Participants:
| Scene Title | Boombastic Reunion |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Eve returns home to family. |
| Date | March 16, 2020 |
"Closing time!!"
Poppy's voice rings out over the speaker system of Cat's Cradle. The crowd was thick and the music has been blaring since the evening began, it had been like this since Eve's "death." Multiple photos of the venue owner were pinned and hanging around the establishment. A never ending rotation of joints were passed, everyone shared here it's what Eve would have wanted. Sassy had just left for the evening when Poppy was left to close up shop.
That meant mostly everyone was leaving.
As the bouncers did their duty at shepherding the patrons out one of which had to be woken from his napping spot at the bar, the young woman picks up four different bottles of liquor and carries them over to a large round table in the corner of the bar. Everyone knew that was reserved for people for really knew the infamous woman. Made more infamous by acts of an inter dimensional Entity puppeteering her body. Placing the bottles on the wooden surface she gives the assembled group of people a sad look, "You guys of course get your private time, as long as you like."
They knew the drill and Poppy swings her hips back towards cleaning up the bar.
It wasn’t often that Gillian would go to a bar at all before the whole situation. She had avoided it a lot of the time, but sometimes it was a necessary thing. Sometimes she needed a break from the book editing and the hospital visits and the interviews with SESA and everything else that came with what happened in the last few months. And she couldn’t help but want to make sure Eve’s place stayed open despite what had happened. It still reminded her of Eve. It still smelled like Eve, somehow.
That was probably whatever Poppy was smoking downstairs, though.
She toys with the stirring stick on her fruity little drink, banging the mostly melted ice around a little. She still hadn’t ordered a second one. It had been strong when it arrived, but now it was pretty weak from the melted ice. But she only had wanted one. She had avoided ordering even a second.
“Thanks, Poppy,” she says as the woman says they can take their time, before she leans back and looks around the table again. Some she had known before the war, some she had known after, and some she had only met recently— some she had only met today. It was a long day. But she also didn’t want to go home, either.
Or back to the hospital. She needed a break from everything.
Monica sits in her place at the table as well, eyes on her drink, although her spot— under one of the pictures of Eve— was not picked by accident. Her ice isn't melted like Gillian's, because she just recently got a new one herself, one of many, but not enough to give her the kind of buzz she craves. She meant this to be a break from work matters, and it is, but more so it's a moment to grieve. Like all her trips to Cat's have been.
She should just go to a different bar, she tells herself every time.
Never does, though.
"Yeah, Poppy. Thanks. Just keep the drinks coming, okay?" Had to do her part to keep the place going, right? The least she could do. She wasn't even there when everything happened like she should have been. Maybe things would have been different if she hadn't been distracted.
Chess had said no at first. She didn’t want to be in this place that reminded her of Eve. She didn’t need to be anywhere that reminded her of Eve because she sees her every night in her dreams, both as herself and as the thing that had possessed her, exploited her for her body and powers. No matter how many people tell her what happened to Eve wasn’t her fault, the guilt’s wrapped around her like a too-tight jacket.
But her grief and guilt are selfish things, and she’s come for her friends’ sake — God knows she doesn’t need one more thing to feel guilty about.
Her presence alone doesn’t make her very good company. In fact, she’s bad company. Quiet. Sullen. Resentful of the other patrons who laugh too easily because they never really knew Eve and don’t feel her loss like those at this table. Angrier at those who claim a stake that they don’t have, as people sometimes do in times of mourning.
She reaches for the whiskey bottle to give herself a refill — her glass has no ice.
The door's thankfully not locked yet, allowing Asi to slip in late. She has a motorcycle helmet gripped in one hand while she unzips her leather jacket, revealing a sweater underneath a deep shade of red. "Hey," she says quietly to the group at the table as she comes closer, the greeting intended for those she knows well. Gillian not exactly fitting among that group means she gets a second nod singled out just for her before she goes on to explain, "It took longer than I thought for things to wrap up tonight. Sorry I'm late."
She invites herself to a glass on her way over, flipping it around in her free hand. The helmet is set down on her chair in favor of standing next to the table, hand out for the whiskey Chess is pouring. She's got ground to catch up on, and she'll get started on that immediately. "How are you holding up tonight?" she asks, the question generally directed at the table rather than one person or the other.
Miles arrives eventually, slightly behind Asi, enough that they probably didn’t meet on the way or outside. He does nod hello to her, though, as well as the rest of those present when he gets inside. A lifted hand in the direction of Chess, and then Monica, and then his eyes move to Gillian — he nods to her, too, politely, before there’s a slight hesitation.
