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| Scene Title | Ghost Monster Dragon |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | A morning at Bay House is full. |
| Date | February 20, 2011 |
Light creeps through the cracks illuminating the most cavernous of dark places.
Seeping through the light burning sensation drives the blackness away.
Brian's eyes open.
A light wind slaps crisply against his face. The first greeting of the waking world to the new arrival. His eyes roll for a moment, sleepily searching for some familiar element to call for a label to this place. One palm scrubs deeply at his eye as his other hand gives a week attempt to push himself up. The attempt fails, his back landing back on the too-soft mattress below him. Blue gray eyes swing around his own body, the periwinkle blue blanket pushed off his stomach.
Pulling out his legs clad in wolf spotted pyjamas, his feet touch the cold ground below the bed. An instant chill running up his body. The blanket is grabbed almost immediately as he attempts to eskimo himself inside the blanket. It's about then that his mind begins to catch up with the link of the already awake copies of himself. A light yawn runs from his mouth as he looks at the other side of the bed.
Empty.
Pushing out into the frigid world outside of his cozy blanket swathed world. Stepping away from the mattress laying directly on the ground Brian makes his way to the window that remains open. The overgrowth and waist high weeds slap against the faded white gate outside the Jamaica Bay house. A little frost speckled on the grassy ground, the cold air all but rushing into the master bedroom. Arm hesitantly vacating his blanket sanctuary, his hand touches the window, going to close it sternly. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he takes a few wandering steps towards the bed. Staring at it. Did she ever come to bed?
Her side of the bed doesn't have any telltale signs of having been slept in. With the mattress's invariable softness, resting bodies leave their imprint, but there's no such hollow in its form. It's not warm. And there's no one in it now. If Sam had come to bed, she'd gotten up hours ago, left amongst a whirlwind of thought within a restless mind.
The squeak of the floor in the kitchen, however, indicate someone is up and at 'em.
With another squeak, the kitchen occupant hoists herself onto the countertop, mini container of yogurt in hand as she spoons one of the few things that doesn't make her stomach turn into her mouth. Sam's skin is pale, even more so than usual, and fatigued circles line her eyes. Dressed in yesterday's clothes (plus a coat and a toque— from who knows where) the answer to the question as to whether she came to bed becomes nearly obvious. If she slept at all, it's difficult to tell, but chances seem likely it wasn't in bed.
The yogurt is set on the counter, spoon still inside, as she rests a hand flat across her midsection, "You don't think I'm a bad mom, do you?" There's no one else there, not obviously so. She sighs quietly as she speaks to her normal-looking stomach. To the average onlooker she might seem crazy.
Stepping out of the bedroom, Brian leans against the doorway of the Master Bedroom. Or at least that's what it's called. More like the Master hovel. Despite the current dismal state of the room, it was home at least for last night. Clutching the blanket around him, Brian peers tiredly into the kitchen. At the young woman with the yogurt on the counter. Pressing himself into the doorway, Winters watches her quietly for a long moment. A slow smile crawls up his lips as she starts to speak with their future child.
Leaning out of the doorway, Brian stifles a yawn as he pads towards her. Train of his blanket grazing across the ground as Brian skates across the kitchen. Pausing his eyes lid downward some, another long yawn pulls itself out of his lips. He cocks his head at her with a quiet smile.
"What did it say?"
The question snaps Sam's head back at attention as her lips press together tightly whitening the skin under the pressure. Her arms hug around her body as she tries to force a weak smile, but it melts, there's no use faking strength or optimism. Her head cants, mirroring his own while her somewhat reddened and slightly puff eyes seek his. Ordinarily she'd be chattering by now, but she's rendered herself semi-speechless having spent long hours chatting at their unborn child. It was almost like the old days when Rue wasn't around to chatter at, except there's someone around to listen this time.
