Participants:
| Scene Title | Last Words |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Magnes and Sable shoot the shit, and give each other their last words while they have the convenience of being alive to. |
| Date | June 3, 2010 |
Gun Hill - Rooftop
Situated atop the Gun Hill apartment building, five stories above street level, the rooftop of the tenement building overlooks the Bronx's gritty urban landscape. A single stair access leads out onto the smooth concrete rooftop surrounded by a three foot high red brick wall with a masoned top. Ventillation pipes and a chimney that connects to the singular fireplace down in the basement rises up from the concrete rooftop, though the chimney's old brick is crumbling and weathered.
A pair of old sun-bleached folding lawn chairs are situated out on the roof along with a plastic cooler, while white sacks of loam and soil are set next to large lengths of scrap wood, a box of nails and a few carpentry tools; a project in the works.
The sun's long since set, and it took Sable some doing to get back to Gun Hill before curfew. Just one missed bus might have landed her in serious trouble, but luck shone upon the young rocker, as it sometimes does. This fact is one Sable is currently reflecting upon as she stands on the rooftop in the very pleasant midsummer night air. Reflecting, also, are the glasses she wears, a new addition to he usually invariable wardrobe. They frames are round and silver, holding lenses of purple glass that hide the yellow of her eyes, just as they hold purple ghosts of the city lights within their twin circumferences.
She let Magnes know, via text, that she's up here, and that he had the time, he should join her. But that first things came first. He knows what she means. Wink. For her own part, she seems quite happy to stand by herself, hands in her pockets, gazing out at points of light puncturing darkness, her lips curled in a smile that is both serene and sly, like someone holding a comforting secret.
It's hard to say when Magnes reached the roof, since she certainly didn't hear the door open. He's in that vintage Spider-Man and his Amazing Friends t-shirt he often wears, with blue jeans and black sneakers, crouched on top of the door entrance peering down at her like Spider-Man. "What's up, Sable?" is the first sound she hears that indicates he's arrived.
Sable turns, the purple lenses over her eyes lifting to frame the crouching Magnes in silver hoops. Her smile loses its secrecy, breaks into a grin. "Glad y' made it," she says, "Wouldn't've been sore if y' couldn't, but glad y' did." She takes a few steps closer. "Wanna come down, 'n' converse with th' mortals, gravity boy?"
Magnes hops down, landing with his knees slightly bent before standing up straight. "I think I'm getting better at landing without my ability. The Russian's teaching me a lot. So, what did you wanna talk about?"
"Jus' wanted a, like, touch-base sorta conversation," Sable says, hands still planted in her pockets, smile still broad and warm. "I put my ol' guitar t' rest t'day, 'n' I feared it'd make me feel crazy. Didn't, though. At least I don't think. But I always know I'm better when yer around, so figured… play it safe. Catch up with m' boy." She tips her glasses down, getting a look at him in real, unfiltered color. "Anythin' on yer mind? Anythin' needs voicin'?"
"Not a lot, I guess. Trying to get my life a little simpler, get this tracking device out of my body, and I need to see my parents. I'll bring you, Elaine, Quinn and maybe Delilah if she can come." Magnes looks back at her, smiling. "I heard about you and Elaine."
Sable inclines her head in a nod, then pushes her glass back up her nose. "So she said," the yellow eyed girl says, "I was gonna say somethin' t' you m'self, but I got beat to it. Don't think I was tryin' to hold a secret 'r nothin'. Honest, I figure it could be good news f'r y'. What I've in mind, y'see," she taps her temple, "Time comes, with us on the rise, yer gonna have ladies clamorin' 'n' all t' share yer bed. And I figured, best yer lady love know what's what 'n' how t' handle herself, increasin' yer reputation as a loverman without, like, equal." She grins, "Plus she's awful fuckin' cute. If y' don't mind me sayin' so."
"Wait, what's she got to do with me and groupies?" Magnes seems to have been lost a bit in there, scratching the back of his head in a bit of confusion. "Besides, she already thinks I'm the best thing ever, and it's not like I can just go out and get more experience or something. There's only two women on the planet Elaine would probably let me sleep with, and neither of them are gonna happen."
Sable shakes her head. "You tend t' yer own homestead," she says, "All I'm sayin' is, should 'groupies' as y' call 'em come yer way, only way y'll be gettin' any from 'em is if Elaine's there 's well. 'n' if she's just as impressive as yerself, more chance th' both 'f y' will be spoken of highly. Together y'd make a willin' groupie into a goddamn devotee, y' dig?"
