Participants:
| Scene Title | Motherfuckers |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | The Wesley-Khan family begins to deal with the aftermath of the Pink Gala gone awry. |
| Date | April 1, 2019 |
The Wesley-Khan Residence
The door to the Wesley-Khan household bangs open with force as a wave of heat and Isabelle stalks inside clutching her side where a bandage is wrapping around her middle, blood ruins the golden shimmery number that Namiko helped Isabelle pick out.
The pyrokinetic throws her clutch on the couch and slams her hands on the counter. Staring down at the black surface that shows her a warped version of her reflection. Another moment passes and the brunette rips a glass out of the sink. Her keg of moonshine is drained of liquid until it fills her cup and she stands there shaking as she lifts the glass to her lips. Her scar flares in the low light of the apartment.
It’s saying something that Isabelle can even bang the very carefully designed doors of a swanky Cresting Wave apartment open, making enough noise to startle Shaw out of his doze on the couch with a yelp when her clutch smacks into his face in the dark. He’d been trying to stay awake for her, but somewhere in the quiet and darkness he’d slipped off.
No longer. With a grope for the controller that handles the room’s lighting, he finds it and presses the button up to a brighter setting… and just about falls out of his impromptu resting spot in a scramble up to a stand. “Eanqa’, what- what happened?!” He immediately comes over, and his breath catches at the sight of her ruined dress, her mussed hair, the blood. Shaw reaches out for the pyro’s heated shoulders, concern masking any other thoughts. Except one. “Wh- who did this to you?”
Namiko hasn't been asleep, mostly because she can't lie down without coughing. She comes out from her room, a tissue in hand, and she flips on a light.
"Mom?" She asks, her tone surprised and a bit confused. She glances toward the clock, squinting to get a clearer look at it before she looks back to Isa. "What happened?" Her words come between coughs, which might be why she keeps it short. Nearly unheard of for her.
Shahid's hands finding those super heated shoulders makes Izzy nod her head. "I wish you were there." To calm her, to just… be there. If something went wrong with Shahid near her she could always figure it out. Nami comes in and Isabelle grimaces as her expression lifts to her daughter's face. There's a option for Isabelle here, shield her daughter- what the fuck was she thinking.
They were the Wesley-Khan's.
"Somebody hit the gala. Unsure if it was an inside job." With how incompetent the security seemed to be at preventing what was apparently another theft behind their walls. "In the chaos they stole the items for auction or ruined them? I got stabbed by a man with a fucking," she pulls the long quill out from her clutch and throws it on the table, her dried blood cakes the thing on one end. Staring down at the thing with a glare. "That." Her scar flares with orange light. More of her drink is guzzled and Isa stares down intently at the stake.
The rub on Isa’s shoulders is light in its pressure, enough to be reassuring of his presence and to try and calm her. But when Namiko emerges from the other room, he looks over towards the younger woman with an added bit of worry.
Between illness and injury, Shaw swallows down his own bitter pill of concern as Isa relays the summary of events and reveals the quill. He releases his hold on Isa’s shoulders to reach for the strange spiny object. They’ll know the next blank yet focused look on his face, the sort that comes over him when he’s using his ability. Shaw’s senses black out save one, as he holds the barb within his fingers he takes in a deep breath, holds, and slowly exhales.
It’s the myriad of scents that he studies of the object, of Namiko’s cold, Izzy’s moonshine, the room itself. The effect of his power has not been one Shaw has described very well to others. How does a dog describe what it smells? The language barrier is always there. So when Shaw releases his focus, letting the other senses come back to him, he squints. The lights are quite bright.
But once he breathes normally again, Shaw resumes a more present expression. “He smells stinky,” he murmurs, “like farmstock and shampoo.”
"Dad. She needs bandages," Namiko says, trying to pull the both of them off the thought of revenge and onto more immediate concerns. "If that came from a person, she needs that wound cleaned out. We don't need an infection." In her world, the wet always made wounds harder to deal with. And an infection at sea killed more than once. It's clear to the both of them that she's serious. "Mom, there's security here. Cameras. Video." That's more like offering a solution. "Maybe you can see someone you recognize. Or someone running off with stolen goods."
Isabelle looks over at Namiko and nods. "Those would be good." She says weakly, she's tired. But she's angry, she's furious. The heat in the room spikes and Isabelle rubs at her forehead.
Release…
"The cameras. Okay good idea. I have another too." The pyrokinetic looks grim, involving other people could get them hurt but… "I'm sorry Namiko. We brought you to this world and it's fucking just as fucked as all the others." Guzzling down the rest of her drink she looks off to the side out of the window across the room. Isa feels like a failure not just because she didn't catch that porcupine but because she had with Shaw promised their daughter this world would be good, cool.
"It's hard for me to let things go." It's an honest admission and Izzy still looks away, "But I promise you'll be safe. Our home will be safe." She's rambling trying to ignore the thoughts in the back of her head, she could have roasted that room.
“We are safe,” Shaw insists as he moves away for a moment to set the quill down on a nearby table. Namiko’s statement about bandages gets a short bobbed nod, and he sets his shoulders to something more sturdy and determined. “You both sit. I’ll get the kit and make us some tea.”
Of course with the tea will come a sweet accompaniment. This world had such luxuries for them now. The minutes pass between leaves steeping and disinfecting wipes going over wound points. Shaw retrieves the various things for his pair of ladies as needed: the tea and dutch waffle cookies, as previously mentioned, set of warm dampened towels, a washbin, and a change of clothes for Isabelle, another clean, warmed and steamed towel and comforting throw for Namiko. By now, they’re pros at washing blood stains out of clothing. But at least the original Yamagato medics did the hard part of handling an angry, wounded Isa.
“Are you sure we don’t need to go back to the hospital?” he fusses mildly, “Maybe we should…” But he interrupts his own jumble of concerns once he has a good look at them both. “Maybe we should rest.” This is spoken with more firmness than the words imply. Taking his own advice, he settles back down with a mug of tea covered with a cookie to warm it. “Did anything good happen before those robbers came?”
Namiko puts the towel against her forehead and holds the throw around her shoulders. She gives Shaw a warm look, silent thanks. "Mom," she says, "why are you apologizing? My world was flooded. Your world was ripped apart by a virus. Both of them were full of people wiping us out because of what we are. This world isn't perfect, but it's fine by me. I've been walking on actual ground. No one has tried to genocide me in months."
Perspective, Namiko has it.
"Security will catch these guys. Or we will. You have nothing to apologize to me about." She looks over at Shaw, a cough covering any words she might have to say to him. Instead she gestures toward Isa. Dad pls.
Isa stops and looks over at Namiko as she speaks and there's plenty of sound logic there and so… she laughs softly to herself as she looks up at Shahid and then over to Namiko. "I guess you're right." Both of them. There wasn't anything to do tonight, she was hurting. She was rambling, a mess. Family was safe though. Namiko was safe. she knew it, she was overreacting. That's what mothers did she tells herself, that's how her mother was in that flashback she saw. Fiercely protective. The pyrokinetic wouldn't lay the blame on her latent maternal instincts that she wanted to hurt the man who stabbed her.
Burning his flesh felt like the only just punishment. She wanted to do it, because she wanted to do it. It was that simple and the curl of a voice inside her head, behind those blocks that have been slowly deteriorating. Release…
Isa smiles and waves Nami off, it's fine it's fine, "There were a lot of people. Almost like that time we went to a gala back in the Pinehearst dimension. Flashy colors…" Dark hair in her face as she explains to them both how the night began. Plastering a weak smile on her face, trying to ignore thoughts of rage in her mind. Trying to be in the moment with her family.
Trying to outrun herself.