"It likes yogurt so today I'm a good mom." Her eyes narrow a little. "Also.. That you cheated." Beat. "Cheater. You're not that sneaky." A single finger lifts to waggle slightly.
"Are you mad at me?" Brian asks bluntly, holding the blanket around himself tightly. Wandering towards the counter, he half turns so that his back is leaning against it. One hand pops out of the periwinkle blue, rising up. A single finger dips into Samara's yogurt, bringing it back to stick into his mouth. He smiles weakly up at her. And then shrugs a little.
Her eyebrows knit together. "I'm not un-mad." But most of the mad has faded. Most. "What happened to not telling anyone yet?" Sam's face scrunches further as she actually frowns. Her arms tighten around her body, hugging herself a little tighter, "I don't get it. Why even get your friend to ask me if you were going to sabotage it?" There's another pause. "And I'm having a hard enough time believing I'm capable of this whole mom thing without anyone else doubting me. I can't.. " deflated, her shoulders sink somewhat.
Pushing himself up onto the counter, he gives a little shrug. Brian's hands hang limply into his lap. "Colette doesn't know anyone else we know.. to tell. Well she does. But I don't think she'll say anything." He hangs his head some when she talks. "Because.. eventually you would have found out. And you would have asked to be a part of it. And I wouldn't have been able to dissuade you." Winters explains matter-of-factly. There's no emotion to it, just cold truth. "And if we don't do it soon.. She would have known anyways."
Brian frowns lightly over at her.
"I want you to be able to help." He murmurs quietly. "Maybe there will be some way you can help without actually like.. Going in right? You can get us in position or something? Just.." His head hangs, hands waving impotently in his lap. Apparently he has nothing else to add.
Her head turns to face him, at least she's not avoiding eye contact although it's more difficult to find it at this angle. Sam let's out a light sigh. "I did good with Amid. I did. I know I did." Even with the hand shaped burns on her arm and leg. "And I can get in places other people can't. I can my way easier than most. I don't even think about it anymore. Not really. Like walking. I just do it." Without thinking.
With another sigh, halfway between a sigh and a yawn her head shakes. "I'm okay, Bri. I'm strong. And I can't just let people do something like this without— " She frowns slightly, "I can't just sit on my hands for… " she has no idea how much longer, "I just can't. Our lives dictate that I don't. And i love you and I love our baby, but doing nothing… how can I even— " her face retreats into her hands. "— it's for them. All of them. They shouldn't have to lose what they care about… what if we have to leave here too? We have a built in getaway, but then what? It's not enough to wait and hope…"
Brian places his elbows on his knees, chin lowering down into his hands. He lets out a long sigh. "I get all that Sam. You're one of the bravest people I know but.." A long breath is let out. "You're pregnant. You're going to have a giant belly. You're not going to be able to move like a normal person. You get sick when you eat… You'll be hormonal.." He straightens back up, hands dropping down.
Turning his head some, he stares at her for a long moment. "Can we reach a compromise? Like.. I know you feel like you have to help. But there's got to be a little give and take. Can we both recognize that you're not fit to be in the thick of the fray? Like.. You can still be a part of things. But running through walls where there's… Just come on. Please?"
"I don't always get sick," the protest is nearly prideful like some declared triumph over food. "The yogurt is good~" and figuratively speaking, for Sami, the yogurt cup is half-full. Her cheeks flush slightly, a blush that seems brighter against the white of her skin. "I know you probably won't believe me but I actually don't want to worry you more. With the kids sick and Koshka stealing and the world coming apart at the seams, I want to make things easier for you not the opposite." It's not exactly an agreement, but it's truth just the same. "But I'm handier than most. Getting in and getting out are two things I can do. Like playing Houdini as a kid."
She hops off the counter and plucks her yogurt from it's spot again, using the spoon to scrape the sides of the container, getting as much of the viscous near-fluid from the edges. But she doesn't spoon it into her mouth, instead, she rests the spoon in the container and returns it to the counter. "I love you."
