Dialogue with a Thrush


eileen_icon.gif kaylee2_icon.gif

Scene Title Dialogue with a Thrush
Synopsis Kaylee gives Eileen her version of events involving what happened to Peter the night the Petrelli Mansion was attacked.
Date March 21, 2010

Upper West Side — Petrelli Mansion: Kaylee's Room

The young telepath, despite the exhaustion that plague her, hasn't hardly slept. It's hare to sleep after having a strange man attack you in a place you thought as safe, being worried about the safety of the young teen in the next room over. She's also fretting over Peter, waiting impatiently when she can finally go see him, asking for updates of the house staff when she can.

It's one of those moments when she should be sleeping, but she's standing at the window of her room. A blanket is wrapped about her shoulders, helping the gray sweats she's wearing to keep her warm. She can feel the cold radiate through the frosty window, it makes the fevered woman shiver and huddle deeper in blanket. There is a somewhat blank look in her eyes as she listens to the silence in her head. The shock of losing her ability still somewhat fresh for her.

A small brown bird with dust-coloured feathers, a pale breast with dark brown spots and long pink legs alights on the windowsill with a flutter of its frail wings, too diminutive and nimble to disturb the snow stacked on the window's concrete lip. Wood thrushes aren't an uncommon sight in New York City — especially not in Central Park, which Kaylee's window overlooks. Much of the reservoir has iced over, leaving only a few patches of freshwater to glitter silver where what little of the sun's light is reflected in its pristine surface.

You look a fright, the thrush observes in Eileen's voice.

Blue eyes seem to refocus, dropping to the bird on the window sill, brows dropping. The young woman looks confused for a moment, as if for a moment she forgets what Eileen's ability was. When it hits, her blonde brows lift high on her head. Gripping the sill on her side of the window, Kaylee slowly lowers herself to her knees, the last few inches jarring as she drops to them. One shaking hand moves to quickly fumbles with the window so she can open it enough to speak to the bird

"Eileen?" Kaylee looks amused, she always wondered about the womans ability. Glancing over her shoulder at the shut door, her voice lowers, making the roughness of it more pronounced. "I probably look about how I feel." The blast of sharp cold hitting her abused lungs, causes her to start coughing harshly, head ducking down to cover her mouth with a hand.

It comes away splattered with blood, "I'm glad you came by." The young woman croaks out softly, glancing up at the tiny bird, as she pulls a hankerchief out of her pocket. "Have you seen the news?" It's asked as she wipes at her hand.

The thrush takes advantage of the opening and flicks its wings to propel itself inside like a leaf blown in by the wind. It floats down onto one of the bed's ornate brass posts, using its clawed feet to find purchase, and perches there, matchstick legs rigid and tail fanned for extra balance as it surveys the room with glittering black eyes and a needle-sharp beak parted into what could pass for a grim smile if only it had proper lips with which to speak.

I have, Eileen says. I was hoping I might hear your side of the story.

"Good." Kaylee says firmly, moving to sit on the bed, after making sure the window shuts. "Peter had someone named Melissa come by the mansion…" Blue eyes narrow a bit in thought. "I — heard she's Ferry?" There is a sigh and she glances at the frosted window again. "We were talking and a suddenly Peter went flying.. telekinetically thrown around before being tossed out the window. I was thrown over with the couch…" She trails off thoughtfully, looking back at the bird that seems to hold the mind of Eileen.

"The man was made of smoke. I didn't see him as well as Melissa though." But Kaylee does her best to describe the man. "If Melissa is Ferrymen she'll be able to tell you more. The blue ball cap made seeing some of his face hard." Her voice catches again, cough over taking her again, doubling her over. Shoulder shaking with it, at least this time, the cloth is over her mouth.

Taking a deep breath, Kaylee's voice is scratchy and pain filled. "Melissa did something to him.. He screamed in pain, I'm guessing Melissa did something, but he still took out a scalpel and started cutting into her head." The air in her lungs wheeze a bit threatening another cough, but it doesn't come along. "I tried to hit him with a fireplace pokers, but he seemed to know I was coming up behind him, he turned to smoke and went out the window." She straightens slowly. "I — I thought he was going to take Peter, but… I think the fact he's sick stopped the man."

Swallowing back the lump of her throat, Kaylee says softly. "Peter was in really bad shape."

A short leap lands the thrush amidst the rumpled folds of Kaylee's silk coverlet and the sheets beneath, their soft material woven from Egyptian cotton with a high thread count and a luxurious texture that its delicate little feet cannot appreciate. Eileen is silent for the time being and while she's busy processing the other woman's versions of events, the thrush bounces a few brisk hops across the length of the mattress all the way up to the pillows at the bed's wooden headboard.

