Participants:
| Scene Title | Burned Aftermath |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Aftermath of disaster finds it's way underground |
| Date | August 09, 2011 |
In Dreams
The click-click-click on flat stone is a regular background noise in this part of the Ferry tunnel network; as close to the Terminal as one can get, without being in it. Easy to see anyone coming and going without them entirely noticing you. Perhaps that is why it has been transmuted into temporarily livable spaces, for transients and caretakers. And dogs.
Only one of them is nosing around, however, despite several being owned by operatives. Samson is getting older, and his belly a bit lower, but he has a couple years left in him. Chances are that he will run himself ragged until the day, and drop off into that forever-slumber. He has a lot of things to do. Like watch the others. And babysit. Only half literally. The giant old dog is rolling about on a threadbare rug in the common area, wrestling with a scrawny little match-headed boy of about five or six.
Currently, said common area is also being used for going through boxes of- well- stuff. Clothes, nondescript items, the usual batches of things that need to be doled out to specific houses or people within the network. Like using an animal for all of its parts, what the Ferry gets, it always makes uses for. Delilah is standing along a rickety poker table, trying her damndest to stuff as many folded pieces of clothing as she can into an old suitcase. It isn't going to work, but don't tell her that. With her hair braided back and the rest in a plain brown sweater and long patchwork skirt, she is dressed for comfort over most else.
"Need any help with that?"
A familiar voice rings out from behind Delilah, punctuated with the snap of fingers and a sudden wave of illumination filling the immediate area. There are other places Robyn Quinn could be, a tired smile on her face as she steps into the side of Delilah's view, an orb of light resting weightlessly in her left hand. "What are you doing down here?" Someone could be sking her the same question, and she has her reasons, but the moment she turns her eyes down towards the old suitcase.
"I'm no Tetris wizard," she remarks with a click of her tongue, "but I don't think you can make all that fix no matter how you turn it." A loko over towards Samson and Delilah's boy, and QUinn can't help but smile "I can go get you a second one, if you want. I think we have one here, just make Walter carry it. Or string it to Samson, see if he's still in good enough shape t' pull it…" She shrugs a bit, leaning against the poker table, arms crossed as the ball of light balances like a bsketball on one finger.
While Delilah might have Samson as a babysitter, Nadira's got no faithful companion to watch the little boy just shy of five that putters around her legs. Thankfully for the Egyptian woman, he's shy and doesn't wander too far, but that doesn't stop the little boy from staring at everything wide-eyed and curious. Making their way into the common area, Dal is torn between holding his mother's hand and wandering freely on his own.
Nadira's own gaze moves from her son to the other two in the room. "Looks like I chose the right time to come check up on supplies," she says, giving her son a little nudge of encouragement for him to go on and explore the room a bit. "Dal's getting big, he's outgrowing his clothes as fast as I can get ahold of them," she says with a sigh.
It's not uncommon to hear a child crying down here. With the families that live here, others who come through, members of the Ferry with children, it's an intermittent sound. But cries have such different meanings, tones, levels even varieties. The cry that's going through this part of the terminal is one of fear, the shrilly high notes of distress that is real not feigned and familiar to some who have come in contact with the young girl who is heard before she and who she's with is seen.
And when she's seen, weighing down Abby's arms it's not hard to see why. Scorched clothing, darkened and sooty, mild burns on the girl that will not leave scars but are more painful than anything, some of them wrapped by gauze. Blue eye shave welled wtih tears that fat fat and round from her eyes and down cheeks leaving a clean path behind. Halfway through 6 years of age almost, her day has been a scary one. A schedule disrupted, no kindergarten for her, no learning her advanced colors and rudimentary math, playing at recess on the swings with others. Instead she's in her mothers arms and crying.
Abigail herself isn't that much better off. Blonde hair loose, tears down her face as well, but clothes thing, new, cheap. Those that know her know what that means if the state of Kasha wasn't a clue. She's imploded. A backpack equally as singed as her daughter, at the sight of the trio, She's putting down her daughter, a not so gentle shove towards the other kids and parents. "Go" Voice wet, half garbled with it's southern twang. "You need to go. Please. I'll be back, Momma'll be back, I promise baby, okay?" No explanation for others, but she's keeping her distance. She's lost track of how long she has, but it's not that long. Respite only comes in half hours and that's almost up.