"I know." Brian murmurs. "I know you're good, and you're getting better. And you could be a big help. But.. crazy shit happens you know. It could be so easy for something to go wrong and everyone there die. You know? And I would be the only one to survive." He falls silent, scooting towards the edge of the counter. "I don't want to survive in a world that you're not in." He murmurs quietly, slinking from the counter to the ground.
Hands coming forward they go to rest on her waist. Pulling her forward, he leans in to plant a brief kiss against her lips. "I love you too. A lot."
When his hands find her waist, Sami's hands wrap around his neck, an easy position, easily found, comfortably acquired. The kiss is returned and followed up by another that lingers longer than the first. She pulls back and lifts her chin to gaze up at him. "I have faith in you." Her fingertips caress lightly against his face, "It'll turn out. I know it's naive and ridiculous and poor planning and completely unwarranted, but it'll turn out." Somehow.
"Marry me?" she asks quietly as her cheeks redden further.
A broad grin curls up his lips. "Okay." He answers dumbly, head sagging forward so that their foreheads clunk together. Hands remaining on her hips, he lets out a slow breath. "I have faith in you too." He smiles gently before letting his hands drop. "It'll all turn out fine." Brian agrees, taking a step to the side. Grabbing the blanket up off the counter top he goes to wrap himself back up in it. "You should go to bed." He gives a little nod. "A whole night.. No good."
"I'm not tired," Sam insists through a yawn as both of her arms stretch into the air and then extend out from her sides before dropping down. "And I wasn't really up all night…" at this point she twists on her heel to retrieve her yogurt from the counter. She shovels the last spoonful of yogurt into her mouth and swallows.
"Cold?" she teases, of course, it's easy to be warm dressed in a coat and toque inside. But there is still that distinct chill in the air. "Maybe the window should be closed when you sl— " The suggestion is interrupted as King Bob (the mighty) leaps from the top of the fridge (who knew the cat was up there) to chase a mouse across the floor, causing Sam to leap back onto the counter with a semi-loud shriek that is only muffled when she claps both hands over her lips.
"You're going to wake up everyone." He gives a little frown, glaring over at Samara for a small moment. "Yeah I forgot to close the window. The kids have space heaters, they should be fine." Winters lets out a little laugh as he watches the cat chase the mouse across the kitchen floor. Placing his hand on the counter, Brian leans into it, going to lay his head on Samara's lap.
"We're gonna need to put in a lot of work this week." He lets out a light sigh, lowering his head. "The kids aren't doing so good." Brian frowns lightly. "The ones on the island."
No mouse will run over Sami's feet, sitting on the counter has that happy side effect. "It's not on purpose!" she whispers emphatically to counteract the power of her former shriek, "I am terrified of rodents." Her fingers find Brian's curls as he lays his head on her lap. She leans down to press her lips against his temple.
The notion of the kids on the island has Sam frowning in turn. She has little she can say or do to make that better. She knows little. Next to nothing. "I'm sorry, babe." The frown deepens while her head tilts. "Just.. have faith?" it's more a question than a solution. When there's little to hold on to and little to be done, a person clings to all that remains, "Pray, I guess.. if you pray.."
In the hallway, the squeak of the trap door is indiscernible from the kitchen, given the commotion and ruckus of a cat and a mouse and a squealing Samara. A small pale and grimy face peers out with pale blue eyes to check if the coast is clear, tiny hands holding the door above head. Those pale eyes peer in the direction of the kitchen, listening and waiting.
The keeper of the cat had been cleaning rather than sleeping, out of sight but hard at work. Koshka made sure she was up early in effort to set things aright and reclaim those better habits. She'd found supplies and picked a room at random to scrub and sweep, working off the ancient grime and cobwebs to make one more room more habitable. It may only be day one since she'd been brought here to serve time, but it's not too soon to get points for good behavior.
