Participants:
| Scene Title | Rising Sun |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | The convoy continues its journey beyond New Chicago. |
| Date | July 8, 2021 |
“There is nothing beyond Chicago.”
The residents of New Chicago had warned the convoy that travel north would be desolate and perilous. In the years immediately following the flood, war broke out across dry land. Cities burned, populations fled in mass exodus as the power grid failed and extreme weather dropped tornados on top of hurricanes. The world was coming apart at the seams…
And it still is.
Wisconsin & Iowa Border
July 8th
1:57 pm
The convoy has stopped for a break at the midpoint of the day. Its vehicles are laid out in a line along the shoulder of I-20 just outside of the flattened ruin that was once the town of East Dubuque. There are no buildings left here, and little sign there ever was. Wild undergrowth has covered the ground, leaving grids where crumbling asphalt is slowly being consumed back into nature. Across the river, the jagged skyline of Dubuque, Iowa looks like an epitaph given shape and form. Gutted skyscrapers slouch against one-another, covered with greenery and foliage. The sole bridge across the Mississippi is sagged into the water like a swayback mare ready for the pasture.
Standing just outside Frizzell, Stephanie Winters wraps her arms around herself and looks out at the haunting ruins of the city beyond. Not far away, Tay Epstein is checking the tires for rocks and shrapnel, making sure there’s no slow leaks that will stop them as they go further north. Stef isn’t watching him, however. She’s watching the western horizon and the dark clouds growing there.
“Storm’s coming…” Stef says, blue eyes halfway lidded. Nate reaches up to take her hand, and she does so with the safety of the gloves she’d purchased in New Chicago. They’re cold and unfamiliar to the touch, and Nate looks up with his mother with a sense of uncertainty and doubt.
“Mom?” He asks, hushed.
Stef looks down at him with a tension in her jaw, throat working up and down in a dry swallow. Nate’s little fingers grip that hand tighter. His mom isn’t looking back at him.
“Dad?” He whispers to a father he never knew.
Peter Petrelli raises a borrowed, gloved finger to his lips, making a soft shushing sound. Nate’s eyes widen and he looks around, then down to his feet and nods. He doesn’t understand, and yet instinctively he does.
Nothing can ever be the same anymore.
"Now where did I leave that thing?" Eve's voice can be heard before she's seen exiting the majestic bus, via the window. Head first and grunting along the way, the pale woman gets to about halfway hanging outside before she gets bored and poofs into the crimson mist instead. Settling down on the ground near the parent and child, Eve rematerializes and huffs. "Yoohoo!"
Looking up and over at the Petrellis with raised eyebrows and a frantic waving of her hands. "You two wouldn't have happened to notice my little glass jar with my little green leaves, would you-"
Eve senses something amiss in front of her, maybe Nate was just reprimanded for trying to get into Aunt Eve's stash, surely that's the case here.
Still: "That's a heavy, loud silence. Is everything alright dearie?" Tilted head throwing strands of jet black hair into her ruby glowing eyes.
Elliot lowers himself from the cab of Tinderbox, bleary-eyed and partially rested. Sleeping under less than ideal conditions is nothing new to him, though he's certain now that Jonathan's invulnerability is fueled by talking and that the man will die if he stops.
He stretches, boots crunching on the remains of the road. Eyes search for familiar faces as he runs the numbers on how many of them stayed behind. He wishes he'd managed to convince the local Elliot to come along; not because they need him, but because he needed someone to share the threat of the Palace with. Mostly he's just relieved his ears aren't ringing anymore.
Nathalie comes around the bus, digging a little jar out from her own bag. Tossing it Eve's way, she gives the Seer a little whistle to get her attention. "You left it in Scout's backseat," she says, but at least the little green leaves don't seem to have depleted much since the last time Eve saw it.
She pauses to ruffle Nate's hair, but only for a moment. Her attention strays up to Stef's face, her expression dulling. But she follows her gaze to the horizon, giving the sky a long, dark look. "May the winds blow till they have wakened death," she says quietly, as if it were a small incantation. Or as if it weren't quite herself speaking.
Turning abruptly, Nat moves her attention away from the sky and to anything else.
