Participants:
| Scene Title | Entertainment Tonight |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Upon hearing of Koshka's impending boredom, Samara decides to pay her a visit to provide some distraction (and maybe a dose of fun?) |
| Date | December 21, 2010 |
Situated in a copse several miles away from the nearest stretch of asphalt, the Garden is accessible via an old dirt road that winds snakelike through the woods and dead-ends at the property's perimeter, which is surrounded by stone wall plastered with wicked coils of rusty barbed wire to keep would-be intruders from attempting to scale it. Those with a key can gain entry via the front gate.
//The safehouse itself is a three-story brickwork cottage over a century old and covered in moss and ivy. It slants to one side, suggesting that the foundation has been steadily sinking into the wet earth; incidentally, this may be one of the reasons why its prior occupants never returned to the island to reclaim their property when government officials lifted evacuation orders and re-opened the Verrazano-Narrows shortly before its eventual destruction. //
Inside, the cottage is decorated in mismatched antique furniture including a couch in the living room and an armchair nestled in the corner closest to the fireplace that go well with the safehouse's hardwood floors and the wood-burning stoves in some of the spare bedrooms. A heavy wooden table designed to seat eight separates the dining area from the rest of the kitchen, which is defined by its aged oak cabinetry and the dried wildflowers hanging above them.
It's always so cold out here. Cold enough to make even the quiet seem like it might break. Cold enough that the thin layer of snow on the ground crunches under foot. The three story brick building itself seems the only thing withstanding the chill, stoicly looming and safeguarding the warmth within.
But Koshka is found outside this late afternoon, rather than inside where it's warm. Sable and the two dogs had taken off for who knows where, the woods most likely, leaving the teen to amuse herself. This, apparently, is being done by throwing stones at a series of cans lined up along an old fence. No unattended firearms practice here.
The sound of rock on tin *tings* lightly with every stone thrown. The sounds are followed by a moment of silence while the youth, bundled in jacket, hat, and scarf, resets the cans and seeks out the rocks. Her feet crunch across the ground, following a path well worn into the thin layer of snow. Some spots are showing dark brown underneath, the natural foundation of the Garden itself. She's been at this a while.
Brian had mentioned there was a bored teenaged girl at this address, someone who could use some kind of cheering up. And if there's one thing Samara knows, it's how to cheer people. Not that she could be a ray of sunshine strolling through Staten Island, but when she approaches, all of her steps, expression, and eyes turn alight.
She's bundled in a black peacoat with her husky toque and matching mittens. On her back she has this giant backpack that is too big for the rather petite twenty-something. "Helllloooo~" she sings with her approach as her gaze lingers on the cans and her smile turns lopsided. There's an unusual brightness to the tone, her movement, and her excitement. Her currently slightly more green than hazel eyes narrow slightly, but her smile extends. "Are you Koshka? Brian gave me this address to find Koshka— "
Ting, ting.. then silence greets the sing-song voice. Too late to hide, Koshka immediately turns a guarded look to Samara. Blue eyes narrow slightly and the smile isn't returned. Visitors all the way out here aren't a common thing, and she's taking the warnings of being cautious around people she doesn't know to heart.
"Depends on who you are," Koshka answers with a roll of her shoulders. She sounds, for all her wariness, unconcerned with a stranger being here; perhaps having met Brian a couple of times she can feign some measure of confidence. Turning slightly from Samara, the youth goes to retrieve her discarded stones and reset the two overturned cans.
"Weeeeeell," the auburn haired woman chimes with a bright grin, "I'm Brian's girlfriend, Samara. But just call me Sami or Sam." Her airy steps bring her beside the youth to watch the game at hand. Her head tilts a little as she aligns her gaze, albeit somewhat haphazardly, and certainly with no skill if she was aiming to actually knock over a tin herself. Her grin grows a little as she lowers the backpack to the ground, sitting along the frosty ground. Fortunately it's too cold for the contents to easily be drenched by the ice. "Well this looks really— " boring? redundant? "— time consuming— " trust the eternal optimist to find some kind of positive twist to it.