The scream from down the hall pulls Koshka from her thoughts, a hand with a filthy rag pausing on a wall as she listens hard for further sounds. Her cleaning efforts begin again only to stop all together once more, the work abandoned as she pokes her head into the hallway. Just in time to see the adolescent cat dart past. "…Bet she tried to phase with him again," the teenager mutters, seeing no signs of mouse. With a shake of her head, she leaves the room and heads for the kitchen.
Brian picks his head up from Samara's lap, just staring up at her for a long moment. His breaths are long before he goes to bury his face in her legs once again, hands coming up over his head. He gives the cat no attention and has no chance of spotting the child in the trapdoor. However…
Completely silent footsteps fall on the hallway as the trap door is approached. Complete silence, a tiny ninja peers down at the child doing his own spying from the trapdoor. Crouching low Lance leans forward. Silent hands grasping the top of the trapdoor before suddenly flinging it open. Approaching the other child from behind, only now does his field of inaudibility break.
"A-HA!" Though Lance isn't really sure what he's going to do with the kid now. "Joe! I caught it!"
Like Brian, Sami is semi-distracted. She frowns and strokes his hair a little lighter. She bends at the waist to plant a light kiss on his head again. "I love you," she whispers. "I'm sorry. Again. Sorry." The apology isn't just for the sick kids themselves, but also for her lack of supportive words. It's easy to fail.
Her head raises, catching Koshka in her gaze, at Lance's voice. "Joe? Did you catch the mouse— " she cranes her neck to peek down the hall where the voice came, all-the-while remaining seated with Brian's head on her lap. "Because I'm pretty sure Evil King Bob had his heart set on it… he secretly want— " wait. Is Lance looking at the trap door?
The squeak that comes this time is not from the mouse but from the child who stares for a long moment with wide eyes at the two boys before eyes eyes narrow. "I am not an it!" the child says.
The hands let go of the door and the figure disappears down into the tunnel, but not before Lance suddenly backs off, his own blue eyes wide as he grips Joe, pushing the other boy in front of him. "What if it's a ghost?"
Joe is also backing up, away from the trapdoor. "G-ghosts aren't real. Samara thought she was one, but that's just because she was st-stuck." He swallows. "I think, anyway, that there's no real ghosts." Another beat. "Maybe."
A sigh is let out, along with a shake of her head, as Koshka looks from Samara to Brain. "Never mind," she says quietly, more to herself really, arms folding across her chest. As she turns to go back to work, her gaze falls on Lance and Joe, and the trap door. "Careful it doesn't eat either of you," she warns. "Might be that dragon that wanders the city tunnels. I met him once and he likes to eat little kids."
Joe had come racing from the room ready to dive into a headlong tackle at the stowaaway child who is not an it. But he stops dead in his tracks, chewing down on his lip. Normally fearless, Joe peers at the trapdoor hesitantly. He glances over to Lance then back at the trapdoor. He simply pauses.
Lance has gone completely quiet since this whole ghost business. And not only talking. His fingers and feet make no sound at all as he stares a the trapdoor. Then Koshka is talking and has Joe turning rapidly.
"Dragon?!"
Shaking his head, Brian goes to plant a kiss on Samara's forehead. "You want to check on them? I'll start some food."
The kiss on her forehead lids Sami's eyes. Carefully she slides off the counter and steps to where the kidlets are gathered around the trap door. Having managed to catch bits of the conversation from his perch on the counter, she shoots the boys a lopsided, "Don't worry guys, there's no such thing as ghosts— I should know." But there was a resident here before they came, not that she'll be the one to mention it to the kids. "But you saw something?" even if it's a game, she's not above playing along. Carefully, she slides down to a kneel just aside from the door.
She forms a knuckled fist and raps gently on the wood. Shave and a haircut— the rhythm is distinct, known and expects the customary two knock response.
Instead of the two bits knock, a fierce "Find your own place!" is delivered, the voice far enough away to suggest it's not right up close to the trap door.