"I'd rather be a pinball wizard." Delilah fusses a moment, crossing her arms and glaring at the case as if that might change things. "I'm getting some things ready to send out. Still." Implying she was doing this for a while now.
The clap of shoes comes across the floor, followed by a sterling "I'kin carry it." There comes the little voice from the area around Dee's hip, tousled orange hair and clear blue eyes peering up over the edge of the tabletop. Walter plants his hands firmly on the edge- he's already got big hands for a six year old, that threaten to reveal the gangly thing he'll start sprouting into, in a few years. "I'm big enough, mum."
"Oh yeah? You are, huh? Suppose I should start sending you out on patrol soon?" The redhead says this as she spots Nadira and Dal. Already, Samson is heaving himself up to investigate Dal's shoes. The Traffords are a delightfully pokey lot, as always. "They do that." The quaint meeting, however, is cracked in half when there is a cry in the tunnels. Instead of further investigation of shoes, Samson is trotting closer to the common area entrance, a low rumble in his mouth.
"Oh my god." Eloquence and vocabulary, never finer points. Delilah is stricken with pause when Abby and Kasha appear through the tunnel Samson finds himself guarding, tail half-wagging when he sees who it is. "Abby, what happened? Oh- Kasha-" She nearly tips the table over crossing the room at a clip, careful to stay at a distance, as she can plainly see the signs. Samson steps away when she comes past him, watchful. "Come here, sweetie." A hand goes out to try and beckon the little girl closer, though there is little Dee can do without getting too close to something she knows is a danger.
It can't be helped - Delilah said the words "pinball wizard" and almost instantly Quinn is humming the song. In fact, she has half a mind to go retrieve her guitar and play the song for those gathered there, maybe bring a few smiles to a few faces, not to mention that, while she can be sure Walter's heard the song by now, probably thanks to his mother or Sable, she can't ahve the same confidence about Dal, whom she turns to face with a smile.
"Heya there, Dal," she says as she bends over a bit, reaching to ruffle the young boy's hair. "Heard anything good lately?" is a question directed both at him and his mother, though it holds different meanings to each. Standing back up straight, Quinn offers a small wave and a wider smile to her friend. "Nice t' see you Nadira, lookin' good as ever," is the usual jab between them. "Everything goin' okay? Looks like Dal's fine, how's Griff?" She still, after this time, doesn't know Nadira's husband very well, but it's still polite to ask, right>"
Of course, and answer that QUinn might have been waiting for is swept aside by Abby's sudden emergence, her eyes widening. "Oh my God," is echoed out, and while Delilah is stricken still, Quinn is almost immediately moving towards them, in a quick pace, to see what she can do. "What the hell happened?" is a quck inquiry. "A-Are you guys okay, what do you need? Jesus Christ…"
Dal obediently heads forward into the room when nudged, a happy smile appearing on his face as Samson heads over. He seems to regain his confidence, smiling even more brightly up at Quinn. He wrinkles his nose at the hair ruffle, as if his already messy hair had been styled that way. The wails, however, cause the boy to go skittering back to his mother's side—hard to tell if it was from fear himself or from protectiveness over his mother. He gets that from his dad.
Nadira's gaze moves quickly to Abby, her eyes on both her and Kasha as she assesses the situation. No need to explain the situation, she's already got a rough idea. Her hand clamps down on Dal's shoulder, a familiar gesture that says 'stay', and the boy remains rooted to the spot as the dark haired woman makes her way forward. Kasha's being handled by Delilah, so no second glance is given to the child, and instead she focuses on Abby. "Abby," she greets quickly, though she's careful to stay back enough of a distance. "Do you need help?"
Kasha's running, not that she needs much inspiration to do such. The trip through the tunnels to here was long and through years of living with Abby, she and Kasha had come up with plans and rules re: what to do if your mother blows up. Adrenaline rules and with it, uncontrolled bouts of flammability. There's still a scorch pattern in the central terminal from when she first had an accident way back when down here.
Kasha is safe, wrapping her arms around Delilah and burying her face in the womans chest, muffling the sounds of her sobbing even as Abby's kicking off cheap canvas keds and backing off, backing away from Quinn and Nadira who are starting to move forward, backpack slung to land with a thud on the floor, the majority of their belongings now there, in that hiking pack. "You can't help.