He teeters between moving toward Chess’ table, and not — ultimately, though, he veers off toward the bar, perhaps just to get something to steady his nerves before he’s called to speak to people. Or maybe he just wants a drink.
Luther's going to need all the drinks, Poppy. He might not have come either, but for the need to support those around him and for the support in return. That, and the accompanying drinks. He's trying to behave about that part… He's trying to be more behaved, period. Trying to be more presentable. It starts with not immediately wrapping himself in an alcoholic haze as he's been wont to do, but tonight it seems to be a hard fought, losing battle. Like those present at Cat's currently, friends and practically family seated around him, Luther is also grieving.
When Chess is done pouring, he reaches over to snag the bottle neck first. His pour is slower. He nods once to the recent arrival while looking past her to Miles. The whiskey bottle is then set down for Asi and Luther stands to relinquish his seat for the Japanese woman. "Doin' okay," he says as he rises. A "be right back" nod given to the group, he swipes up his glass to weave towards the teleporter by the bar.
Cat's Cradle empties and the bartender makes sure to give Miles a double of what he's asking for with a wink, she thinks he's cute. Soon Poppy is busy clearing the place up for the opening in the morning, as the doors open to allow the last patron out there can be seen a small group of protesters across the street of the establishment with signs reading things like: Humanity First! They aren't seen for long because Poppy slams the door shut with a little too much force, locking it and going back to wiping down the bar. Eventually she joins Sassy in the back, most likely to leave the friends in mourning in peace.
More time passes and drinks are poured and memories exchanged. Music continues to play from the speakers and it's just loud enough that the door opening to the upstairs apartment goes unnoticed, quiet footfalls follow after and pale feet touch the ground floor. The toes press into the wooden floor, anchoring herself. Eve was home. Better yet almost all the people she cared about most were here! She knew this because she had been watching a lot of nights from the rooftops. Wondering how the place was doing, how her friends were doing. After seeing so many of them together there this night she knew she couldn't stay away. Let them think she was really gone, clouding into the open window of the upstairs of the apartment was easy enough after going around to avoid the crowd of racists in the front.
A hand goes to nab a freshly rolled and abandoned joint and lighter on a nearby table. The click of a lighter is very clear to the group at the table and a familiar and very much alive face appears in front of them. "Don't look so glom babies!" Black painted lips pull from the joint and she pulls it over her shoulder before grinning wildly at her friends, her family. The red of her eyes is familiar although a bit darker than the brilliant shining red since the last time they saw her. The dress she wears is black and thin, she's barefoot because why not. There are no sparks of crimson lightning bouncing off of her body. No holes in her dress from burn marks. "You didn't think I'd come this far just to actually die!"
Most importantly her eyes weren't gold.
Her excitement at seeing the others doesn't completely mask the pain at being separated for so long and to see them all together now…
Eve tries to hide her face and the tears that pour out of the corners of her eyes, "I missed you all."
By the time she hears that voice, the drink is almost empty, even the melted ice has been sipped away, leaving just some at the bottom. When Poppy had tried to refill it, she had said no. Gillian didn’t want to have to call Jolene to come to get her, or anyone else— she needed to get back to the hospital tonight, anyway. It was going to be another one of those nights— but she had been glad to spend it with these people. People she both knew and didn’t, talking about a woman who had been in their lives and was gone— again.
She had been through this one before.
But she still stands with shock, knocking over the glass at the sight of her. Last time she had been dead, it had been a mistake, a lie, she had come back with a new ability and had been the same Eve. Had it somehow, somehow happened that way again.
“Eve,” she murmurs, shock in her voice as she reaches out with her ability and can feel that bundle of energy that was her friend. It wasn’t the roaring buzzing energy that had been that creature that had possessed her. It was just Eve. And— something a little different, a little more— but still not that. She pushes up off the table and launches herself across the room and wraps her arms around the other woman, tears she had been holding back most of the night coming out, even as she smiles. “You idiot. You idiot. You idiot.”
Asi’s question to the group is answered with a lift of one shoulder, and “Miles,” is the somewhat flat, hardly alluring invitation Chess gives the man to come join them. She’s miserable, but he may as well be miserable with everyone else who misses Eve. Of course it’s probably not loud enough to really draw his attention — Luther’s on it, and she offers him a small, crooked smile of thanks.
It slides off her face when Eve shows up, and her first instinct is to grab something to charge — the whiskey bottle, which will work well as a molotov cocktail without the need for a flame.