She hmmms quietly while her nose wrinkles slightly, "Brian was kind of useless when it came to giving me any ideas of what you'd like to do. Seemed to think all women like the same thing or something," her eyes rolls slightly, "so I brought different things because, well, we've never met. I mean— " she stares openly at the cans, "— unless you really love what you're doing. Which, then, I guess you aren't bored and he overexaggerated a little…"
Drawing up another side long, slightly suspicious look, Koshka lays out the pile of stones on the fence. Brian's girlfriend. Yeah, he mentioned having one of those. So, she seems real enough. "Yeah, well it's good for coordination," she explains, though if there's any truth to her claims it's beyond her. She's doing throwing rocks because there's nothing else around here.
Yet for all her suspicion, Koshka finally cracks a grin. "I kinda got that impression from him. Just.. some guy who… you know. Thought like a guy." She shrugs and drops her hands into her pockets. "He wasn't too far off, though. There's almost nothing to do out here." Besides being cold. And chopping wood.
Sam's smile softens a little now, "Yeah. He's a good guy, just… boy-ish." She crouches down to fish through her backpack. "But yeah, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't enjoy" she motions towards the can "hours of these either." With a quick shrug, from her tickle trunk she extracts item number one: a small baggy with beads, string, and various clasps of shapes and sizes. "I recognize you can't really do this one outside and I don't know if you're crafty, but sometimes it's just helpful to keep your hands busy."
"And you don't want to do this outside, I don't think." Samara straightens as she passes the little baggy to the teenager. "You know, Brian told me you were here, but he didn't actually explain why." Her face contorts a little with a quiet hmmm.
Why is a good question, and not one that's acknowledged even as Koshka takes the baggy. "Very boy-ish," she agrees with a shake of her head. Lifting the baggy up, the youth peers at the beads within. "He came over here and kicked me awake." That's not entirely true, but a foot was used in nudging her to coherency. "Wasn't even light outside yet. And he goes 'Made you eggs, come downstairs and talk.'"
Several fingers are pressed over Sami's lips as her head shakes, "I don't think he even likes eggs." Although hers were uncommonly bad. "You know he cares because he cooked. He can't for the record. Except spaghetti. Not that I can talk, he actually had to teach me how to cook spaghetti." She shrugs again as she reaches back into the backpack of tricks to take out— Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. "Now I realize if you haven't read the others, this one will make literally no sense. But I just read it because… well there was awhile where I could literally do nothing. And it was on my bucket list." Along with a lot of other things like befriending a homeless person, jumping out of a plane, and shooting a gun.
"He's good at the making people talk thing," she admits quietly as the book is held out for Koshka.
"He made pretty good eggs," Koshka returns, taking the book. Of course, she'll eat anything. Except brussel sprouts. "Cool! I was on like.. the third or fourth book before…" She opens the cover and flips through several of the pages. Not too far, no need to totally spoil the story or become engrossed with a visitor about.
"What's a bucket list," the teen asks as she looks up from the book. The cover is closed and the item handed back. "And if that's the only one you read, you should read the others. They're really good."
"I think I read the first three," Sam's gaze turns upwards in an effort to remember. Her mittened hands are shoved into her pockets as she rocks on the balls of her feet back and fourth. "I really remembered liking them and when this one came out I wanted it so bad, but it was well, a pain to turn pages at the time."
The warmth in her smile becomes tempered by lost time, "You see… when the bomb went off like four years ago I was in New York and I disappeared. Everyone I knew thought I'd died! There was a funeral, my parents were there, my bother and my sister were there, and the only person that could see me was my best friend who I'd clung to when the explosion happened." Sam clears her throat, "Brian was actually the first person to really see me. I was visible to people, but only in reflections and no one except Rue, my best friend, could hear me. It wasn't until I met Brian that even thought I could be alive." There's an even brighter sparkle in Sam's eyes. "All of that to say reading was hard." Her hands are removed from her pockets now and splayed in front of her, "But dying— or not dying as the case may be— made me write a list of things to do before I'm gone for good. That's my bucket list: everything I want to do before I kick the bucket. Livin' for the moment and all." She winks.
Koshka turns from curious to adolescently uncomfortable while listening to Sami's recount and explanation. Mental note, be careful what questions you ask that one. "That's.. I mean…" Just how do you respond to something like that? The youth, in the end, offers an apologetic grin. "Least you're not invisble now."
