Participants:
| Scene Title | Love A Rainy Night |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Except when it ends with getting locked out. And by the way, girls are confusing. |
| Date | August 15, 2011 |
Skinny Brickfront : Endgame Safehouse Rooftop
The rain is steady in falling, the weather pleasant and bright despite the rain that patters down from the skies. It's the perfect kind of rain shower to stand in. Possibly why Remi is standing atop the roof, smoking a cigarette as she frowns across the city. She's been all but hiding the past several weeks, hiding in her room, only to leave when she wants food or a cigarette.
Mostly, she's been hiding away from people. She doesn't want to touch people. To see things. To hear them. For once, she finds herself craving silence, which she rarely gets here.
Maybe she should try to go out.
The roof is a place people tend to go when they want to get away from the press of live inside the house. At least, that's why Devon tends to venture up there, when he wants to get away from it all and the basement feels too enclosed. It's why he's decided to brave the rain with a skateboard in hand.
The teen pauses just after closing the door behind him, his eyes falling on Remi's form. A sigh escapes him, and a shake of his head. But the spaces is just as much his as it is hers. The skateboard is placed on the rooftop, though the weather certainly isn't ideal for the activity. A foot finds purchase on the board's surface and Devon pushes off.
The going is slow, wet wheels cutting through the veil of rainwater collected on the rooftop as the boy drifts toward the far edge. There's no word of greeting as he distantly approaches the telepath, no mention to her at all as he slides idly past.
As always, it's nigh impossible to surprise the telepath. Blue eyes turn to regard Devon quietly, hooded against the drizzle that falls over the rooftop. Her head tips to one side, quietly watching the boy as he glides past her, brows raising. Skateboarding? On the roof? Brows arching, Remi turns her eyes away from the boy, lifting the cigarette to her lips and taking a drag of the cigarette.
She doesn't seem cheerful to see him. Then again, she's been like this toward just about everyone, lately.
No hood for him, no hat or jacket to shelter from the rain. Devon is in simple jeans and a long sleeved shirt and sneakers. Once he's reached the opposite side of the roof he steps off the board and kicks the tail end, flipping it into a waiting hand. The other hand drags through his hair in an absent gesture that ends with fingers curling against the nape of his neck. Chances are he's aware of Remi's watching him, and that he doesn't really care much at all.
After a moment, the board is set onto the rooftop again, given a bit of a nudge into motion before the boy steps onto it. Slightly faster now, he glides over the roof toward the far end, a lean to one side taking him around a piece of debris and closer to the telepath. His eyes slant in her direction, a brow arching in question that, after quick thought, he decides to question. Devon steps off the skateboard and allows it to continue on its path, in turn allowing him to take a step or two toward the woman.
"What's up," he asks in his usual, quiet tones, brow arching higher as his eyes tick from cigarette and back to meet Remi's gaze.
For a moment longer, Remi watches Devon. Then, her eyes turn back away, over the view from the rooftop. She lifts the cigarette to her lips, taking a puff. "Nothing." That seems to be the best answer that Devon can hope to get from the telepath for the time being, leaning up against a railing. She really doesn't care that she's getting wet, unlike the way she used to be.
After a moment, she glances to the boy again. "Isn't zat dangerous?" The cigarette is pointed at his skateboard.
Hands push into his pockets, causing shoulders to lift out a shrug. "Not any more dangerous than smoking," Devon counters with a glance toward the abandoned board. He steps up beside her, to the railing, head tilting away from the line of smoke trailing from the unfiltered end of the cigarette. He turns, after a few seconds of leaning forward against the rail to look down, and faces Remi again.
The boy half leans and half sits against the rail while he regards the telepath. One leg crosses over the other at the ankle and, after a long moment, he looks away from the woman and to the opposite side of the roof. "Y'know, there's people who'll listen if something's bothering you," he points out casually. "You don't have to be all…" A shrug fills in where a word is decided inappropriate. "Self sufficiency isn't shunning the rest of the world and treating it like dog shit."
The telepath watches Devon quietly, before turning to lean against the railing on her elbows this time, puffing at the cigarette. "Smoking kills slowly, over years. Skateboarding is a bit more instant if it decides to kill you, oui?" She quietly mumbles this around that cigarette, before she goes quiet, listening to the rest of his words.