"I killed my husband"
"I need you to take her, I need someone to take her, I hurt her, I tried to put her down in time but I didn't get far away enough and I killed Robert, I killed Ro-Robert" The words run as then tend to do when she's emotional. "I can't stop turning"
Samson hangs in the middle of the bustle, it seems like, brown eyes wary of Abby more than the little girl. Walter, however, makes his concerns a little bit more vocal, though he is still keeping back. "Mum, what's going on?"
Delilah crouches down to intercept the little girl, letting her bury her face in sweater, and both arms wrapping protectively around the tinier form. Her lips move closer to the girl's ear, murmuring placating things as she reaches around to inspect the bandaging, just in case there is anything that she has to do right away for them. Deciding to allow Quinn and Nadira to field Abby, Dee has little choice but to gently hoist Kasha up from the ground and tote her over to an old sitting chair amongst some other commandeered furniture, its own foam spilling out on one side. What she can hear of Abby's explanation, this was no ordinary incident. Not at all.
"Walter, go and get a first aid box, you know where they are?" The boy, halfway between scampering to his mother comforting Kasha, blinks once, and nearly trips over his own shoes when he pivots and patters his way to the next room over.
"W-What?" If Quinn's eyes could widen any further, she would do just that. It's unfortunately not uncommon for one to hear about the death of a friend's family, family members, friends, or anything else. Not now, not any time in the last few years.
Hearing that they are to blame is kind of a new one, at least for Quinn.
"Abby… Abby…" Quinn takes a few more steps in approach, but not much closer. She's trying not to sound frantic, but with Kasha as scared as she is, and the apparent threat of Abby going all fire dancer in the middle of a place like this, it seeps through anyway. "Abby, c-calm down. What do you mean, you killed Robert? What happened?"
The words aren't exactly the ones Nadira was expecting to hear. What she was simply expecting was that Abby was having difficulty with her ability, not that she's murdered her husband. She remains where she is, stance firm as she keeps a safe distance from Abby but close enough that she's still clearly not going to retreat nor let Abby just run off. Her gaze shifts to Quinn for a moment, giving her a small nod. It's meant to be calming.
"Abby, you're safe here," the Egyptian soothes. "Kasha's going to be fine and you're here and we're going to make sure you're safe too." She raises a hand, water forming in a small ball within it. "If you turn, you'll be okay. I won't let anything catch, alright? Just take a deep breath and calm down, that's the first step."
"Water will kill me Nadira" And it will, if fully in flame, send her into shock. It had been done once, and she'd survived, the timing of everything had made her swear that she would never let that happen ever again. Her hands come up, palms up, warding the others off even as Kasha is sobbing in Delilah's arms, telling her where it hurts and what little she knew. Of coming down the tunnel and her mother going into fire.
"I killed Robert. He told me who he was, he told me that he was James Muldoon, and I… I burned him. I killed him. I didn't mean to it just happened. So don't tell me to calm down, or that I'm safe here, or to breath. I don't have much longer, I can feel it. I need to go back in the tunnels, I need, I need someone to take care of Kasha. I need to know she's okay."
James Muldoon is a name that Delilah is familiar with, someone she divulged about near the start of their friendship, the reason that they met so long ago in Cat's apartment buildins slash safehouse. Someone she never talked about anymore until now. "Don't come near me"
Delilah knows better than to interrupt, but at the same time she knows that it may be better if Abby does leave. Her son nearly crashes into her when he comes back, holding the box aloft as if he were suddenly Indiana Jones running from that rolling boulder. "Let her go, girls, she has to go. It's okay, she's gonna be alright." Dee strokes tears from Kasha's face with one hand, as she examines some of the worse looking burns on her arms. Her voice is low, and calm, as if she has done this forever. "You'll be okay, Kasha. Let me see this one…"
The news of Muldoon strikes her in her heart, but she has already been doing her utmost best to keep whatever sudden rage she has, quelled to a knot down in her gut. Still, there is a shudder in her shoulders, seething there and coming from the bottom of her spine.
"We've got her." Delilah finally looks towards the fire mimic, in her smoky clothes and ragged features. If there is something more that they share, it is that capacity for their abilities ruining everything- Abby has it worse, and Dee knows it. "If you need to go, go. But come back to us soon. Please."