Clearing her throat and pulling her hat further down around her ears, the teen turns to look toward the front of the house. "Complaints aside, Brian seems alright. Seems like he knows things and cares enough." All this is said off handed. "It's good you're all.. not a reflection anymore. You seem alright, too."
Talking to only one person for four years is like keeping a cork in everything. And it's not like Sam didn't talk, they just couldn't hear her. "Honestly? Every day is a gift. If I can learn, grow, or just get better then… even that time wasn't a waste." She's found a dose of perspective today— something that seems to change daily.
She shrugs a little as she reaches back into the backpack. Yes, she came well prepared today. This time she takes out, a crossword puzzle book. At this she nearly frowns, "I'm not a huge puzzler myself. But I do remember this one really long flight" it wasn't that long "where a puzzle book actually kept me sane," if you ask her siblings it didn't, "because I'm a little ADD so I need to like keep myself busy with things. So. Puzzle book."
And doesn't Koshka look thrilled at that. Yeah, she's a hard one to read at times, for all her indecisiveness. "Never could get into crosswords. Maybe being out here until who knows when'll change that." After all, there's not a whole lot of other options for entertainment.
"No body saw you come out here, did they," Koshka asks as she looks back to Samara. "I mean… I guess you're cool and all if Brian told you about it. But… You know…" Does she know?
Sam's head tilts a little, "Well, I just figured having something to do is better than nothing. And I went through a time when I could do very little so I just tried to come up with a laundry list of things that could potentially pass the time. I've heard some people love crosswords." Like Koshka, Sam really isn't one of them.
"I'm pretty sure no one even knows I exist. Remember?" she points at herself, not that the actually point can been seen through her mitten, "Dead." With a more fleeting shrug she shakes her head, "I'm as far off the radar as a person can get so being followed isn't a huge concern. Besides, no one knew I was going other than Brian— " and theoretically he could follow her without knowing, maybe. "I can't really say I do know though… like I said, I was given few details other than you're bored and you need something to do. And from the sounds of it I can be at least semi-entertaining. Sometimes."
"Okay. Well—" Koshka will just give a heads up to Sable about the visitor, no big deal. "So are you really dead? Or did you die and find your way back to your body?" Because that sort of thing happens every day. The youth looks up at Sami, brows raised in question. A dead person who's not actually dead is quite interesting.
"I'm not dead. I wasn't dead. I was just…" Sami's eyes light up as she considers the best way to phrase what happened. "I wasn't wholly myself." Her eyes blink with satisfaction at her answer, giving a little flutter of eyelashes in doing so. "You see, I have an ability and when the bomb went off it went into overdrive and I disappeared." Her eyebrows arch expectantly at the phrase.
"So why are you here, Koshka? I mean, it's obviously not because of the amazing activities or other kids?" Now a single brow quirks as her lips curl upwards.
"Oh, so what you do can kind of make you invisible," Koshka states, musingly. "That's pretty cool. Bad situation and suddenly they can't find you." The possibilities of being able to do something like that… She grins at the thought of being able to just disappear.
The question brings the return of that guarded look. Though Koshka still plays off as casual and unconcerned. "S'where Brian brought me. Kinda where I'm staying for now."
"Why did Brian bring you here?" Sam quirks as she busies herself with the backpack again. It's not empty yet. "I know he helps a lot of people who have abilities find a place where they can be safe." Like Lighthouse. Which still needs a new location. "He's a lot more.. connected than a lot of people I know. I think, if this is where he brought you, this is probably one of the safest places you can be." She shoots the teenager a small smile followed by a shrug.
"And what I can do is both a blessing and a curse, but I think that's the way life is with the things that matter most." These words bring out another activity, this one not nearly as involved as the others. "Now, I don't know if you like painting your fingernails etc, but I really liked all of the colours in this mini-pack. So I bought it. I know before— " she died "I used to love painting like shapes and stuff on my fingernails with toothpicks. Like flowers."
"I don't know why Brian brought me here." Except that it is safe, and a good place to hang out when you need to fall back under that radar. "But— He helped, and I needed the help. And that's why he brought me here." She grins, satisfied with her summarized reason. Lacks in details, but it's not far from the truth.
The teen's grin turns catty at the nailpolish. Her dad would likely have a fit if she put anything like that on, but since he's not here… "That could be fun. Could we do other things? Not just flowers but like.. something else?" Skulls and crossbones? Christmas trees?