Silas emerges from the bus with a groan, raising his hands and stretching vigorously to work loose the kinks caused by sleeping in a bus seat; once that's done, though, he's pleasantly surprised to find he doesn't feel all that bad.
The next thing that draws his attention is the feel of a storm brewing; between the overcast sky and the desolation of the land, there's a sullen hostility to this place … though if that's the worst this place has to offer, he'll be glad for it. He offers a nod and a smile to those present, his gaze sweeping around to see what he might have missed.
Having hopped down from Scout, Chess throws her bow and quiver over her shoulder, then reaches back to grip one hand with the other behind her back, stretching muscles that have sat too long in one position. Her blue eyes scan the landscape – it’s both familiar and unknown at the same time. It’s not a place she’s been – her trip from Colorado to the eastern United States took her on a different path across the nation, one further south than this northwest trajectory. Dubuque isn’t a place she’s been, but it’s familiar in its desolation and despair to the places she’d passed through during the Second Civil War in the other world.
She moves closer to Elliot, offering him a small smile of greeting. “Doing all right?” she asks. Things are different after Chicago, and they have so little stability as it is on foreign territory.
Not far off, Nova’s pulled from the bus’s storage space one of the water jugs for people to refill their personal water bottles – it’s one of those big orange Gatorade barrels seen at high school soccer games and the like. Without any tables to set it on, she rolls it, then lifts it to sit atop the step into the bus, which means people will have to navigate around it.
“Watch your step coming down,” she calls up to those still in Frizzle, but stands there to make sure no one trips over the orange barrel.
By Elliot's side, Spades asides darkly and commiseratively to him "I warned you." in low volumes. He glances the other man's way and then runs a hand back through his hair, quieting on Chess' approach. He at least affords her a small uplift of chin in greeting, not rude even if he's often taciturn to the point of awkwardness with most.
Asi remains aboard Frizzell even as the engine finishes the last of tired turnovers, leaned over the large steering wheel with her arms folded against it. It's been a long and tiring day, and she expresses as much with an equally-long sigh and zero indication she's going to get up and move off the bus anytime soon.
It hasn't quite been as restful as anticipated, what with various shenanigans, but Kendall still took full advantage of his ability to have a custom-fit bed anywhere he goes to optimize physical comfort, at the very least. He's been subdued lately, likely to the relief of certain people, but he's there for the mustering of the troops.
He looks over at Silas and is about to say something in greeting, then follows his gaze to the horizon and sighs faintly. “Stating the obvious, but I'm really tired of rain.”
“You say that now,” Tay quips as he walks by Kendall carrying a makeshift tire patch kit, “but eventually all this shit is gonna be snow.” He motions to the sky with his chin, but keeps walking down the line of the Convoy to check more tires for leaks or damage.
It isn't until Tay walks in front of Peter that he seems to register the rest of the world around him. He turns abruptly, recalling Eve’s voice and her question. Stef’s conduit-haunted eyes stare back at the seer, though she can tell something is amiss it's Nathalie who can tell for certain.
“Everything’s fine.” Peter says in Stef’s voice, but Nathalie feels the subtle overlay of Peter’s voice. A resonance from her side of the Black Conduit, like feedback. Chess doesn't have the same experience, however. Different frequencies, after all.
Catching the jar without looking, Eve nods her head, "Why thank you Dear One. Everyone's getting a little high ha!" Her eyes stay on Stef the whole time that there is no response, gazes of blue and red connect finally and the paler woman tilts her head even further to an odd angle. There's a squint as her thumb absently runs along the lid of the jar clutched in her right hand. After a moment or two passes Eve's face pulls a full 180.
"I see."
Her mouth widening slowly into a devilish grin, head still almost turned upside down regarding her sister through the timelines. Straightening her back, Eve begins to remove her rolling supplies and gets to work while whistling a cheery tune full of loops that seem to be climbing with every pass of the melody. It's now that Eve slightly nudges Nathalie's foot without looking but her mouth drops open to sing, "Do you hear what I hear?" an effort to speak in code to the younger woman as she sings it softly, slowly using the rolling paper to spread out the green evenly. Do you see it?
Something is off. Eve cannot tell what, but she doesn't think this needs the eyes and ears of everyone, everywhere all at once in order to not cause… well, mayhem. The best strategy for that in her eyes was to distract. The theory that Stef had just went somewhere or seen something and was needing time to fully orient herself to the waking world instills itself in Eve's mind.