Jason Mendoza would be so jealous.
Gillian lurching for Eve stays her hand, thankfully, but Chess stares with brown eyes wide, disbelieving. The others didn’t live through what she did. The others weren’t there for the destruction.
“How?” is all she manages to get out, covering her mouth with a trembling hand.
Eve's face is probably the last thing Monica would have expected to see— at least a version that's alive and talking to them. She blinks, glancing to the others to make sure she's not the only one seeing this. It's been a stressful time, she wouldn't have a hard time believing her mind hallucinating her lost friend, as immersed in her as she is at this moment.
But the others see her, too, so she's quietly thankful for her continued sanity and lets out a sigh.
Reaching a hand over, she squeezes Chess' shoulder when she starts to tremble. She wasn't there, but she knows it was hard, what Chess saw. What she did.
"Eve, you've got nine goddamned lives," she says, leaning on humor, even though her tone is a mix of shock and confusion.
Miles isn’t about to refuse a double of his drink, that’s for sure. There’s a nod and a smile for the bartender, and if the smile is laced with a little bit of possibility, well…hey. The possibility of free drinks can do things to a person.
He doesn’t get up, but he does look around, and that’s when he sees Luther moving toward him. The smile fades a little bit, but doesn’t disappear — he certainly doesn’t seem upset about the man coming over. Instead, he lifts a hand and nods, murmuring, “Hey.”
And he might have said something else, too, but that’s right about when the grand entrance happens. Whatever else he was going to say is forgotten, and in its place his eyes widen as he looks over at Eve, his eyes widening just a bit — just enough to notice. He isn’t quite as overcome as some people in the room, but surprise is obvious, and it’s even a happy surprise!
Asi's in the midst of drinking from the glass she's just poured for herself— the very first one, so she knows she's not drunk and seeing things. She swallows hard, details about Eve's person critically absorbed right up until the moment Gillian throws caution to the wind and steps up to be the first hug.
Well, shit.
She shares Chess's caution, but sees the lack of gold indicating the presence of the particular entity they were all anxious against.
It's Luther who Asi looks to for help in deciding her own reaction, slowly setting her glass back down on the table.
Amidst the misery cloaked around the small and solemn crowd is the air of solidarity. Luther's got his drink, sees Miles has a double, and nods both in approval and invite. They are, if he has anything to say about it, friends after all. And as such, friends don't let friends drown in the drink alone. He's got his glass up and halfway to tossing it all back when Eve blows in through the doors. The blurry image of the formerly-presumed-dead woman through the glass bottom focuses as he lowers it, blinks, and then outright stares in confusion and alarm.
"The fuck," is all Luther gets out before Gillian's blown past him to accost Eve and thus proves they're not just seeing a hallucination brought on by alcohol and lingering weed smoke. He doesn't need the substances anyway, as raw unfiltered memory of his last view of Eve rears up in mind. Fingers tighten against his glass. He fights off the darker nature of suspicion. The fingers loosen and he breathes.
Then, louder, "You always know how to make a fucking entrance, Ducky." Luther downs the remaining contents of his drink, and stalks towards the newcomer. Gillian might be first to hug. Luther's might be the last with how tight the bearhug's going to be.
Her eyes close as Gillian's body connects with hers and Eve clings tightly to the woman she viewed as a sister. She was home, they were together. Luther's hug encompasses Eve and Gilly to which Eve shrieks in laughter and kicks her legs backwards almost knocking a nearby chair over. "Ahoy Hot Hands!" Snickering and laying her head on the top of his, "So strong! So mighty! You made it back onto land! Ahoy!" Her eyes drift to the others seated or standing and she beams at them all.
"I hope it's nine or more Moni! Though this one was the strangest one yet," And that's saying a lot because none of the circumstances surrounding Eve's many deaths could be considered normal deaths. The dark haired woman looks like she's pondering and her crimson eyes glow with a burning curiosity. It is their Eve. "I just woke up in a morgue Boomer! But there's more to that!" As there always was and Eve was always willing to share with these people assembled.
When they are finally released to the ground from Luther's affection the woman stretches and then throws herself at Chess to hug her and then Monica after and then Asi and Miles she grins and leaps on. "Did ya miss me Hopper?!" Eve is clearly excited to be so surrounded with her family but there are dark tidings as always and the terror they've all been through in various forms still hangs in her mind.
"So…! I've seen the news!"
Just woke up in a morgue. Chess opens her mouth to argue with that, but instead, dumbfounded just shakes her head in confusion. The word How? doesn’t need to be repeated, as plainly written across her face as it is.