"Well, there's lots of people out there willing to help others just because it's the right thing to do no matter who they are and where they're from," evolved or not. "And this is a good place, even if it's quiet." Sami's grin extends as she nods emphatically and reaches into the backpack for toothpicks. "We can paint anything we want. Or are capable of. I mean, maybe you could paint the Mona Lisa, but my artistic ability ends at like… flowers. Anything much more detailed than that and I'll fail."
A glance is given towards the house, "We could go inside and do it or we could try in the cold." Her face contorts as she attempts to remember, "Does nailpolish dry in the cold?"
There's hesitation about going inside. Brian sent Samara here, but Sable isn't around to give the go-ahead. They should really come up with a pass phrase or something around here. "We could do that later," Koshka decides, as much fun as it would be she should err on the side of overcautious. "—I'm sorry. I could try and get the fire going out here, but I think we should stay outside."
Not waiting for a reply, Koshka heads to the stack of cut logs, selecting and gathering an armload to line in the firepit near the side of the cottage. "I'm sorry," she repeats again, glancing toward Sami then back to the logs. Hopefully this will suffice, since there isn't much in the way for company out here.
"No need to apologize," Samara waves her hand flippantly. "Believe me. I used to walk through walls all of the time and saw all kinds of things I wished I hadn't." She hmmms, "And some things I really wished I hadn't." A distinct shudder creeps down Sami's shoulders down to her toes complete with an edging of goosebumps. Not every image should be remembered or seen, even by the invisible.
"Can I help? I used to go camping with my family so I know something about starting a fire" if she can remember it. She follows after Koshka in the crunchy snow underfoot. "Do you have matches? Or do we need to like… rub sticks together?"
A relieved look passes over the youth's face, a look that quickly becomes quite literally 'Ew'. Yes, we don't need to talk about what sorts of things might have been seen that shouldnt' have been. Koshka drops her load of wood beside the firepit, then drops herself onto her knees to sort of stack the cuttings for better burning.
"You can rub sticks together if you want," Koshka says with a laugh. "I was going to bring some already burning stuff out from inside." Yeah, she's a cheater. The teen brushes her hands off again and looks up at Sami. "Want to get some bark and kindling stuff to put over the logs? There's some by the firewood."
With a girlish giggle Sami shakes her head, "Nooooooo thank yooou~ I will do it your way! In fact, the easier the better!" She trudges towards some of the trees that have already been stripped of their bark and uses her teeth to remove the mitten from one of her hands. "There was this one time when I was four and camping with my brother and sister" and her parents, but they're irrelevant to the story, "and we spent hours rubbing sticks together. It literally got us no where~" Then with a lopsided smirk she adds, "Turns out rubbing two wet sticks together doesn't make fire…"
"No, wet sticks wouldn't work," Koshka agrees easily. She stands and leaves Sami to find kindling. Meanwhile, she heads inside to procure some burning wood. And maybe some cocoa.
Inside, the youth locates the cocoa and sets it, along with a couple of mugs and a pot of water just outside the door. Best heat it up outside instead of in. She takes the time to bank the fire as well, adding in a fresh log to keep the heat going while securing one to fuel the fire outside, carried in tongs of course. Assuring that the door is closed behind her, Koshka heads back around to the firepit, to carefully add in the already burning log to the cold ones waiting to be burned.
Several armfuls of kindling later has Sami settling near the fire pit, strategically placing the easily burned material such that the tongues of fire may catch the actual logs. When the burning log is added, she inhales a deep breath while her eyes close involuntarily around it, "I looove that smell. It's full of memory. And warmth. Everything about it just… " she smiles.
Koshka fixes the burning wood into the pile, working it so the kindling catches and brings the heat into the cold logs with plenty of air to still feed the flames. Then it's back to the door to collect the pot, mugs, and cocoa mix, careful not to spill much. "I like it," she agrees on returning again. The pot is nudged in close to the fire, but not so much as to risk putting it out. "It's a nice smell. Comforting and… yeah. What you said, too."