She was going to ensure her sister from another mister had time, and Nathalie and Chess were best suited to dealing with this directly while Eve helped as she could.
Rational.
"Oh hey Tay Tay!!" The joint is freshly rolled and she waves it up in the air, "Lemme know if you'd like to take a toke with me! All organic, grown by the sea!" Grinning wildly in his direction at his retreating back. The urge to drop a semi lewd comment is stamped out by not wanting to throw Nathalie off and dear Nate being so close even though she's said far worse things in front of both before.
Distraction.
“Just tired,” Elliot tells Chess, eyes not lingering on her newly haunting blues. He tilts his head toward Ace. “He did in fact warn me that sleep might be hard to come by even in the most comfortable bed in the convoy. ‘How bad could it be?’ I asked, and now I know more about Burt Reynolds than a man could ever need to know.”
After a nod to Spades, Chess looks back at Elliot, brow lifting at his answer. “Who the fuck is Burt Reynolds?” she asks. There’s not a lick of irony in that question, and her brows draw together with the uncomfortable feeling of not knowing something it seems she should know. It’s unfortunately a common feeling on this trip, and one she doesn’t like.
A laugh that wants to be louder than it is chokes its way out of Spades. He tries to head it off with a hand that aborts covering his mouth to instead wave it dismissively once he believes he has matters under control. "No one who matters anymore," he affirms for Chess' sake once the chuckle subsides. "But don't let Jonathan hear you say it."
"Mostly for my sake," Spades clarifies with a small smile that's incredibly tired. "I can't be held liable for what I'll do if he starts his marathon of fun facts again."
From the Wildcat comes Des, unsuccessfully stifling a yawn and under the delusion that it totally doesn’t show since she didn’t part her lips or make a big sound to go with it. “Hey,” she greets the small knot of people subjected to and clueless about certain trivia, lifting her hand in a small wave. She’s friendly enough as ever, but her smile is a little uncertain. “How was the singalong?” The tiny captain hesitates before taking a step closer to her first mate, testing the waters between them.
Nathalie looks back to Stef, the voice certainly catching her attention. She makes a small, inquisitive hmph, which could be an answer to Eve, or perhaps a general sense of interest. Not exactly surprise, considering her own history with body hopping— including Stef's— but definitely interest. "Comfortable in there?" she asks with a nod toward the bus, to make the question appear conversational and innocuous. But, of course, it isn't. "It's been a difficult journey." Her tone has a feel of testing the waters, to feel out where her concern should lie in this situation.
There's a glance to Eve; her distractions (and general Eveness) might not be appreciated by everyone, but Nat can appreciate how precisely Eve senses when and how to unleash it. So there's a bit of a warmer smile when she turns back to Peter and Nate.
Tay is shot an incredulous look, and Kendall frowns over at the horizon again. “So you're saying we might be looking for a white Christmas in July? I hope you mean less imminently, surely the weather isn't that screwed up.”
When Eve approaches, Kendall takes a step back, looking awkward. He was upset she died, but now she's back, and looking like that. His hand goes to his pocket where the key she gave him was kept, but he still doesn't know what it's for, and likely was supposed to unlock something back where they were. “Should throw it away.” he mutters, looking away.
Silas nods in commiseration with Kendall — he doesn't miss driving in the rain — but when Tay one ups him with talk of snow Silas grimaces.
"Rockies for sure. As much weather as we've been getting, it'd be weirder if it wasn't snowing there," he tells Kendall grimly. The should throw it away bit is an odd non-sequitur, one that sees him glance Kendall's way with a frown, but that's something he can ask about later.
“More’n that,” Tay comments over his shoulder to Silas. “Way I had it explained to me: Gulf stream moved way south when the hurricane hit. Brought all that cold from the north further south. Ain’t no summer up there anymore. At least one that doesn’t get snow year round.”
Continuing on with his patch kit in hand, Tay only stops to side eye Eve and give her an upnod of acknowledgement. He could stand to get high tonight after everything they’ve been through. But he’ll circle back around on that once he’s checked off every heaping task piled up in his head.