"And I am too a ghost. I will haunt you if you stay here." There's a pause and the voice is more distant, moving away, tinged with the echo of the tunnels below. "So go away!"
Lance's eyes narrow a little, and he moves to lift the trapdoor once again, suddenly braver. "If he's a ghost, why does he need to come through a trapdoor?" he asks, suddenly logical and rational. "And he's not even a ghost like Samara, 'cause she can just phase."
"Dragon," Koshka echoes solemnly, nodding at Joe. "Made the air around really cold. Cold enough to make your—" She trails off when Samara moves toward the trap door, guilt etching itself anew. "…Never mind," the girl sighs. Her eyes flick toward the kitchen then down the hall, feet following to carry her toward the room she'd left from.
"Not a ghost." Joe delivers, looking over to Lance.
Lance gives a solid nod in return. "Not a ghost." The other boy agrees soundly. When Samara delivers the customary knock and there's no response, Lance feels compelled to give the last little thump-thump in response. The two nod to Samara before flinging the trapdoor back open.
Joe peers over at Koshka, "Come see the dragon." The boy invites, waving his hand enticingly. Lance motions for Samara and Joe to go first. And Joe finally goes to lower himself down the stairs back into the cellar.
There's an easier smile as Sami's nods, "No ghosts." The the boys open the trapdoor, as the adult in the group, she grimaces slightly. She really ought to be the one down there first. Not that she thinks this kid is dangerous, but… Her eyes clamp shut and she shifts through the floor, vanishing between the particles of the floor board. On the other side, her feet touch down and she turns to the tunnel without even thinking.
"Wait! Please! Are you hungry?!" she calls down the tunnel as she begins to follow the bunny trail. "We have food and I— er— Brian can cook! He's making breakfast, please!"
Down the long stretch of the tunnel, the tiny figure is barely visible, even tinier given the distance that ranges between it and the trio descending into the cellar. Footfalls echo in the narrow, stony space, diminishing in volume.
The child hesitates at the word hungry and turns back, pale face visible beneath a dark hood, but then it gives a shake of its head, scurrying out of the tunnel and into the world beyond.
With another look between Samara and the kitchen, Koshka shakes her head, declining the invitation to follow. She moves a little ways down the hall, out of line of sight from the kitchen but still near enough to see the happenings at the trap door.
Peering down the tunnel at where the boy disappeared the two boys frown. "We should set a trap." Lance offers. "We could set up food and put it—
"Under a box and then pull on the stick!"
Just like in the cartoons, Joe and Lance are practically clambering over each other to get down into the cellar. Stopping when they get to the ground, the pair look up for guidance from Samara. "He's going to steal our stuff!" Joe yells, pointing to the couch down in the cellar.
Sam sighs as the figure disappears. "No!" she objects quickly as she raises her hands. "No setting traps.. I think it needs friends.. not people who will freak it out more. I mean, think about it, did Brian set a trap to become your friend?" She shrugs slightly and glances at the couch. "And come on, it's a couch. It took three Brians to get that in here so…" Again she shrugs.
"What we can do is.. let's leave it something to eat maybe?" that might attract the mice. Awesome. And so she adds, "Something packaged. With a note. And maybe something else you think a new friend might like." Her chin lifts and she glances up at the ceiling, "I used to like bubbles. Do you guys blow bubbles anymore? Or is that something 'been there, done that?'"
Quietly, Koshka slips off to the space she's claimed for sleeping. It's a closely guarded secret how many treats and goodies she's got stashed away amongst her things, and those little treasures are never kept in the same place the next day. Various things are set aside, shirts and a jacket, her scarf, before coming up with a small package of chocolate frosted donuts and several candy bars.
Returning again to the trap door, Koshka spares a glance for the kitchen before dropping into the tunnels. Both Joe and Lance earn a candy bar, the teenager not even looking at Samara as she openly spoils the boys' meal. "Those two are for you," she tells them before holding out the rest of the small stash. "This is for your monster, to make friends."