"Oh, yeah, that makes sense." Magnes still has that look of confusion, but he does get in, looking down at her. "I always thought you were extremely experienced, so I'm expecting Elaine to have a lot of new tricks now." He snickers, walking to the edge of the roof so he can look down in a way that might make one thing he were contemplating suicide. "And I've never told you, but even though you're so much shorter than me, I always feel like you're a seven foot tall imposing woman."
Sable laughs at this, mostly a snicker, but better spirited. "Strength 'f fuckin' character," she says, by way of explanation, "I've always thought y' are just as y' are, and that's somethin' I think highly 'f y' fer. Y' wear masks 'n' costumes, boy, but yer never false. Never a poser. I dunno if it comes easy t' y', but you sure make it seem like it does." She walks up next to him, considering the same fatal drop. "Got m'self a shit job," she says, "Even conned myself an advance. Bought Dee a few things, 'cause I'm helpless like that. But I wanted t' let you know I'll be payin' y' back fer what I owe you. 'n' I got y' this, a while back," she slips her hand into one of her larger pants pockets and extracts a CD case, which she lifts up and to the side, offering it to Magnes without breaking her gaze into the abyss.
"Thanks, Sable!" Magnes says as he takes the CD, looking it over. And she can feel a gentle tug, the familiar feeling of his gravity. It's clear he's trying to keep her secure without letting her know, even if he's not great at being subtle with his ability sometimes. "I don't know if it's a natural thing, Isabelle, someone I think you'd have loved, before she died she tried to help me get out of my shell. I used to lack a lot of confidence, couldn't even take my shirt off. I wore glasses back then too, instead of contacts. But I guess since her, it's been kind of a journey to be myself, and find out who myself is. Every time I've tried to be someone else, I turned out unhappy."
"No fuckin' problem 'n' a poor fuckin' recompense f'r, like, all y've seen fit t' give me," Sable says, "Just trust that I'll try 'n' repay you in turn. Hell," she snickers, "I'd even say y' can go ahead with th' girl of my fancy but," she peeks at him from the corner of her eye, unimpeded by the lenses, "You have that covered already, eh?" She slips her hands back into her pockets, "Think y' know who y' are now, then? Think y'v found yerself? Or at least a self y' can live with?"
"You don't have to pay me back for anything, I did what I did because I wanted to. If you really want to pay me back, just don't let it all be for nothing, and keep following your dreams." Magnes continues staring down at the CD, and occasionally looks over at her. "I think I can live with the person I am now, it's just staying who I am that's the challenge now. Staying who I want to be, and not bending to other people that try to change it and make me into what they want me to be."
"'n' who's seekin' t' change you?" Sable asks, turning slowly to lean against the wall ringing the rooftop, turning her back on the darkness below. "What voices, like, whisper, 'n' what wicked souls would make y' int' their tool?" She's being hyperbolic, of course, but she does consider coercion of Magnes of any kind (presuming it's not her that's coercing him) a grave sin.
"Lots of people. But I won't let them, my ability is my own, and I want to help people with it, not fulfill misguided ambitions. A lot of people seem to miss the helping part. What I want to do might not save the world, it might not change the country, but… it'll help." Magnes steps down to sit right next to her, reaching over to take her hand. "If I could say one last word to you, if I had to choose, it'd be for you to never change, to never be anyone you're not, don't let my spirit die in you."
Sable is a little startled at her had being taken, but she eases into it quick enough, curling her fingers around Magnes'. She gives a small laugh, "Preserve me in amber, huh?" she says, "Caught in an eternal fuckin' moment, to be as I am always. Don't wish it on me, hon. I've gotta shift sometimes. Gotta give way when it's that 'r… well, worse. But what good y' see in me, what worth y' place in what I am… that I promise t' hold dear, dig?"
"I can live with that." Magnes leans back, never releasing her hand, he seems comfortable right there up on the roof with her. "What would you tell me? I mean, if you had last words, what would you tell me?"
Sable wants very badly to make a joke. She's not sure what joke it would be. The fact, in fact, that it does not rise at once to her mind is likely what stops her from playing the fool in this moment. It's an omen, this lack of quip, that tells her she's to be serious. That this is a serious question.
"That everythin' y' need t' know is written in song, hon," she says, "Either th' ones y' hear, 'r the ones y' make. 'n' that it's all just echos in yer soul, 'n' it's you, all along."
Magnes leans over to kiss Sable's cheek, then releases her hand and starts walking for the door. "Thanks, Sable. I'm gonna head back downstairs, you can come over later if you want. I always love talking to you."
Sable's lips quirk a bit at the peck on the cheek, but it raises no complaint, no threats of castration, not even an ugly face. She lifts two fingers to her brow in a casual salute as Magnes heads off. "Might just. 'n' just th' same, hon. Just the same."