Tay walks by Edward, who is seated on the rusted hood of an old Plymouth with deflated tires and blown out windows. Edward watches Tay pass, then turns his attention to Destiny. He watches her for a short time, brows furrowed, then takes off his glasses to clean the lenses with a bloodstained handkerchief. When he puts his glasses back on, his focus is locked across the river in a tense, thoughtful stare.
’Stef’ notices, moving to stand near Edward, leaning against the side of the car. “You look worried.”
Edward scoffs a laugh and tucks the stained handkerchief in his jacket pocket. “Aren’t you?” She has no reply, instead turning pale eyes to the same horizon as Edward, trying to see what he does. They sit together in silence, each contemplating their own worries.
Nate, left to his own devices, slips out of his parents’ reach and comes up behind Elliot and Chess. His feet are just a few inches off the ground, hovering playfully as he watches them and listens, trying to be at once unobtrusive but also obviously just a floating little boy.
Elliot scuffs forward and peers gracelessly back over his shoulder as his personal space is suddenly filled. His first thought is on regretting not having anyone in the network whose eyes are already looking in that direction. His second thought is how Squeaks' impression behind the 0bservation Room’s two-way mirror is gone, so she’s cleared to link up again after the long day they spent linked yesterday. His third thought, seeing the boy he’s never had any reason to be around, is Huh, safe. He relaxes, not shying any further away. “He played Magnum, P.I. in our world,” he further explains to Chess. “Old detective show. Big Mustache.”
At the question posed to him by Des, Spades turns her way to give what passes for a subtle grimace that masks his wondering why it is he still bothers with that particular cabin anyway. He knows it's owing to his ability to withstand any potential explosion should the worst happen, the same as Jonathan might, but there's somewhat still room between the other vehicles that he could find time elsewhere.
Though— to his credit, Jonathan's antics were certainly quieter now than they'd been on the first leg of this journey. He was getting more thoughtful, Spades thought to himself, the farther they got from terra cognita. And now Marlowe was gone as well, off to serve a greater purpose than he dared, personally.
He notices Nate out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn't really notice him at first. By the time it at last dawns on him that the boy has gained several inches compared to normal, Spades' pupils shrink, his head whipping about to scan the horizon as though it held danger. Knowing that they should be alone out here doesn't change the instinct that's been instilled in him since humanity rained downfall on its own collective head— one that screams that showing your power is a quick way to get yourself killed by those who believe you were the cause of the apocalypse.
Spades flies out a hand to Nate's elbow like to yank him back down to the ground, but he hesitates, doesn't actually make contact. With no small amount of urgency, he warns the young boy quietly, "You're gonna get yourself killed if you do that in front of strangers, kid." It's unlike him to show anxiety for others, but children who don't know any better appear to be an exception point. "It's not safe to be us in front of strangers. Other places aren't like the 'Pelago." He tips his head down as he seeks a reply to, "Understand?"
Silas's lips draw tight. "Good to know," he says, in the same kind of tightly drawn tone he might use to spit a curse at the news of a storm coming on the sea. Storm in the mountains isn't any better, a voice at the back of his mind points out with sardonic humor. Even the last time he'd been this way, a storm in the mountains could be messy, and the weather hadn't been nearly as fucked back then. Lotta things weren't nearly this fucked.
Then again, that's the way they're headed, weather or no. "Let's hope we just get the one storm," Silas says, moving towards Tay. He's still trying to sort out everything that's happened just since New Chicago, but standing around stewing in his own thoughts isn't going to help anyone… and besides, he's always done his best thinking when his hands are busy. "Need a spare hand?"
Nathalie lifts an eyebrow at Spades' reaction to Nate's floating about. She pushes her hair back from her face and makes a show of looking around. "No strangers here, Spades. We're in the middle of nowhere, in a goddamn ruin. Who do you think is out here hunting mutants?" She glances to Nate, her expression softening. "Sorry for the language."
Not that she's likely to watch her mouth in the future, either.
She looks back to Spades, her head tilting toward the boy, "Besides, anyone tries to hurt that kid, it's the last thing they'll do." Even if it was just him and Peter, that would be the case, but in this group there's no question how that would turn out.