When Eve throws herself at her in a hug, it takes a second for Chess’ arms to wrap around the other woman, but when they do, the embrace is fierce and tight. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, and when Eve pulls away to hug everyone else, she watches with wide eyes, still unable to quite bring up a smile like the others. Yet.
"Seen the news? You're a wanted woman again," Monica says, her hand coming up to rub down her face. "And she shows up at her own bar, anti-evo protests across the street, face on every TV, she comes to her own damn bar." She looks up at the ceiling, silently pleading to whatever being might be out there listening. Why me. She glances around the room, making sure windows are blocked from their angle, glances toward alternate exits, takes stock of possible improvised weapons. Just in case.
She finds situational awareness more comfortable than emotional displays. Maybe later, Eve.
Or maybe never.
Eve will have to find Monica's affection in how she works to try to keep her alive. This time.
Never much for closeness in the first place, Asi keeps her distance now, remaining at the table. At the news that Eve's heard the— well, news regarding Detroit, she takes a sip from the glass poured for her finally. It's been a long day, one filled with a polite but grueling question and answer session called testimony for the affairs that had happened in Praxia, and what had happened at the steelworks last year.
She had a feeling it was nowhere near over, either.
"I think I would be more worried had you not seen the news by this point, ekisha," Asi calls out before taking a second drink.
“I didn’t have to see the news— I was there for part of it,” GIllian says, once she’s managed to stop crying enough to speak again. Cause she is stupid. “I told you not to keep going after this! I told you I couldn’t lose you again.” She had spent the last month blaming herself for going after Jac in Praxia instead of making sure that Eve stayed out of trouble. It felt like choosing one family member over another in a way. But her and Jac were now home, Peter was alive and—
There was so much she needed to tell Eve.
But that would all come later.
“I’m not letting you die on me anymore, you got that,” she says, a determined sound to her voice.
Not if she was around to stop it, at least.
As much as Eve’s entrance has Miles looking down at his drink as though he’s wondering whether he’s actually already drunk it — but no, it’s still there, and even if not it would probably have had to be a shared hallucination since everyone else sees her, too.
That confirmed, he looks back up, just in time to get a very enthusiastic hug from her. Some breath leaves him in a little *oof,* but he does make it into a sort of a laugh at the end. “You know,” he says, “I did.” He lets her go, though, and then he reaches for his drink. Since it is still unacceptably un-drunk.
Luther might be liable to never let go of Eve again, until he glances down and sees Gillian unwittingly sandwiched. Oops, sorry Gillian. Arms release the women and he steps back, conflicted between staying close by again and wanting to retreat to the bar. Like Chess, the confusion cuts the initial elation and stirs everything together into one overwhelming soak of emotions. Ultimately, he decides that Eve's pronouncement of having woken up in a morgue is excuse enough.
Maybe they're just not drunk enough for all of this.
And with Poppy away taking the much deserved break as bartender, he takes up the cause. Luther retreats back behind the counter and retrieves another grouping of bottles to share around. There's so much to drink to. Miles, closest to the bar, gets the first *thunk* of a whole bottle of his own. Luther proceeds to start opening the others.
"Wait, you said you saw the news," he remarks after tossing one cap down. They won't be needing that again. "Do you not remember what…" The man swallows back, turning to the others who were there, to Gillian. To Chess.
"I…"
"I used the window! I hope you've all been keeping to the itty bitty bug sweeps!" The pale woman looks around wearily at the corners of the establishment, was the government listening now?
How to truly begin?
"I know, I'm sorry." For coming back here when she shouldn't have, for continuing to chase after Adam and The Entity. "I try to stop but it never works. Something inside me, has to see the end. A ticking clock with my name on it, drawing the eye. I— I'm sorry I scared you." Eve looks down to the floor and slides into a seat that was vacant at the table. She smokes on the joint and closes her eyes.
"I noticed the peeping toms across the street, they say it's only getting worse around the country." The beginnings of a true race war.
"I… only remember the boat. Silas pulled the trigger bang bang. There was a feeling, a flash." Eve stops and rubs her forehead, "I awoke on a cold slab. It didn't make sense." Didn't, which would imply that Eve has some inkling of what all had happened now. "I died again, a tag on my toe. They said I didn't look like me before…" Before what exactly?
"I ran. I drove. Slept in the trees, fought with the bigots on the road. I met people, like us… all around. New ones, some in awe. Some are terrified." It'a a marvel in the wake of an unprecedented and chaotic event. "I try to sow words of comfort, hope. They can do this, we're family. I love them."