"I haven't had hot cocoa since— " beat "you know what, I can't remember when! I am soooo pumped!" Sami's still umittened fingers pluck each of the nailpolishes in turn. "You should… paint something really awesome and different on each nail. Or I can do it for you." She squints at the back of the packaging to read the directions, "If it'll dry. I really can't remember if nailpolish dries in the cold or not…" Her lips press together tightly like this will aid in her thought process.
"It doesn't say anything on the package…" Her head turns away from the green bottle of nailpolish back to Koshka, "I gave this sleeping girl a makeover and I totally painted a pattern on each of her nails. One was a snowman! I really liked the snowman… I gave him a red scarf…"
Koshka leans in toward Sami, as though to divulge some great secret, the sort known only to a half dozen of the world's population. "Cocoa is way better than coffee," she states, very seriously and in very low tones. Straightening again, she picks up a couple of the bottles of polish, admiring the different colors.
"You gave a sleeping girl a makeover?" Koshka, though her focus is on the little bottles of paint, sounds vaguely incredulous. "Do you think she was upset when she woke up?"
There will be no disagreement on that point from Samara, "Cocoa is like God's hot drink gift to mankind! I never really understood tea. I mean… it's thin, it's nearly colourless, and a person may as well just drink hot water. And coffee is like… burnt-tasting. Apparently they actually like burn the beans to make coffee happen." There's an incredulous nod at this, coffee happens.
"Well, I guess we'll have to wait and see when she wakes up. She's still sleeping and has been for a month a half or something." Sami's jaw tightens while her eyes narrow, "I think she'll like it! Honestly, she looks much more awake now with her makeup done and her eyebrows reshaped. And her nails look pretty fabulous if I don't say so myself…"
"Why's she sleeping," Koshka asks as she replaces the two bottles she'd picked up in exchange for a different color. "Seems kind of strange to sleep so long, is she sick?" The teen opens the bottle in her hands, a truer purple type color, and dabbles the brush end against the mouth of the bottle before painting the color onto her thumbnail.
"She can't…" Samara hmmms quietly, "wake up right now. It's like her ability." Which only brought issues when she dreamwalked an intangible person who literally blew away with the wind. "Something isn't working quite right and she's having a hard time getting back to where she's supposed to be. Like there's a disconnect between her brain and body." Or something. Samara sits next to the fire that's starting to grow… at least the kindling is burning. "She'll be okay though. I mean, she'll find her way eventually."
Sam cranes her neck to peek at the purple fingernail. "It's a pretty colour. I always liked purple. My favourite is blue, but purple is like the best of two worlds. Semi-pink. Semi-blue."
Out with the hounds again. The barking in the woods is reminder of Sable's presence even in her absence, and it is the least of the noise that marks it. When inside, with her guitar finally returned to her, music is almost constant, and it's a blessed thing Sable's actually pretty good, otherwise it would be about ten times more maddening. As it is, depending on how much you like alt. country and rock, it may still drive you a bit up a tree.
So maybe barking is better. It had best be okay, because it's drawing closer, soon audible alongside human exclamations. "Come on! Le's get 'im! I saw 'im, he went this way! Get 'im! Get 'im!" Words maybe alarming, if not for the audibleness of its speaker's wide, crooked grin. Over snowy banks and across icy patches, Sable bounds with her canine companions, AK-47 slung over one shoulder, shepherding the critters back towards the clearing.
Giving her thumb a little wiggle, Koshka nods. "Blue's a good color. I like purple more, but if I had to pick a second I think it'd be blue." Putting the cap back onto the polish, the teen looks up at Sami. "So is she kinda like you then? Like she's… a reflection, for lack of a better word. Only people can actually see her she's just asleep."
Koshka sticks her hand out near the fire, what little of it that's beginning to catch hold, or that was her intent until the sounds come up. She'd ignored the approach of barking, a week or so now around the dogs has her not really hearing them much anymore. But Sable's voice she notes once it's noteable. "What other colors should I do," she continues with a glance in Sable's general direction.
Out of the collection of nail polishes, Samara chooses a royal blue colour to paint her thumbnail. The bottle is given a good shake and then the cap is unscrewed carefully, tightly balanced in Sam's hand as she does so. "She's similar in a way. It's like she's dead but not. You see, people see her in their dreams. Which is kind of poetic if you think about it. 'When will I see you?' 'In your dreams~'" Her grin grows as she applies a thin coat of polish to her nail.
