Keep the Faith


abby6_icon.gif delia2_icon.gif

Scene Title Keep the Faith
Synopsis Almost a month too late, Delia takes matters of rescuing her friend into her own hands.
Date June 23, 2011

In Dreams

"Robert no!"

Pink lips, with that freshly and roughly kissed kind of puffiness let the words fall from them. Blue eyes gazing up from behind blonde waves pinned back and falling loose down the back of the southern woman who's gazing up into the face of a man who's turning away from her ever so slowly. She reaches out, fingers curved, not quite making contact with the man, other arm held out and away from her body and the white sundress with it's ample decolletage - Not that Abigail Beauchamp really has much in the way of ample cleavage - Ruffled collar and wispy material that clings to her in the breeze. Around them grass grows tall, to the knee, bends with the breeze. Cicada's make their mating calls, a white house in the distance, tree's, forrests, the promise of a meandering but wide river within.

"I can't" He says, face turned down and away, shame in his expression, guilt. Two days growth along his jawline shot through with the same silver that graces his temple. "I'm not who you think I am Abigail. I'm a monster. You can't change me. You tried, but blood will always out. I'm sorry for what I did to you" Husky, shamed, Khaki's, button down shirt open at the collar, folded up at the wrists and untucked. "You know who I really am"

"Damn you Robert Caliban! Damn you to hell, I told you that I loved you no matter what and I don't care if you were John fancy pants Logan. I love you. I fell in love with you! I don't care if you're James Muldoon, or if you had only a penny to your name!" Her accent far deeper here, than in real life.

Fingertip brush across broad shoulders, molding, pressing her lithe body against the man she's pleading to, tears twinkling in the corner of her eyes as she grips his upper arms, as if that might keep him here.

"You're mine god damnit"

The golden grass ripples like waves in the cool breeze that flows over the lovers. Unseen, hands pluck open the buttons of the man's shirt until it satisfies all of her romantic fantasies. Invisible fingers ruffle through his hair, mussing it until Robert looks just like a man from the cover of a romance novel. Ha-cha-cha~

Abigail on the other hand, looks simply perfect aside from… Her breast swell like they've been pumped up by an air compressor, ripping the fabric that ovverlays them until it's just tatters and cleavage held up by two flimsy ribbons. Suddenly Robert grabs Abigail in an embrace and dips her low, letting the tips of the blades of grass tickle her bare back.

Now the scene is perfect.

Forgetting her reason for being here, Delia settles on an overhanging branch and produces a small bag of popcorn.

Knee's bend, lips meet, breasts heave and press to Roberts chest and there's a sincere threat i the possibility of real honest to go clothes shedding right here in the field as tongues tangle in a style so very much like the any number of b-rated porn sold in book stores everywhere. His hand grasps her thigh posessivly, fingers digging in just shy of promising to leave bruises, shifting that leg up to wind it over his hip, balance on one leg in his carnal embrace.

A red Cardinal alights on the branch beside Delia staring at her, but pays no heed to the scene unfolding. Just to the dreamweaver who's decided to get a little mental skinemax.

But kiss are interrupted, the sound of a warning shot in the distance and the lovers break their kiss, straightening, Robert clasping her tightly to him as skirts fall, bosoms threaten to spill with her gasp of shock and horror. Federales, coming, riding horses black as night and shiney gold badges on their chest proclaiming them to be gov'mint folks.

"Robert!" Breathless shock, worry, surprise. "How did they find me!"

"I don't know Abigail, but you better run, I'll hold them off so that you can escape my love" He slides his body till he between her and the horses off in the distance, turning to look over his shoulder to the fragile blonde, blue eyes glistening still. "Run my love, run, save yourself. Find a place to hide. I'll come for you!"

"I can't Robert! They'll hurt you! They'll kill you and I can't live without you!"

"They'll kill you if you stay here Abigail. I need to know that you're alive. That you're waiting for the day when I can come and sweep you off your feet and bring you home!"

Figuring that the bird is eying the popcorn in her hand and not the young woman herself, Delia holds it out in offerance. With a small fistful of the treat of her own, she pops a few kernels into her mouth and turns her head toward the shots fired. Romance and action, perhaps she should visit more often rather than relying on late night movies for entertainment.

"Don't do it Abby," the dreamwalker whispers encouragingly. Leaning forward on her branch, she chews on another few pieces of popcorn. "Stand by your man! Like that country singer, come on, come on…"

But she slips.

With a shrill scream, Delia flails in the air before landing on her back in the tall grass. Everything is silent for a little too long, as though the dreamwalker has left the scene but the cardinal can see her from its perch. She stares up at it, unspeaking, studying it through narrowed eyes.

"Abby," she ekes, "I need your help."

Red flutters down to land on Delia's chest before giving out a shrill call reminiscent of it's form, shifting from being a solid cardinal, to a shadow of what it was. Gunfire fades off into the distance, green grass slinking away till it's a more comfortable, manageable height and that white house in the distance, a farm house with barn, swingset, river gurgling within the forest not far from Delia shifts and fades into view.

A trick taught to the blonde long ago.