A pause and Eve opens her eyes.
"I love you." Eyeing each and every one of them. "I dragged many of you along with me and the result… has not been ideal." Eve looks a tad sheepish but above all grateful to her friends.
"I wish I could say that we're done, but B day has set a course foretold." And Eve doesn't even think, not even after all of what's happened to her, about not following the golden thread.
"You didn't drag me. And I'm not the only one who came along willingly. We all want to figure this out and do what we can to fix it." Monica shakes her head, because she's not going to let Eve take on extra guilt, not for her anyway. "The result hasn't been reached yet. We're still working."
She's hardly one to tell someone to play it safe and sit back and watch while the world burns around them. Not hardly.
"What's B Day, Eve?" Not, she assumes, the obvious definition.
Tears stream down Chess’ face, and she still seems unable to do much more than stare, her expression a mix of wonder and guilt.
Eventually she manages to speak louder than a whisper, but just barely. “You didn’t drag anyone. It wasn’t your fault.” The volume is soft, but the words are spoken with strong conviction. “I shouldn’t have left you all. I don’t know what would be different if I hadn’t gone. It couldn’t have been worse though.”
She realizes the whiskey bottle is still in her hands, and she pours out more for herself, and then some in an unused glass for Eve. “Ganbei.”
“The only time you dragged me anywhere is when you dragged me out of freezing water and saved my life. Twice. Idiot.” Gillian murmurs, shaking her head at the silly woman who, well, she still thinks should have tried to be more careful. Dying twice in two years was a bit difficult on one’s friends and loved ones. Which seemed to include most everyone in the room. “There’s so much to tell you.” Does she remember any of it?
“But it can wait.” A few hours or days won’t change what’s true now. And she’s just glad that Eve isn’t dead. She wipes away some tears as she steps back, ready to listen to what this course foretold might be.
Asi listens to the way the story weaves with a deadpan expression, her eyes going down to her drink at the mention of the boat— of what Silas had done. She thumbs the lip of the glass with force, jaw setting. Would it be too much to hope that he had somehow survived, too?
It would, and she knows it.
A slow exhale makes its way from her as she looks back up, listening to the last of what Eve's saying. Asi lifts her head just slightly to acknowledge the apology that Eve makes without using those words exactly. "So you're saying it's not over," she acknowledges with the beginnings of a frown. "That what happened in Detroit wasn't enough to end it?"
A shockwave that went round the world had been enough to drive home some hope that maybe the Entity really had been destroyed, after all.
There’s definitely some awkwardness from Miles at the various goings on — which is why the particular going on of the bottle being plunked in front of him by Luther is welcome. Yes, thank you, he will have that entire bottle of liquor all to himself. In fact, he begins to open it almost immediately, with a nod of thanks to Luther.
There’s a slight uncomfortable shift when Eve starts talking, but Monica’s question is a good one, and he glances that way, then toward Eve again to hear whatever she’s going to say about it.
Luther continues a pour, pausing only to toss back a hefty double before pouring again. There's plenty of drink to go around in the Cat's Cradle after all, so long as there's reason to. The recollection of events spur him on. "To Silas, and his fuckin' boat that saved our butts," he toasts to the man now presumed disintegrated along with the rest of the wrecked ship.
Unless the torn up vessel was somehow still floating in the Atlantic like a ghost raft on the waves.
"It wasn't your fault. You did what you had to do," adds Luther to punctuate the thunk of his glass down. He stares at Eve, then Chess, an angle brow slanted up at the women around. "And we keep doin' what needs doin' until it's done." As the saying goes, in for a penny… One way or another. The man nods once in conclusion and settles further into his hunch, waiting that next step in the explanation of what is B Day?
"The Battle of Detroit! B DAY!" In light of the horrific events surrounding that day it's just like Eve to coin a nickname and be grinning slightly at the thought.
That grin falters at the thought of what lies ahead of them, "The Dragon lies within Adam now. Not the original, the original It killed." Not wasting much more time but her eyes are on Chess, "Which means that the Hydra, however many of his clones are left. Are all infected as well." As if things didn't seem impossible enough already.
They were still working.
"I don't know where they are but I know that they plan to reduce this world to nothing but matter, stardust. End our suffering, our fighting, end the quickening destruction placed on our world. The worlds." Eve frowns and leans back in her seat, puffing from the joint. They were still working indeed. "We can put our ears to the ground starting tomorrow, mm? Maybe for right now… we can celebrate being together, again."
She had missed them so much.