Quinn's expression is flat and confused. Names she's unfamiliar and a few things that would probably carry more weight to someone who isn't her; it's something she'll have to try and not focus on for the moment, instead glancing from Abby to Kasha and back when the councilwoman insists that no one come any closer. She grits her teeth, taking a step back uncomfortably. "Kasha'll be fine, Abby. If you need t' go somewhere before things get worse, get on." The last thing they need is this place going up in flames too, to be honest.
Quinn hasn't missed the part about killing her husband, and knowing what she does of the woman's ability, she's fairly sure the whole it was an adccident thing is pretty true. So, rather than press the subject more, she lets it drop, looking helplessly back to Nadira.
The names mean nothing to Nadira, but Robert and James and whomever else involved aren't important at the moment. "I meant I wont let anything else catch," she explains, watching the woman carefully. She stays where she is, but she shakes her head. "We understand. Okay? Go into the tunnels, do what you need to do. We've got Kasha and the rest of us will be safe." Her gaze moves to Dee at her words, then she looks back to Abby. "Come back to us soon," she agrees. "Come back to your daughter soon."
She needs to go, she can feel it unfurling in her, the internal heat, finger on the pulse of flame as it starts to come back into being. Abby switches her gaze from Nadira and Quinn to Delilahl, to kasha who watches, sobs having abated to just tears and whimpers that make her shudder in the red heads lap.
"Tell them to get the negation drug. When they have enough, tell them to come find me, I'll be in the tunnels. Tell… Tell Deckard, I'm sorry. Tell him I'm so very sorry, I didn't know who else to call"
and she's gone, clothes starting to smoke, a promise of igniting if she can't tamp it down long enough. She's retreating down the hall, back out to the tunnels at a run, away from others, away from the GCT and away where she'll do less damage than she's already done.
Samson takes a few steps down the tunnel after the woman runs back through it, his tail sunken and feet heavy.
"We'll get your momma better soon, I promise." Delilah says this into the dusty blonde head of hair, eyes on the now empty space where Abby had been a moment ago. She takes the kit from Walter and sets it aside on the arm of the chair, flicking open the lid to find a wipe, first. For lack of better ideas, the little boy beside the chair roots around in one low-hanging pocket and produces a wrapped peppermint in an outstretched hand. Girls like candy, right?
"Can one of you ladies look for what Abby needs? I don't want her out there all alone longer than she has to be. She can't be out there all alone…" The tone the redhead uses is serious enough, littered with a quiver. Whatever caused this must have been dire indeed.
Quinn watches for a moment as Abby hurries off, her worry worn on her sleeve as she takes a deep breath, nodding as she turns back to nadira and Delilah. "I'll find some drugs, I think there's some in the Terminal proper." And she needs to run by their small medical station anyway, to pick up a few things. "Nadira, find some clothes for Abby. She's definitely going to ened them, and I doubt the last thing she wants is to be paraded through Grand Central in a towel."
Before leaving, she takes a step to Kasha, kneeling down so that she eyes are more level with the child's. "Delilah's right. Your mum's going t' be fine, we'll make sure of it. Just… sit tight here for a few minutes, an' be a good girl. If there's anything you want, just ask, alright?" Standing back straightup, Quinn looks to Delilah and nods. "I'll get some ice for her too. See if we have any ointment…" And with that, the Irishwoman is off herself, to gather the needed materials.
Nadira doesn't move until Abby's completely out of view and she stumbles when she turns, Nadal having snuck up behind her in the time since Abby retreated. The Egyptian reaches down and takes his hand, moving back in towards the rest of the common room. "Agreed," she replies to Quinn, moving towards the table of clothes. "She'll have her dignity, at the very least. I should be able to find something that fits her. Come on, Nadal, do you want to help pick out something nice for Abby?"
"Can I go help Nadira, mum?" Her son doesn't need to ask her twice. Delilah all but shoos him away after he's given the little girl the sweet- which, incidentally, she found very sweet. The innocence of kids never ceases to amaze her, even now. Walter catches up alongside Nadal, smiling his toothy smile. One of his lower teeth is out, making the expression more than a little disarming.
It all leaves Dee virtually alone with the little girl, once Nadira moves off. All but Samson, who trundles his way over to lie down beside the foot of the chair, waiting and watching.