Participants:
| Scene Title | Anything Else? |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Sleeplessness runs in the !family. |
| Date | June 25, 2018 |
The Bunker - Rooftop
The top of the Bunker is a classic industrial roof, a starkly flat expanse with a low rim around its perimeter, vents and comm antennas clustered at points. It is distinctly unconventional, however, in the verdant rooftop garden to which most of the rooftop has been given over. Wooden lattices support tomatoes along both the southern and northern edges, while trellises bedecked with creeping ivy provide shade at appropriate places around the roof. Repurposed metal troughs, painted a matte smoke-gray, serve as raised beds for the growing of a variety of herbs, vegetables, and occasional ornamental flowers.
The centerpiece of the roof, however, is a patio space laid out in zigzags of red and gray brick, partially shaded by ivy during the afternoon. Refurbished wooden tables and a mismatched assortment of chairs dot the space, their placement varying almost daily according to the whims of Wolfhound's members. The grill off to one side sees frequent use, so long as the weather permits, and even occasionally when the weather is not ideal.
Rochester is so much more quiet than the Benchmark, at least when it comes to the minds residing there. Lynette is a gracious host, of course, but troubled heads and stressful things can add up. Huruma makes a lot of trips anyways, so her disappearance from the city downstate is not terribly odd. A little like two parents with dual custody.
It works for her. It keeps that wandering nature satisfied, and gives her spaces of her own.
But sometimes, things follow her back. It’s a rare instance of such, of late. Huruma has seemed run-down and more tense than usual, small hints of circles around her eyes and a feeling of unease bleeding out into her aura.
Yet this is the first time she has ever been disturbed from sleep in the Wolfhound Bunker.
It starts with a lick of her senses pawing out while she sleeps, whatever she sees in that dreamscape lashing out primitively, lazily. Wisps of fear and anguish list around her room and the space outside of it indiscriminately, some of them stretching out like a thousand threads. They seek out bodies to absorb them, possibly causing some strange or alarming dreams for those that have rooms near hers. When Huruma wakes, her sheet and pillow are damp, the shine of sweat on her skin a cold reminder of what has roused her.
She bumps groggily out of her room, leaning against her doorframe before seeking some much needed, cool night air. The roof is easiest, and she heads there to clear herself, still wearing what passes as pyjamas for her; just cotton, fitted shorts and a loose tank top. Bare feet allows her a quiet trek outside, and that field of hers has coiled back in on her.
The roof has two occupants tonight, the other Lucille. Dressed in black sweats and a hoodie she seems to be meditating, it's quieter at night even at the Bunker. Less chance you would think of running into anyone but many of the Hounds have trouble sleeping and tranquility and peace can be felt radiating from the younger woman.
She's not aware of Huruma’s presence, the student failing an unsaid pop quiz. Huruma was always more quiet than she was, Luce had to stay on her P’s and Q’s around Auntie Hooms and she's not paying attention at all. Lost within herself.
Breath comes and goes evenly, seated cross legged with open palms resting on her knees faced upwards. Her auburn hair that's grown longer and longer, shifts in the breeze. It would seem she's growing it out.
Any worry about being spotted stumbling upstairs in a half-sleep state goes out the window when she finds the roof occupied at the late hour. Huruma hesitates in the door when she spies Lucille sitting out there, but the night chill tugs her from the shelter of the exit soon enough. It feels soothing compared to the sticky warmth of waking up from a summer nightmare. A look is cast towards the garden, wary and weary, before Huruma starts her way for one of the chairs nearer to where the young woman meditates, shaded partly by a trellis.
She won’t be joining. Instead, Huruma folds one leg under herself as she coils down into the oversized seat, hands resting on the arms, fingers flexing.
Huruma does not announce herself even then, preferring a stony-faced silence and a stare; her eyes linger on the back of Luce’s head, watching the flick and lift of stray locks of hair.
Content to stay in that moment, blissful silence accompanied only by her breath and she likes that. The minutes had turned into hours and she was coming to a close in the meditation as Huruma had made her way to her perch. Still a few minutes tick by before she's doing the last movement in her routine, coaxing the flower within her to spread its feelers out around her. Always pressing against her limits.
Always wanting to push beyond.
A sweep on the roof all around her makes Lucille’s eyes snap open but before she's turning her head to regard Huruma’s seated self with golden glowing eyes, she knows. Huruma feels distinct unlike many people to Lucille. Heartbeat measured and steady. In control. Something Lucille strived to be but seeing Huruma, “Couldn't sleep?”