Unlike Koshka, the dogs don't yield a familiar feeling. In fact, the sound of barking is met with tension in Sam's neck, shoulders, and arms. Her eyes flit over to where the sound originated as her chin lifts to peek at the incoming person. The gun earns widened eyes and a gaped mouth, but Koshka's obvious lack of concern is at least somewhat steadying. "R-r-r-red…" she stammers, the r's almost sounding like she's purposely rolling them. She's not.
Yellow eyed and red cheeked, the diminutive musician scampers into the clearing. She looks to be in good spirits, as she often does, returning from a run with the dogs. Misty and Jupiter caper up to the PEOPLE by the firepit, drawing Sable's own attention immediately to the two young woman at the fire's side. Slowing down to a saunter, catching her breath, Sable hooks a thumb into the strap holding the gun to her shoulder. "Y'all will catch yer death out here, Jesus," she says, smile broad, "Kosh, I bet yer responsible f'r this, ain'tcha? I knew there was trouble in y'. Jus' knew it." Her gaze appraises Samara. She was told about the girl, but proper introductions haven't yet been made. "Hon, y'all are vouched for, but stand on up, lemme get a look at y'. Wanna know whatall I'm dealin' with, now yer squattin' in my den."
A slightly concerned look is turned on Sami as she becomes.. well frightened of the new arrivals. Sable, for all that matters to the teen, could be walking around with umbrella rather than a rifle. And never mind the dogs. "You alright—-" And then there's dogs.
Koshka laughs and reaches out to push the dogs back, or distract them from completely terrorizing Samara. "Hi, Sable," she chuckles and rolls her eyes at the woman's assumptions. "Yeah, trouble just likes to follow me everywhere. Better watch out."
For all of her skittery tendencies, Samara recovers quickly enough. She springs forward and casts a slightly wary glance to the dogs. "Sorry, it's been a long time since I've…" been around an animal that she could touch. Although monkeys could sense her presence. With a broad dimpled grin, she actually extends her hand out to the safehouse operator, "I'm Sami. Actually I'm Samara, but since that's three syllables and takes a long time to say people call me Sami. Or Sam if they're really lazy." She presses her lips together and manages a still present smile. "It's nice to meet you! And it really isn't a big deal in the cold with the fire like we're staying warmish. And we'll have cocoa because it's better than anything else."
Jupiter seems to sense Samara's misgivings, and refrains from full on pounce and lick. Misty is not so restrained, and Sable has to gives a short bark of reprimand. "Off, mutt! Fuckin' manners!" is said with a glare that gets Misty to back off. Sable's much better with pack discipline than other kinds of discipline. Animal hierarchy she understands.
"Don't mind them, they're jus' excited t' see someone newish, eh?" Sable says, almost apologetically, as if the dogs were solely her responsibility. "I'm excited too, honest. 'specially 'bout havin' someone 's easy on th' eyes 's yerself 'round," this latter is delivered with lightness that might make it come off as harmless and charming. Hopefully. "I'm Sable, by th' by. In absence 'f anyone else wiser 'r better, I take care 'f this here place, so, like, welcome 'n' all that," she lowers into a bow, "a pleasure t' meet y' proper-like, Samara-called-Sami-called-Sam."
Yellow eyes dart over to Koshka. "Y'all gonna go through that cocoa by weeks end, y' keep tossin' it back like this," she grins, "glad y' found somethin' y' care for."
With a roll of her eyes, Koshka stands. "Like the coffee we're almost out of," she counters, good natured and teasing if a little sarcastic. Speaking of which, she heads for the front door before it's suggested, to produce a mug complete with the vile black grounds. There's enough water for three mugs. "Back in a minute," she calls over her shoulder before entering the cottage.
"Ahhh!" Samara raises her hands as the dog attacks her, surrendering to it's obviously more present power. "Sorry! I… I actually like dogs, it's just.." she carefully reaches out to scratch the dog's ear, very carefully, and very cautiously. "…it's been awhile. That's all. I'll get used to it." The other side of her smile rises to meet the first.
