt to have things that can be used for that. Piper has been out doing that this morning and is returning, pulling one of her wagons behind her as she makes her way onto the patio, her usual passenger, the seven month old Quinn attached to her front with a long bandeau of fabric, counterweight to the pack on her back. The only thing in the wagon is two large soup pots.

Melodic, trilling… though, sung beneath one's breath…

"Take me home to the meadow, that cradles my heart~"

This is a voice honed by singing to many a child at bedtime; not a professional but powerfully pleasant, with an Irish lilt. To turn one's attention to the trilling voice is to find a snippet of a woman, curled up onto one of the ramshackle patio chairs, her fingers working diligently at a scrap of fabric. Upon closer inspection, Ginny is repairing a well-loved shirt, and she sure loves to sing while doing so. Eyes hooded, lips moving ponderously. Nonetheless, she's not too busy to be oblivious to the new arrival, and the wagon's wheels cause the young woman's gaze to peer up from the shirt. Immediately she spies the young woman pulling her soup pot wares, and wearing her precious cargo.

Still a short ways off, but should Ginny's glance be returned she will lift her hand in greeting. If the new arrival comes even closer, she will set down her work to engage her. Little does Ginny know, she's in for quite the surprise…

Quinton's coming from the opposite side of town it seems, a cardboard box in hand. The thin man's backpack seems very full though. It must have been a good day. He offers up a soft smile as he approaches, but doesn't say anything just yet.
Singing and any music really, always gives the woman pause, mostly because she hates interrupting it when it is in progress. And unfinished song is a sad song. Piper listens a moment, her expression remaining a mask of stocism as she is greeted with a wave, which she returns tentatively to the mostly unfamiliar woman. Piper isn't the most social of creatures, so it is no surprise that no matter how long Genevieve has been around they really haven't spoke or ran into each other much.

Ginny truly loves these moments. To be alone, to ultimately be joined by others, even if by chance. Life in this world can be lonesome, with humans being pitted against one another with Others holding the strings. Fully expecting her time to be spent alone, doing something so (necessarily) mundane, Ginny is quick to note the arrival of yet another to the patio. Quinton arrives, cardboard box in hand, and judging by the backpack burgeoning behind his shoulders he must have had a decent day of… scavenging, perhaps? Ginny will smile kindly to him return should he glance her way, but there is something about the girl with the baby that… strikes a chord. They haven't encountered one another much, that is for sure… but in another life, that pre-Arrival life….

A memory: Ginny's mother cursing a blue streak: "Damnable, hateful machine! Scratched m' CD! Hateful, hateful thing——"

Beautiful music, while her parents worked; the picture of a girl matching the wagon-toter's appearance to a T.. but with straight hair. Instinctively Ginny's eyes dart to Piper's feet. The pale-haired woman drops her garment, eyes fastened to Piper. "What—-can't be. You /are/…!"

Quinton's eyes widen and the box is set on a table, "Hey…woah…" The poet quickly moves over, his backpack still on to stand next to Piper. one of his free hands arches out to takes the wagon hand from her, or maybe to hold her hand. Ginny gets a look. "She's ..Piper." He knows that's not her original name, but it's her name now.

Her dark-eyed gaze follows the greeting toward Quinton, and the stoic veil lifts slightly, but it's mostly seen in the eyes and the relaxing of stature than facial expression. It's short lived though as the other woman begins to stammer, and then it's all confusion for her. It's been so long and another life since she has been recognized so it takes a moment for it to sink in that is what is going on. Quinton suddenly at her side and giving a response though clenches it and she isn't sure what to do or say, though clearly fleeing is a viable option and a step backward is taken.

There is no harm in Ginny; kind eyes, open expression, fair features like some sort of wiley fae. Her expression is unabashedly astounded, but very quickly she catches herself and reddens. A lot. From collarbone to the roots of her ash blonde hair. Sure she looks kind, but to one such as Piper who isn't one to seek others out, this small woman's gawping at her can't be comfortable. Very swiftly, Genevieve sees fit to right her wrong. Especially as the young man comes to 'Piper's' side, speaking a name that… ok, Ginny gets it..

She remembers this 'Piper' by another name, and the woman has the sense to not speak it. She stands slowly, lowers her head slightly in apology before looking up, thick braid over a shoulder. "Really sorry," She offers gently. To Piper, tentatively: "Maybe I'm mistaken… but… you played music. In that other life. My mother, she…" A pause, as Piper takes a step back. Ginny lowers herself back onto her seat.. see? No threat.

"She was a fan. It was beautiful work." Ginny trails off, clutching the necklace that hangs from her neck rather tightly. What if she was /truly/ mistaken? She's not above fleeing, either, if so!

Quinton frowns slightly, although part of him wants to use this as an example when next they come across one of his books. Ah well. He lets his hand brush against Piper's briefly, hopefully to calm her down so she doesn't bolt. Stepping forward, slightly in front of Piper, but not all the way, he motions to himself, "Quinton…you?" He doesn't remember meeting her, but then again, he's had some really rough days in the past few weeks. Maybe they did?

Well Genevieve's body language is crystal clear. She seems as embarrassed as Piper is panciky. That is enough, along with the explanation and the calming presence of Quinton to get the petite woman on the right track to calm town. One of her fingers hooks his but she doesn't leave the protective shadow of the man. Personality wise she is definitely not the same person she used to be. Her mouth opens to say something but no words escape as of yet, so she is unable to either confirm or deny what Genevieve was claiming of her. If this is the kind of thing he is trying to prevent maybe Piper will be the one lighting the match next time.