Normally surprising Lucille would come with a sound of lips sucking on teeth in disapproval, or a tease, or at least a furrow of brow. This time it feels and looks different. She stares ahead when Lucille turns her head with that widened look, eyes like twin moons in the half-dark, placed like jewels on a throne. It is not a very nice throne.
The controlled aspects Lucille knows well are still coming down from something, spikes of fearful adrenaline still dissipating from her and the sweat on the border of cropped hair still drying out. Huruma remains quiet for a long moment after the girl questions her, debating.
“No.”
She offers no immediate explanation.
Eyes fading to their natural pale blue the younger woman restrains herself from immediately rushing over, she's her Aunt but sometimes she needs her space. Lucille gauging her mentor with a tilted head before inching forward a few feet to sit more directly in front of her, taking up her view except that Huruma still seated towered over a seated Lucille but she wants to give her something to focus on.
It's not often she sees the taller woman distressed and it gives her an anxious feeling that she knows can't be helping with whatever Huruma is feeling. Or holding back.
“What happened?”
As Lucille inches around to face her, Huruma just surveys her in silence. As much as Luce can see that she is under duress, Huruma can see that it’s making the younger woman harbor that much more anxiety. It is a give and take with empaths, and with someone like Lucille it is somewhat mutual. Not exactly the same, but approximate.
Huruma shifts on the seat, leaning more onto one hip as she props an elbow between the chair arm and her chin. Her fingers tap light over her jawline as she rests her head there. A moment later, she is using the same to scrub nails over short black hair.
“I cannot be sure, but…” When she looks at Lucille there is a small flinch, eyes blinking as if she had seen something that didn’t belong. A small startle, quickly recovered. Her words come more slowly, watching Lucille closely. “A few weeks ago I helped a young man feel out some control over his gift…”
“Some sort of hostile telepathy, centered on memory recollection, makes you see things… I think, possibly, that it’s still affecting me.” She looks away again, eyes tired. That isn’t everything that’s been stressing her out, but…
Eyes widen a fraction more and she's nodding her head, Huruma’s ability in Lucille’s mind was great for taming wayward abilities and souls alike. The notion of her helping a young man with his gift was less weird than saying she's experiencing some residual effects. The woman’s eyes darken with worry creasing her forehead.
“What have you seen?” Tentatively asked, she doesn't want to push but delusions with a woman such as Huruma could lead to very scary situations for the rest of the Hounds and Huruma both. “..has it been.. bad?” Constant, debilitating is other words, Auntie Hooms doesn't look so hot.
A feeling of powerlessness attacks Lucille’s psyche and she grimaces at the thought, she doesn't like not being able to do anything to help her family. No matter how small or big the problem is. “Maybe I can help you sleep.” Huruma knows Lucille wouldn't mind.
“Bad memories. Filled with fear. When I was with him I could influence which ones… but asleep? No.” Huruma sighs, the sound faint as she looks to Lucille. At the quest for content, she drags one hand blearily down her face. “Yes, it has. I try not to let it get out while I'm not awake, but, there are things I still see. Out of the corner of my eyes, flickers of things in front of me…”
“I thought I would have some more peace further from where I had met him.” Suffice to say it hasn't worked. “He seems a good boy, just— unlucky.”
“No, no helping.” Huruma lifts a hand, placating. No offense. “It may only make things worse.” She unfolds her legs and stretches them out some, eyes moving upwards to moon and stars visible without as much light pollution. “Pile this boy on everything else and it has been a trying few weeks.”
Leaning back to support herself with both hands the long legged woman lays her legs out as well and stretches to the right while studying Huruma, a frown at bad memories filled with fear and flickering things. “I hope you don’t plan to see him again for a while,” until he had learned to control his gift, hostile telepathy made her nervous but she breathes through that catching the feeling by the scruff and gently shoving in that space she puts all the things she needs to be away. Anger and the love of violence. Luce’s mind stills and she opens her eyes again this time to stare up into the sky.
The denial of help makes her want to insist but Huruma is perhaps right about the nature of these side effects from coming into contact with this guy.
A quirk of an eyebrow and Lucille is leaning forward to stretch in the middle, “It has been. Anything else?” A hint of a smile, the young one is nosing as she does with Huruma. She’ll sniff along as long as her aunt doesn’t bat her nose.
“He has someone not affected by him, she is helping him to reintegrate. He was… trapped for years, I think in the Exclusion Zone. In any case… he has only just begun. If he needs me again I will not turn them down. He is not the first lost one I have helped.” Huruma, to a degree, is willing to be fitful for a little while if it means that Jibram learns to hold it all back. But he’s not like Salem, either—
Huruma rubs at the inside of her eyes with her fingers, brow pinching. She can feel Lucille’s attentiveness, almost wishing she’d try to insist. But there are things that she does not want to dream about so soon, again. This, and she is mulling over the prodding coming from Lucille. She’s not sure if she wants to field that or not.