Joe and Lance match glances. Bubbles. Screwing their brows up some, they both shake their heads slowly. "No bubbles." Lance announces quietly. "Something to play with. Something fun. Like a DS."
Joe immediately takes issue with this."I don't want to give him my DS."
Lance says nothing which probably mean he agrees with the sentiment. But the pair of boys are smiling brightly when awarded with candy. Lance stuffs it in his pocket, and Joe eats it almost immediately.
Lance takes the stash, lowering himself fully into the cellar. Moving towards the cellar he swings the treats by his knees. Laying down the stash of treats he takes a few steps back, peering into the darkness.
Maybe Sami should take issue with the morning spoiling pre-breakfast, but Koshka gets little more than an eyebrow quirk, nearly skeptical at the candy. The open candy bar actually has Sam sliding away a single step, but the offering for the monster friend earns a brighter smile, "Thanks Kosh. I hope it'll endear us to our newfound friend. And don't worry, you won't have to give up your DS. We just need to think of something that our monster friend might like."
Her lips twist to the side. "I wonder if our friend can read…" her hands move to her hips as she finally remembers she's wearing her coat and toque indoors. She tugs the hand from her head and leaves it with their little offering. "It's chilly outside…" and they took the scamp's home. She frowns slightly. "Maybe we should draw it a picture or write it a card.."
Koshka only shrugs, feigning indifference. She hadn't seen the dragon-ghost-monster, though she had seen the trap door open seemingly of its own accord. Still silent, she climbs up the ladder and returns to the main level of the house. Arms crossing again, she heads for the hall and her previous task of cleaning.
"A picture." Joe offers happily. "I'll draw a picture of him eating!"
Soundlessly Lance bounces away up the stairs. And disappears back into the rest of the house.
Joe is peering into the darkness before looking up at Samara. "Do you think he really is a monster?" Joe asks quietly, glancing up at Koshka. "Koshka, you need to be careful. If he's a dragon, he'll try to eat you first."
"No, I don't think he's monster," Sam reaches down to ruffle the boy's hair. "No reason to be afraid of him right now, okay?" She shoots him a toothy grin, "He's as much a monster as I was ever a ghost. Besides, Brian and I have seen him before. Kind of." She shrugs a little. "Shadows of him. I think he's a kid. And I think he needs friends. He was here alone and ran away from us." Her smile fades somewhat.
"I said he eats little kids," Koshka replies in an under-enthused tease. She glances back, giving Joe a small quirk of a grin before disappearing into the room. It's quiet in there for a moment, and then the light sound of cloth being rubbed against a wall picks up.
"You're pretty little." Joe tosses back. "I'm almost as tall as you. And I can't be eaten. You can." Joe folds his little arms over his chest, tilting his head to the side. Smiling up at Samara as she ruffle him, he stands a little closer to the young woman.
Lance reappears with his own personal pad of paper. Dancing down the stairs, his pencil is rapidly sketching on the pad. Soon a picture of a large face eating a cheeseburger is visible on the paper, Lance yanking it off and passing it off to Samara.
"The dragon-monster would hurt it's teeth or chip a tooth or something if it tried to eat you, wouldn't it?" Sam tosses back towards Joe with a smirk. "I wish I was like that. No fear eveeeeeeeeer. Except of being tickled." She grins a little broader as the picture is handed to her. "This is awesome! I bet our friend will like it. Maybe we should get him McDonald's sometime…" of course that would take knowing that the kid was around.
"Okay! We should.. go eat breakfast, even though you had candy.. because Brian has been hard at work. And I.. should.. sleep. Maybe." She cringes slightly. "Or not. There's a lot of work to be done.."
The sounds from where Koshka disappeared pause for a moment, footsteps telling of her crossing the room. However, the response is not spoken, but the gentle click of a door being closed.