Careful in her responses from hereon, Ginny addresses Quinton next. She recognizes the two as close so feels that she must reassure the gentleman as well. Her hand moves to her previously abandoned seam work, working to find the stitches that she initially started. Her gaze continues to flit between the couple. "My name is Genevieve," She offers, smiling gently. "Call me Ginny. Nice to meet you, Quinton.. and Piper. Sorry if I came on a bit strong. I was surprised but maybe a bit rude, too. When a memory comes to me strongly, I can't help myself." She admits.

There is an accent to her words: a sort of Irish lilt, but not… /exactly/. "We haven't met. I've only been here a couple of months."

A reader of body language, Ginny can tell that Piper is unsettled. Leaning back in her seat with the mending in her lap, she looks up at the two. "If I am correct in recollecting you, miss… your music brought a lot of joy to my family. I remember many an early hour listening to beautiful flute music, with flour in the air. I.. thank you, really. I'm really sorry if I'm mistaken." She offers, threading a sewing needle that she guards like the holy grail. She looks down quickly, eyes suddenly itchy. "I hope I'm not intruding?"

Quinton's hand tightens protectively around Piper’s, but he keeps his gaze on Ginny. "It's…okay. Things get…off sometimes." There's also something not right about hs speech pattern. Like there's a hitch or delay, maybe. He offers a smile though, trying to calm everyone down. "No…patio is….everyone's."

The introduction from the woman followed by the apology has Piper giving a nod to Genevieve. She kind of understands the memories thing, she is just glad that they are pleasant ones in Ginny's case. There wasa time that all the compliments of her music would have her on an ego, but now, when those things tend to be less important than survival skills it isn't the flattery it used to be. Her gaze drops slightly, still not confirming if Ginny is correct or not, even though the physical evidence is undeniable.

If the kindly Newfie notices a certain aspect to Quinton's speech, she doesn't let on. She simply takes in what he says to her, and responds respectfully. Seeing his hand enclose Piper's invites a pang in her gut; not out of jealousy or something as foolish, but remembrance. Not too long ago…

Suddenly she hopes for nothing more than this couple to thrive… they are a couple, as far as Ginny can tell. This world is so troubled. Eyes as gentle as a doe's, her smile is a reassurance that all is well. It is now that she finally notices the third party here; the most innocent of all.

"Your little one… what’s their name?" She asks Piper, dropping the remembrance for now… moving onto something that really warms Ginny's heart. Kids. Maybe this will be safer.

Her fingers continue to move to salvage the shirt in her hands, almost lovingly.

Quinton's jaw works, glancing at Piper, but she seems to be mute today so he answers for her, "He's…Quinn." The baby is definitely not even close to being the right skin tone to be biologically related to Quinton. He smiles though looking down at the babe. look back to the shirt, "Sew clothes?"

Piper looks down at the infant hanging from her front. A hand smoothes over his wild, curly locks, no guessing who he inherited that from, that's definitely from his mother. The infant knows his name when he hears it, legs and arms wave and he makes grabby hand motions as he babbles. Another nod, she may have been able to answer that one, but it wouldn't have come out half as easy for her as it did the poet. The question asked by Quinton has her glancing at the work Ginny is going. As the conversation turns away from her she starts to become more curious and less stoic, though the wariness doesn't go away.

"Precious," Ginny says sweetly, pulling the needle back and checking the thread. "This here, the shirt. Belongs to a little devil.. cute as he is mischievous. Jack." She explains, smiling down at the garment. "Puts this thing through all holy hells with what he gets into, but damned if you try to take it away from him. A favorite, this is," She holds up the shirt. Her mend job — repairing a gash in the shirt from a snag on a branch — is successful. "Good for another few miles… for what it's worth in a busy little boy's life." She laughs then, a silvery sound. Quinton answers her question then, and the woman's hazel eyes lift to regard the two. One unasked question answered: the boy is not their issue. But when does that matter.. ties needn't be biological to be strong.

"Quinn. A lovely name. May.. may I say hello? I do love babies.." Ginny asks gently, lips pulling into another smile. "No shortage of experience with 'em… brothers and sisters, and such."

She waits patiently, turning next to Quinton. "Aye," She addresses his query. "Nothing fancy, but I can repair some pretty dicey stuff. If you need anything fixed… I'd be glad to help you. Well, to the best of my ability and with whatever I have…"

Quinton nods again, a seamstress staying here will do them good. "I have….some." He's a pack rat, he's got boxes and boxes of clothes that need to get fixed. The fact she's talking about Jack has him glancing over to Piper again, it's her flock. "He's….always…" There's a pause as Quin searches and can't seem to find the right word to describe Jack. He frowns, mostly at himself for the lack of words and then shakes his head.

Piper nods her permission, the woman seems harmless enough, and despite appearances she is armed. Her own brow furrows at the mention of Jack, but she figures Mamaw Bea, who is pretty much considered grandma by all the kids now, probably had something to do with it, so a shrug is given at Quinton's look. Tugging at the snuggie she frees Quinn from the fabric and offers him over to Ginny to hold a moment as she slips off her pack and goes to put things the scavenged away. She trusts that Quinton will keep Ginny from running off with the baby.


1 Book-Fiction-Spanish
1 Shoeboxes Fridge Magnets
1 Travel Size Hand Sanitizer
1 Small container Baking Soda
2 Large Soup Pots
1 Candles
2 Pack of Cigarettes
1 Book - Manual of Surgery, Volume III
1 Model Rocket Kit
4 Newspapers
1 Box of Twinkies
1 Assorted Autobiographies

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License