“Of course there’s something else. There always is.” Casual deflecting, not very determined. “Lynette’s having problems remaining on her wagon enough that I had a visit from the Secretary of Homeland Security—” She laughs, at the second half. “There are dangerous doppelgangers on the loose, people getting assassinated, timelines playing at being Indra’s Net, and —” Huruma’s continuation comes with a measure of irritation until suddenly it doesn’t, and her breath huffs as she peters out weakly.
Being trapped in the Exclusion Zone gets a jerk from the woman opposite of Huruma, it sounds horrible and she calms a shudder that snakes its way up her spine. Happy to hear that the man with the challenging ability has someone else attending to him. Lucille bends her arms until she is laying back on her elbows watching Huruma’s movements, watching out for her. If she has an episode, it's an unspoken thing. She has her back.
Problems with staying sober get a pause from the auburn haired woman and she nods minutely because that's a hard journey, the one of an addict. One that Lu is happy to have not had the chance to tango with, if anything she was addicted to physical activity. And books. Homeland Security, Pro SLC-E or not the operative didn't trust the government. Even if her brother was in that machine, she supposed she was too.. Wolfhound taking their contracts and such. A necessary evil and she didn't have a alternative.
At least they weren't trying to lock them in cages and experiment on them.
Dangerous doubles, timelines. All news to Lucille and there's a quizzical look on her face. “Um, so we’ve firmly entered the Twilight Zone…” a blank look given out to Rochester out before them. “Enlighten me.”
At least when it came to the visit from Vincent, it wasn’t on-duty. The rest of it was a little more planned. Huruma’s eyes close for a few moments, and she is leaning on her hand again.
“I am not sure I should be the one to explain it, because even I do not know all of the details. Wolfhound’s trip to the Dead Zone had something to do with it. There are people we thought were dead who have miraculously reappeared, but some seem to believe they are from another place entirely. I found Emile Danko, briefly.” Huruma leans back, arms now crossing over her lap. “Eve Mas is seeing demons or god or something trying to break through the 5th Dimension. Adam Monroe is slinking around, and goodness knows I dread the day he calls me up again. Richard is having issues with people dying or getting chased off by authorities, and has also informed me that there may be a chance Elizabeth Harrison and Magnes Varlane aren’t actually gone.” It’s a lot to wrap the head around, and Huruma is realizing that she has more than she bargained for. Somehow. She puts her forehead into that hand she was leaning on.
“Twilight Zone sounds very accurate. I also accidentally emotionally unraveled a young man recently, and that was just bloody lovely.” Huruma’s tone says that it wasn’t really. “His mind was shuttered tight and I yanked the lid off. It took only a minute before he started to lose his mind- so after the fact I realized why it was closed. A Pandora’s Box. I shut it again but I think that I may have opened him to being human.”
Oops?
“Being a good person is hard, when being a bad person is so easy.” When she says this, Huruma lets out a small groan and slides into a sprawl over the chair, one leg hooking on the arm and her back against the other. Anxiety covers her like a blanket, even if she does not say so.
“I blame all of you. You with that wishful thinking, the Ferry with the selflessness, your Father- -” She cuts off, brow knitting and eyes downcast. It’s harder and harder to think about the waiting, and harder still to even tell someone else what’s going on. Megan had to know. Lucille is her friend, but at the same time she is Ben’s daughter, too. A whole other can of worms.
Blink blink.
“Ah fuck yea..” the Wolfhound trip to the Dead Zone.. the name took on a new meaning when Huruma mentions Danko’s name her eyes flash and knuckles tighten just a tad. That is a complicated relationship with a man that Lucille has never met, she knows he and Huruma have worked together sometimes.
Magnes and Liz.. “What the fuck how?” She assume Huruma doesn't have the answer or she might have really led with that. Alive? After all these years? Where the fuck have they been? “That kid is the luckiest in the world or the most unlucky whichever way you wanna look at it.”
Adam Monroe, there's that name again. “Well I've heard that name before. But I still don't know who he is.” She's curious though. Close with Huruma and of dark ties. That was just a part of Huruma’s life. Something Lucille had readily accepted. Someone who had her father’s back like her? She was trusted. She was family, who the fuck cares who are friends were or her old ones. “It's not like I didn't run around with criminals on Staten Island.” For a time at least and criminal was the proper term not a dig! Love you Lexi. But Huruma was one of them. Something that Huruma expresses with her blame of their collective good nature having influence on her. But she..