For a moment, it seems as if she is not going to answer him. But then, she offers a shake of her head, allowing it to droop so her artificially darkened hair hangs over her face. "What's bothering me isn't even my own problems," she murmurs in a soft tone, barely audible above the sound of rain pattering down around them. "It's everyone else's problems. I'm not trying to be self sufficient." Another pause comes as she takes a drag from her cigarette. "I'm trying to stay away. Because every touch lets me see other people's problems. At night, I 'ear dreams. Zere are never 'appy dreams 'ere."
She turns a frown toward Devon. "I'm trying to stay away because every touch adds more to the weight on my shoulders."
"Smoking can kill just as quickly as skateboarding," Devon amends with a shrug. "Some people are more susceptible to the toxins in cigarettes than others, just as some people are more prone to accidents." He shrugs, dismissively. Cigarettes and skateboarding, both are moot points.
To the rest, he's quiet for a time, watching the rain as it dances across the rooftop, disturbing a small puddle with a multitude of ripples. "So stop touching people," he suggests, an honesty in his tone despite the sarcastic words. "Or hell, remind yourself that they're not your dreams. Why should it be any weight on your shoulders. It's all baggage the rest of us, have experienced or witnessed." As Devon speaks, his head comes up and turns, eyes going to Remi again. "Don't get me wrong, it's good to care that bad things have happened to us, but it's no reason that you should feel like it's your problem."
Remi frowns. "It's not zat easy. People bump up against each other in ze 'allway. I know zey aren't my dreams, but zat doesn't mean zey don't color my own." She goes silent again, taking a final puff from her cigarette before it is flicked off the roof, to land in a puddle on the ground. "It feels — it feels like what I see is my own memory at times. And like my own memories, certain things remind me of 'orrible things zat 'aven't even 'appened to me."
She shakes her head. "You won't ever understand."
"I won't understand?" Devon takes his turn to frown, staring at Remi as though she'd just made the infinite discovery that all water is wet. "The hell do you know what I would or wouldn't understand? You've seen some of my mind, some of my memories. You seeing it as though it happened to you…" He shakes his head and looks away, back to the puddle as rain flounces across its surface. "Yeah, I wouldn't understand when it's actually happened to me. When I was actually physically there."
Straightening from the railing, Devon steps forward, but not toward Remi. Instead he moves toward the skateboard left sitting some five feet away. "Shit happens, and most of it didn't happen to you. Don't tell me I won't understand what it's like when you're the one getting recycled memories. Pray you never experience it for real."
"No, you won't understand. You don't!" Remi grits her teeth. "I 'ave seen what 'as 'appened to you, 'ow you felt. I 'ave experienced every bit of Elisabeth's time with Humanis First. I 'ave seen what it feels like to die. To watch a loved one sacrifice 'imself. And it might not 'ave been me, but zat doesn't mean it doesn't feel real." She glares out at the surrounding area.
"And I feel it all at once. In a single instant, I 'ave gone from being naive, and 'appy, and innocent, to feeling ze weight of everyone on my shoulders." She suddenly reels on Devon. "I can't touch another person for fear of seeing a nightmare. I can't 'old 'ands, I can't give 'ugs, I can't kiss, I can't…" She shakes her head. "I can't make love, because I fear what I will see!"
She glares. "At least you can touch another. At least you can feel ze warmth of another's skin. My ability won't let me. First I can't perform because I can 'ear everything. I can't go in crowded places, because I can get 'eadaches. Now, I can't…I can't even…"
With another shake of her head, Remi turns away from Devon, letting her back do the talking.
"It happens," Devon spits right back, turning from the skateboard, forgotten again as the telepath goes into a rant. "It happens, in this hell of a world we live in. You think I wasn't naive and happy and innocent at some point? That I enjoy this life? It was my choice to be here, I'll never deny that, but I made the choice so others wouldn't have to. You think I don't bear that same weight even today?" His hands draw out of his pockets, but only to go so far as to fold over his chest, fingers curling into fists.
The teenager frowns at Remi's back for a long minute before shaking his head. "Oh boo hoo. Learn to control that ability of yours and you'll once again be able to go around …making love to whomever you want. Least you've gotten to experience that sort of thing before you had your life threatened. Count your blessings before you go around complaining about what you've lost."