The words do seem harmless and charming to Sami, "Thanks! It's nice to visit some people. I didn't do much visiting for like a very long while!" Everything about her face is expressive, accentuating her full meaning as her eyes widen and her smile broadens. "NIce to meet you Sable! It's a neat place you have here, and it's great knowing how connected everyone is! I think it's important we look out for each other and stuff!" She hmmms a little, "That's really pretty name. Sable. Sable. Saaaaable." After trying it out a few times she nods firmly, yes, she's right about this one.
"And the cocoa is great. I wouldn't mind bringing more next time if you need it! I just wanted to bring some things for Koshka to do…"
Never one to hide her feelings with any effectiveness, Sable finds one brow slowly elevating as Samara is… sort of weird. Which Sable can get behind, which fact is evidenced by the maintenance of her own smile. "Ain't you a goddamn Saturday afternoon special," she says, with sly good humor. Her eyes flick down to the nail polish, then quickly swing up into a roll. "Chicks…" she says, addressing the heavens. Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.
Misty is very glad that Samara is willing to overcome her reservations and love her, and her fuzzy butt plants itself firmly on the ground, puppyish self leaning into the scratch. More? Please? Jupiter, on the other hand, follows Koshka, cantering through the door as soon as the teen opens it.
"Whatall kept y' from visitin'?" Sable inquires, hunkering down next to the fire as well and warming her hands, "what's yer tale, hon? 'round a fire, it's only proper y' tell me how it is y' came t' be here. Everyone's got a story, come this far, t' this place."
After a pause inside to scritch Jupiter, and check again on the fire in the hearth, Koshka sets to the kitchen to put together a mug of coffee. Lucky it doesn't take too long, a couple of scoops of grounds added to a clean mug, and she's heading out again. Once again the door is pulled shut tightly behind her to keep the heat in, and the youth crosses around the corner bearing the mug. "Just need the water to heat up now," she states.
One person's weird is another person's blessed. Simple things in life give her joy now. "I… I kind of… well my ability kicked in with the explosion four years ago." Her gaze turns upwards at the sky, "I thought I died. So did everyone else." Sami shoves her hands into her pockets, wondering where she left her mittens now. "I mean… they couldn't see me and everyone else in the vicinity died— aside from my best friend." She shrugs a little. "But I could be seen in like mirrors and stuff so… Rue and I— Rue's my best friend— we made a bucket list for me so I could cross over."
"With my ability, when I was invisible, I'd wake up random places. Like, I'd blow away." Her eyebrows furrow a little, "This one time I blew to this lake. And I met Brian. He couldn't hear me, but he could see my reflection in the water. And he didn't believe I was dead even though everyone else did." She shrugs a little, "Turns out he was right."
"Holy shit," Sable says, clearly impressed by the story. She eyes Samara like she's something else and new entirely, fingers curling and uncurling in the fire's heat. "Thass a goddamn story t' beat all. That's a ballad at least," she flashes a smile, "see, I'm in a band. I'm an artist, 'n' a tale like that… shit… I'd love t' weave it int' song if y'd be willin' t' lend me th' tale f'r such a use. Might wanna take some liberties, 'n' 'course won't mention y'all by name 'nless y'd like, but…"
The offer is cut short by Koshka's reappearance. Sable smiles wide. "Yer too sweet, hon. Thanks." The musician rises to take the mug. "Honest, though, I should probably see 'bout jus' what we need 'n' what we got. Write that shit up, so's we don't run short 'r long on anythin'," she tips an invisible hat to Samara, "Samara Samsara, babe, y'all jus' think on what I said, arright? I feel a spark 'f inspiration, but I need y'all's permission t' let it catch 'n' build a blaze."
As Sable heads towards the main structure of the Garden, she pauses to pinch Koshka's cheek. "Y'all be good," she teases, before sidling through the door, slapping her thigh to summon Misty to follow.
a need but it would be nice to have. She shakes her head after the door is closed, rubbing a hand over the pinched cheek. "And that's the woman they left in charge of me," the teen chuckles with a glance toward Sami.
"I should've warned you about the dogs. Didn't think about it 'cause they're always around." The youth drops back to the ground beside Sam and her bag of things, though she begins pawing through the nail polishes again.
Sable's words are carefully considered, "I will think on it! Take it easy!" And with that the safehouse operator is gone. To Koshka she gives a flippant wave, "Ehn, don't worry about it. Honestly, I like dogs, it's just looooong time. I would really like to have a dog again someday." When she's more stable again.