“Unraveled?” Placing her hand over her mouth she suppresses a giggle, “Auntie Hooms why?!” Luce can't contain herself. “You and Dad are just the same! You can't help but fall into the craziest situations! You're fucking made for each other.” Stopping short she looks sheepish, that was a awkward subject for everyone involved. Her own eyes downcast now as she nervously plays with a lock of her hair. Hm. Too far. “Trying to lighten the mood.” A quick apology.
“I don’t know why- - I was bored- -” Huruma shrugs defensively, eyes narrowing some and moving away again when Lucille gets a little too close for emotional comfort. The rest of it is here and there— she can tell Lucille about the mysterious tape or Adam any old time, but it seems to be the last that has her at odds.
The chair is suddenly uncomfortable. She doesn’t accept or deny the apology.
“…I wish he felt as strongly about that as you seem to.” The dark woman murmurs, hands still on her lap. She fusses at the hem of her tank-top, brow furrowed and pale eyes on her fingers. “He is having difficulty speaking to me of late.”
“Fine fine that is more than acceptable,” Lucille got bored and got into trouble too she couldn't judge, the picture she had in her mind was funny. They really were alike whether her father was rocketing into space or gardening. Noting the change of posture she slides back to give Huruma space but lays out to prop her head up with one hand.
“Well,”
The thought of Huruma and her father being together had crossed hers and Delia’s minds on numerous occasions. She found it silly that the two were standing right in front of each other and still looked over the other’s shoulder. “He's bad with the feels,” is offered softly but Lucille doesn't have to remind Huruma of that, “Why don't you guys just wake up and smell the vibes in the air!”
“You're always happier when you're together.” Doesn't that speak for itself? “Go knock on his door. Like heyo.”
Of course Huruma knows that he’s ‘bad with the feels’, in Lucille’s words. Her ability is always what has given her an edge. He can’t hide from her, even if he tries.
Huruma’s eyes tip towards Lucille in her lounging. The next part is what gets more of a reaction; one of Huruma’s hands lifts from where it sits on her lap, fingers rubbing at her eyes, brow deeper than before. You’re always happier when you’re together. Talk about not being able to hide. Lucille is the kind of woman who sees right through everything.
“It’s not- -” Huruma looks back up with a nervous hitch to her breath, eyes averting again sooner than later. “I can’t do that right now. Because we already woke up and smelled the vibes. Sort of. Not like you’d assume.” It’s weird trying to tell Lucille about this, she realizes. The spectre of her mother is still there too, and even though Huruma has zero intention to push it away- it intimidates her. “He needed time to think, so I’ve been… giving it to him. I want to let him decide when to come and talk. Although, I had a bloody panic attack and I went to Megan thinking that I was having some sort of coronary episode.” So Megan already knows all of this, which might help. A tiny bit.
That experience was a brand new one for Huruma, and her impression of it says as much.
Eyes widen even more at the fact that they've already woken up and smelled the vibes in the air. A small smile though because for all it's awkward it does please her. They just fit in her mind. Lucille runs a finger along the rooftop and nods her head. “So you're patient.” Luce gathered that much within the first few times she met Huruma, “But you've gotta know dad can sit and stew for so long. Sometimes he needs a little push.”
Wink wink, nudge nudge.
But she waves her hand because it's really not her place, she's said too much and her position is bias. “I'm not sure, I think you two will figure it out.” Or they wouldn't. Just like tons of other would be soulmates barely missing each other in the wild.
“He does need pushes. That was why I drug him out with me that night. It got a little- - ah-” Huruma covers her face with her fingers again, rubbing at her brow. “Not that I was planning something. I just wanted him to get out of the house.” She was very persistent. The fingers at her head seem to be trying to hide her more and more. Is that a fluster? Why, yes it is.
“I want to figure it out. There’s just…” Huruma angles her head back so that she doesn’t have to look at those baby blues again. “Baggage. I know he needs some time. That is not stopping me from getting a little tired of being patient.” Is she really having this conversation? Her mind asks this of the trellis half-overhead and the moon peeking behind clouds, and despite not getting an answer there she is silent for a short time.
“I cannot believe I am having this conversation.” A beat. “Especially with you.” That embarrassment comes flapping right back, dark skin hiding the emotional flush; her eyes cannot, on the other hand, and that look is instantly readable. The lift of heart rate doesn’t help.