The same blonde who's chest no longer looks like it might spill forth like the Niagra and is leaning over the dream manipulator, peering down and with raised brows. "Afraid of the phone?" She offers her hand to help Delia up, the other swatting through the bird, making it disperse into little inky tendrils till it's gone.

"Truthfully? Yes… I can't be traced or listened to this way." Not one for mincing words in this form, Delia is well aware of how short her time might be. Accepting the hand, she dreamwalker pulls herself to a stand and then lets go quickly.

She's dressed as she always is in this state, white sundress with eyelet lace at the bottom hem. Her pearlescent spaghetti straps look a little worn, just as they are in real life. "They came to the house… they took Tania."

Twins, almost. In clothing. Abby lets go once Delia's upright, letting the red head dust herself off. "Maybe you might knock next time. You never know what you might see?" Is there a way to knock? Abby doesn't really know, it's not like Hokuto ever knocked. Or Logan when he was on Hokuto's errand, gallivanting around on his unicorn.

But someone took Tania, Timmy is down a well and Lassie is barking. Well no, somewhere, Rhett is barking. The both of them know the sound of that particular ruff ruff. "Who took her?" Concern darkening Abby's brow and around them, Louisiana sun takes a decidedly quickly overcast tone, washing out the world around them just a little.

"They did."

Behind Delia a shadow looms tall over her, stretching its fingers out like claws in an attempt to grab at her. The dreamwalker shrinks instinctively and curls in on herself, trying to dodge the spectral hands. «"What are they to you, that they abandon you here with me?"» The Russian accented voice seems to frighten the redhead much more than it should, especially here.

"They took Tania, they put an anklet on me. I can't go find her without them knowing."

Abby's never met Valentin, never come across Heller. Russian accents to her, belong to people far different than the ruggedly handsome man that the voice belongs to, and while Delia may shrink away, this is Abigail's playground, haven created to protect her and anyone who gets shunted here, from things like this. A piercing shriek and a shadow dive bombs at Delia's vengeful specter, Abby snarls at it and placing herself between Delia and the shadow, thrusts a hand up as if it could shield the two of them.

"Who's they Delia.She's not been answering the phone. No ones been answering. I'm with Francois right now, he's sick with the Flu" The really bad one. "We're taking turns watching over him. But if you tell me who, I can let others know, and we can see what we can do"

"I can't remember who, just that voice. I woke up on the floor… the door was open." The brick house spins up all around them, just as it was the night Tania was taken. A ghostly vision of a weakened Delia, bruise freshly placed upon her jawline and thin trickle of blood from a puncture on her neck, picks herself up off the floor. She races out of view and then back in again, panicked with a wild look in her eye.

She disappears into the dreamwalker and then pulls out of her form on the other side, pulling a heavy sofa behind her. Piece by piece, all of the sticks of furniture in the living room are piled in front of the door. All but a standing harp which is left alone.

"It was the soldiers, when I talked to her, she said it was soldiers." Delia's lips press together into a sad curve downward and she risks a defiant glance at the retreating shadow. "They're asking her what she knows and she's trying not to tell them."

"Heller, maybe. He's been trying to find us." She doesn't say that he has likely been talking with Caliban in an effort to find Abby. "How long ago was this?" Abby meanders around, watching Delia scramble, attempt to secure the home but knows full well that in the wake of a break in, of a kidnapping, no place ever quite feels secure unless you move, or spend thousands of dollars to make it nigh impenetrable. "Does Sasha know?" Her voice soft, respectful of the situation, unblinking really that she's been yanked from her haven into this surroundings, this memory of Delia's. "This was in Eltingville right?"

"Almost a month ago, they're not letting her sleep very much so I can't find her unless I sleep all the time. I've been worried about Nick too… and…" The redhead just lifts one shoulder helplessly, letting it drop and shaking her head. Then Delia turns her eyes toward Abby and shakes her head, "Sasha left that night, I haven't seen much of him since then. I think he's been looking for her too."

So much on Abby's mind, messages to deliver to the council. "I'll toss my phone, just in case. But she doesn't know much. She knows about me but…" How much does Tanya know? Possibly just enough. "I'll let the council know, so they can be prepared" It goes unspoken that she'll do what she can to help, that shadow bird flitting up to land on her shoulder. seemingly solid and yet not.

"Please help her, Abby," Delia sounds hopeless, as though realizing exactly everything that she can't do to save their mutual friend. "I'm sorry… I just don't want them to make her sick. She said they have a vaccine for the flu, that they'll give it to her if she tells them. She's trying to be strong but she's scared." They both know the young girl won't survive long if she contracts the virus.

Straightening to her full height, she glances toward the horizon as the walls around them shrink and crumble to nothing, leaving Abby's dreamscape as it once was. The green Louisiana countryside and white clapboard house unscathed by the memory of the ghetto. "Mister Luka and I are looking but with only the two of us, I don't know how we'll get her out even if we found her."

Delia's going, Abby nods, blonde hair bobbing in the breeze that picks up. "I'll see, what I can do" which is everything that she can within her scope of power that won't endanger the Ferry. "Have faith Delia"

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