It ducks its head and tips it sideways as if attempting to gauge the distance between the mattress' edge and the adjacent nightstand where a cloth and accompanying bowl of water were left by the Petrelli's personal physician several hours ago. Was the man young or old? is what Eileen wants to know. Dark or fair?

No matter how sick a person is, watching a bird flit around like it owns the place, will make someone smile. Kaylee looks rather amused, she actually for the time forgets her ability is gone. , as least till she tries to use it to touch the womans mind. It makes her focus again, the blanket tugged tighter around her.

"Older I think.. salt and pepper hair.. his hands looked older." She licks her lips in thought. "He seemed pale?" Eyes narrow some and she shakes her head. "I… I'm not sure. But I remember he seemed a lot older. " A smile curling a touch on her lips, as she says, "Like Deckard older." It was the first person she could think of.

A swift series of minute calculations later, the thrush is sitting on the bowl's porcelain edge with its toes curled around the groove to prevent it from losing its grip as it dips down to drink, head tipped back to allow a trickle of lukewarm liquid to run down its throat. It doesn't need very much to slake its thirst, and is soon submerging its belly and breast in the shallow water, feathers fluffed to expose its skin to the bath.

Quick snaps of its wings create a twinkling shower of glossy droplets that beads in its plumage and glances off its back as it helps itself to what Kaylee is meant to wash her face and hands in. Is there anything else you can remember? Eileen asks. Did he speak?

A chuckle tumbles from her lips ending in a small cough, a hand is held up. "I'm sorry Eileen." Apologizing for the birds antics amusing her, pulling her face into something more serious, her blue eyes drop to the floor at her feet, eyes narrowing. "It would be so much easier if I could share the memory," The young woman's words mourn the loss.

"Um…" She closes her eyes against the prickle of tears. " Told Melissa it would be over soon.." She murmurs as she works at remembering.. "Told her to help him…." Brows drop and she looks at the bird again, "'Help me take away the pain.' Is what he said… I.. don't know if he meant her own.. or.. or his." After another moment of thought, her head slowly shakes. "That's all. Not a man of many words."

Blowing a breath out of her mouth, giving another small cough, but nothing too threatening. "I'm worried he'll come back… I just.. He used three abilities that I saw. There telekinetics, the smoke and… " She straightens a bit at a thought. "Oh.. and inducing sleep… after I tried to brain him, he tried to make us sleep." There is a touch of satisfaction as she adds, "He couldn't quite get me to go under it."

Kaylee's description does not sound anything like the Sylar that Eileen knows, which likely means that Teodoro was right: he is innocent of Wendy Hunter's murder. The thrush's tiny face does not emote well, but the Englishwoman's voice has adopts a terser quality that conveys her concern with quiet effectiveness. I'll let Raith know, she resolves as the thrush shakes itself dry and abandons the water bowl for the drier windowsill where it started, remaining on the warm side of the glass to bask in the heat wafting off the cast iron radiator beneath it. We'll do what we can.

There is a look of relief on the young woman's face. "If there is anyone I trust to get stuff done, it's you and Raith." Kaylee states matter of fact, letting the blankets fall from her shoulders. "I'd offer my help, but… at this point I'm useless." There is a touch of embarrassment at that admission. Hands grip the bed post and she uses it to help her to her feet, one of her legs tingling slightly like it's asleep. It makes her have to limp when she moves to the window, so she can open it for the bird.

"Give Raith and Teo my best, huh?" A Small smile touches her lips, "Miss being around those two, quirky and dangerous is an interesting mix." Fingers hook on the window to open it. "I — dunno if you'll see Joseph. Tell him I miss his advice and to pray for everyone… Colette — I — just plain miss her.." Her words sound more final, but then she's is very aware of the fatality rate. "And.. don't tell Scott and McRae where I am? I'm not taking any deals. Only here cause Peter wants me safe and cared for."

Finally, the window opens. "Thank you for coming by Eileen." Kaylee slowly crouches near the bird. "Hopefully, we'll get to talk again in person and you'll have some good news." Though she doesn't sound overly confident of that.

The thrush takes a few additional moments to comb its beak through its feathers and make sure that they're all sitting as they should before it gives an experimental spread of its wings, a twitch of its long tail and turns its attention back out the window and its own reflection in the glass. The migratory birds returning to New York City are in for a difficult spring, and Eileen will be too.

A glance up at a downy white sky streaked with charcoal clouds confirms that there are no airborne predators circling the block in search of something small and plump that will fit easily in their talons. Be well, Kaylee, functions as a curt good bye as the thrush springs from the window and catches a slow-blowing breeze that carries it speedily out of sight.

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