It got a little.. that night… oh oh oh no. Shaking her head violently, “Ah ah it's okay. You know what.” Lucille rubs the back of her neck and gives Huruma a look, “I think you wait as long as your heart allows and when it's time to move on. You better.”
“Don't let my dad leave you on a hook for the rest of you guys’ lives!” Now Luce is mad at her dad, why won't he just.. hell nobody could replace Mom! But he had found other women, none of them fit as perfectly as Aunt Hooms! (No offense Nic and Meg). There's a look on her face that says she's planning.
A frown to her mentor as she shrugs, “We can talk about everything.”
.. “Almost everything.”
The shaking of her head and odd look that follows simply earns Lucille a squint, Huruma giving her an equally odd look. It seems to ease up when a bubble of irritation comes through with Lu’s words. It would probably be funnier if she wasn’t feeling so conflicted, but she does give a more considering face in response.
“My, you are more about this than I’d thought.” Huruma tries her best not to laugh, a smile creeping into the curl of her lips. There could be worse ways for the girl to react. Her shrug gets a tilt of the head, and Huruma sits up straighter again, legs off of the chair. “Almost everything. Yes. Well…” She isn’t sure how to follow that. “I am glad that we can.”
“I’ve never actually done this particular sort of thing before. The, ah,” She freezes as she looks past Lucille, rifling through her head for a word and not finding one that quite fits. “…I don’t know. Attempting something more than whatever is fun.”
“If this is too weird for you, tell me.” White eyes flick back to Lucille with a small laugh, pointedly ignoring any working cogs in that head of hers. “But I do not have many to talk with about these kinds of things…”
“I just want two of the most important people in my life to be happy.” It's a simple request in her mind but the situation is anything but. Still she has hopes, hopes she's had since she met Huruma maybe. Betraying her mother isn't a thought she hangs on anymore. It had been so long, dad had found happiness multiple times since. Maybe Huruma was the happiness that would stick.
Fun.
Luce wrinkles her nose, “Well I'm all for staying active.” One way to put it. “That I'm sure you two will sort out.” Moving onto the matter of people to talk too. “I'm here for you always Auntie Hooms duh. Just leave out the naked bits.” Those bits she didn't have no business seeing or knowing.
“I use to think when I got older this got easier,” thinking on her own complicated almost non existent love life. A brief thought on Tahir, he was busy. She was busy. It was an excuse. She likes those when it came to relationships.
“Not like- -” Huruma’s tongue clicks against her teeth, and she rests fingertips on her forehead again. A chuckle bubbles up, drawn out. “I only mean to say, I’ve never done the ‘serious relationship’ part.” She’s done the ‘staying active’ before, don’t worry.
But hey, she’s already got the loyalty down, right? How hard could it be? Of course, she’s getting way ahead of herself.
Lucille’s addendum to listening has the chuckle turning into a more sheepish kind of laugh, but an honest one nonetheless. Looks like she’s at least gotten Huruma from waking up in nightmares to somewhere better. “I suppose not, hm? Or just variant levels of difficulty for both of us.” What’s easy for Lucille might not be as easy for Huruma, and vice versa. “Thank you, for bearing with me.”
A snicker and she's hiding her mouth with her hand. Lucille composes herself a few moments later and steadies her breath. The awkward situation that is Huruma and her father is what it is. But she'd like it to be more. For both their sakes. “Well you've tolerated me for this long. The least I can do is lend an ear.”
“And some sass.” Lucille was taught by the best. Leaning over to grip Huruma’s knee with a grin. “If I didn't have you back then I..” choking back and waving a hand in front of her face, “Ah!”
She allows a single tear to fall while lifting her hand going to wipe at her other eye. “Well fuck.” She had been through much in the days before and during the war. Huruma was there for a lot of it. Colette for others. “Thanks for being there. Always.”
There is another click of tongue against teeth, but this time it is a ‘tch’ that comes before Huruma’s hand over Lucille’s. What she will not say is that Lucille’s been a part of the memories dredged up by Jibram’s ability. Pollepel was more than just a castle, and that was one night were it seemed she might lose more than just a roof over her head.
“Ah, thamani, do not be like that.” Huruma doesn’t reach out, but she does give Lucille’s hand a stroke of thumb. Something Megan said comes back to her now. “We are an Us. I am always here.”
Trying to compose herself she lifts her glittering gaze to Huruma’s and smiles full teeth as more tears fall. She can't help it and Lucille’s heart is a waterfall of emotion threatening to pull her under. But she doesn't, because Huruma is there. Because she's grounded by someone other than herself in this moment. Their hands clasped together she beams at the taller woman.
“We are an Us.” She agrees and don't you try to say otherwise.