Remi keeps her silence this time, drawing up that wall around her. Blue eyes turn down toward the fire escape beneath her, and suddenly, she hoists herself up on the bars, dropping down onto it…though it looks more like she's just nonchalantly jumped off of the roof. Only the sound of her footsteps clanging against the metal of the stairs can be heard now.
Apparently, she's decided to leave.
Rolling his eyes, Devon follows to the fire escape. He watches only long enough to mark Remi's path before following after her. "Wait," he calls, in exasperated tones. It always seems to end this way, whenever he talks — tries to talk — with the woman. "Remi, stop and just… Stop being stubborn and stuck up and listen for a minute." Though he'd like to, he doesn't try to physically stop her, instead just following close enough on her heels so she can't run away.
She doesn't stop, and for a time, she just makes her way down the stairs in absolute silence, glaring down at the rusted metal of the fire escape as she descends, her nose wrinkling at the smell of the rust. "It's just like you with my telepathy. You would rather I not be in your head. You don't want me to talk to you in your mind. You don't want me to 'ear your thoughts. Well, I don't want to 'ear your mouth move."
She keeps walking, her steps carefully placed so she doesn't risk slipping. "All you ever do is criticize. I 'ave been keeping to myself, keeping my feelings away from all of you. I try to open up to you so many times, Devon, and all you do is act like a little bastard. Would it kill you to offer a kind or comforting word?!" Still, she doesn't look at him, her hands clenched into fists at her side.
Then, she's on the ground, and slowly making her way toward the front of the building, her posture stiff.
More sure of his footing, Devon pays little attention to the climb down, save to make sure Remi doesn't fall. What he could do to stop her is a mystery, but he'd at least make an effort. "You think I want you to keep to yourself," he asks, "or hid off in corners? You're like Dracula and I don't even know how to talk to you! Try and treat you like I do everyone else and I'm suddenly a criticizing bastard? Would you rather I treated you like a princess, put you up on some pedestal where it's look but don't touch or treat you like some part of the team?"
Once she's down safely, the teenager follows, slower this time though still trying to get through. Or understand. "I just… I don't get you. Every time I say something, even… showing simple manners like putting my shirt on, you've got some demeaning remark. —All I tried to do was offer advice like I would Graeme or Liz or anyone else!"
She stops just before reaching the front of the building, spinning around to frown at Devon. "Sometimes, I just want a fucking hug. Sometimes, I just want to complain. I am terrified. I should be in France, sitting in the lavendar fields, reading books. I'm 'ere instead, and I feel like I should be doing something, for what little use I can be. Like I can't just shut my eyes any more."
She clenches her fists at her side again. "But I can't even do anything. I'm useless. All I'm good for is an early warning system. All I'm good for is knowing who comes and goes, what kind of mindset everyone is in. I'm useless, and I'm terrified, and I want a friend, not advice!"
Suddenly, she weakly pushes a hand against Devon's chest, as if to deter him from following, and completely forgetting what touch does to her. Then, she's storming out toward the front porch.
Deterrence or not, Devon follows in a fit of persistence. "If you want to be friends, then you need to take advice. Even if I suck at giving it without compassion. We're all terrified, we all wish we were somewhere else or doing anything but sitting and waiting. But that's all we've got right now." He pauses at the bottom of the stoop, staring up at the telepath. She'd be able to tell that he's trying to figure out how to explain to her what he means, even though he's not even sure what he's getting at himself.
"Remi," the boy begins again, shaking his head slightly. "We're all friends here. All of us. Everyone of us that lives here. We have to be or we wouldn't survive. If you need someone to talk to, go knock on a door instead of hiding behind yours! Hell, I'll buy you a teddy bear if you need something to hug!"
"I don't want to talk. I want to…I don't know what I want. I don't even know! And I would rather 'ide behind my door and not trouble others with my whining about things that 'aven't even 'appened to me." She narrows her eyes. "Don't bother any more. When I try to talk, I only get told zat I'm silly for feeling like zis, zat I should be fortunate zat it 'asn't 'appened to me, zat I'm stupid for feeling as I do!" She shakes her head. "It's not advice you give me. It's scorn."
And then, Remi darts inside, and slams the door shut.
And then, the locks can be heard, clicking into place.