"It seems like a good place for you here. Except for the quiet." She shoots Koshka a bright flash of teeth. 'How long do you think you'll be here? I realize it's like super safe and great place to be that way, but you should do like normal teenaged things too. Like school. Or something."
The red is found, and this color is added to the pointer fingernail. Koshka holds her hand out to the fire, now more eagerly consuming the wood. "Don't know. It's not permanent, I guess I could leave if I wanted to." Not that she's been told she could leave, it's never been brought actually. Besides, where would she go if she did leave?
"It's… alright here," the teen amends. "I'm kind of feeling restless about being out here… At least it's warm and there's food and a place to sleep. You know?"
Like Koshka, Sami paints her next fingernail in quick succession. Her hands aren't as steady as they once were, but the polish goes on easy enough, even if it is somewhat uneven. "That's fair," Sami nods as she finishes painting both hands. "While I should probably ask Brian first— " her lips quirk upwards "— when you're ready… if you wanted… you could probably come stay with us. I just… need to kind of ask Brian first. Or try to make him think it's his idea. I know my mom always used to do that to my dad…"
She shrugs a little. It's a thought, "But if you'd like to stay closer to the city or something I can maybe arrange something with him…"
Koshka doesn't look up right away. In fact, she feigns an intense interest on the selection of paints. That's… an interesting offer. That green, from earlier, is chosen. A place to stay in town? Possibly some measure of normality. The little jar is opened and the next finger in line is given a fine coat of color. Are there strings attached? Sometimes those are dangerous.
"After things are settled here," Koshka says carefully, sealing the jar of green again. "I'm… I need to make sure I can go first. With Sable and everything."
The lack of response doesn't phase (haha) Sam. She focuses on her fingernail as Koshka considers the offer. "Hey, It's just an offer. And it doesn't expire," Samara shoots her a soft smile. "And I think we're pretty fun. Even if neither of us can cook!" At this she nods firmly while she uses a while nail polish to draw three small circles on her thumb for a snowman.
"And I still need make sure with Brian, but yes. This is entirely your decision. We just give opportunities. And maybe you want a little of both," Sam shrugs again while she leans closer to the fire holding out her fingernails to dry in its heat.
No need to rush into things. She doesn't really know Samara and has only seen Brian a couple of times. Still, a place to sleep that isn't in No-Man's Land… Koshka grins slightly and nods. "I can't cook, either. Not well, but you can usually still eat it." Usually. She picks out two more colors, a blue and a pink, and finishes off her first hand.
"You think Brian would agree," Koshka asks as she holds her hand out to the flames. "He kinda… thinks I've got a chip on my shoulder and never grins." Well, she made the effort to prove that theory wrong, but who knows what he thinks now. "I'm not. I mean, when he met me maybe but that wasn't a good day."
"Just consider yourself warned. Brian makes a really good spaghetti and I pretend I can make brinner." She actually snickers now, "When I made it last it was virtually inedible." She cants her head to watch Koshka, "I think he would agree if you were interested. He's… got a way about him. He's good people. Like actually. Just recognize you're responsible to everyone in the house just as they're responsible to you." Samara grins broadly as she finishes off her snowman with a black hat and a red scarf.
"What happened that day when you met? Is that why you're here?"
"Nothing happened that day," Koshka answers. And that may have been part of the problem. She pulls her hand back from the heat and checks over her nails. "I got into a scuffle the day before, wound up in the hospital. Someone offered help getting out, and the next night Brian showed up and brought me here." And that's the abridged version.
Satisfied with her first hand, Koshka begins on the second, starting again with the purple. "I was kinda giving people the silent treatment. And when he showed up he said he was Doctor Cox." Plus she kind of glowered at him. But in her defense, she'd been glowering at everyone. "It was just a bad day."
With a content sigh, Sami nods, "That's okay. We all have bad days. Believe me, I've had a number of bad days. Don't worry," she wiggles her fingers mystically like she intends to cast a spell to remove the curse of the bad day. "I think he's more understanding than he lets on. But don't tell him I told you."
Samara shrugs as she tries to draw a white snowflake on her opposite thumb. With a relaxed smile she hmmms. "Well all I can say is I hope this day is better than that one. I guess that's all we can hope for. Our days to get better."