"Next time, do try and hover from a tad further back dearie," "Aunt" Eve's voice whispers just behind Nate as the older woman materializes there a few seconds after Spades' reaction. A devilish grin widening her lips and showing teeth. "Nobody can ever make you feel bad about your gift, sweet one." A wink to the boy and pat on the back before she eyes Spades and then Nathalie.
"I was assured you were a fun one dear cousin in law," That's not exactly what Odessa said back home but it was clear just how different people could be in the different worlds, how extreme the circumstances can change. "They have scared you good," the tone of her voice all but says pity. "I hope one day you never have to feel shame for your gift. Ever be afraid to be who you were meant to be." There's a moment where anyone who knows Eve that she's just about to go off on a rant about how the Expressives should feel pride in their genetic code, that they should revel in the gifts that have been bestowed upon them. That they should rise up-
The pale woman blinks a few times to come back to reality after the daydream goes up in a poof of smoke.
"One day! One day!"
Nate bobs up and down like an untethered balloon as others weigh in on his floating. But his smile never really fades. He drifts right up in Spades’ face and puts little hands on the top of his head. “But you’re not a stranger, Mr. Spades! Mom said so! You’re one of the good guys!” Nate’s expression is irrepressibly bright as he smooshes his hands down Spades’ hair to cup his ears. “See!”
A soft laugh erupts from ‘Stef’, something nearly restrained that broke free. Pale blue eyes track to Nate and to Spades, then Eve. “Listen to your aunt,” is the only guidance Nate gets. Eve, though, earns a small wink of approval.
Des’ eyes grow a little wide between Eve’s comments about a cousin-in-law and not being afraid of their gifts. Her otherworld cousin doesn’t know how she hid and the things that she saw when the end of the world began. She laces her fingers with Spades’ and squeezes his hand. Tighter when Nate starts patting on his head. Biting back a comment about keeping hands to ourselves — she’s not the parent — she settles for that contact to try and keep her partner from giving in to the urge to leave that she suspects he feels.
“Someday, Eve,” she affirms, however. “We’re cautious now so we can make it to a brighter day.” It’s recited like it’s something Destiny was told frequently at one time.
Spades' reaction to Nate's indifference for the warning he tries to provide, especially as it relates to the physical touch, is catlike in nature. His helpful mentoring— or so he thought— ignored, he physically recoils away from the touch to his head. The smush of hair is as far as Nate is able to safely reach for Spades, and then the light on that head and on his body seems to look odd as it passes through him as he begins to discorporate. He remains visible enough for the pull of his brows and the how dare otherwise in his expression to speak for him now that he's lost the ability to speak, and he'd be gone entirely… if not for that very knowing pull on his hand from Destiny, one which anchors him from slipping intangibly and invisibly away. It doesn't keep him from stepping back, ultimately, a look of quiet frustration falling over him.
Once he feels safe from more hands landing on his head, the light of day catches on his torso and head as they become material once more, casting shadow where shadow ought be again. With it, he mutters, "We'd kill anyone who'd use you as target practice, yes. But making yourself and us less of a target would save us all the trouble of having to kill people we could have just left alone." His eyes go over to Nathalie without actually coming up properly, and he says with something like apology, "Maybe no one's here now. That's not always the case."
Looking like he'd rather be anywhere other than under these skeptical eyes, he reaches for Destiny's hand to encourage her to let go so he can properly vanish from sight, slipping invisible and incorporeal in a swipe from right to left— like he's an unpleasant smudge on reality that's been wiped out of existence.
At least, it appears that way except to those who can't still sense the tangle of life that persists invisibly in a vaguely human-shaped cloud, one which departs immediately from the cluster of caravanners and takes care to curve around the front end of a nearby vehicle as it seeks somewhere out of sight to eventually become tangible in once more.
The little blonde looks up at him, plainly wanting to resist his encouragement, but eventually relenting. With her partner having gone, her jaw works to one side with her frustration, her brow pinching. Destiny turns her head one way and then the other as if to determine which direction he’s gone off in when she spots Edward. Frowning, she begins trudging off to join him.
Elliot decides that he is not in fact entirely comfortable with seeing how all of this plays out, slinking away from potential conflict for less hostile waters.
“Wait, was that Burt Reynolds?” he asks the air, stopping not far away.
“No,” Wright informs him, holding up her phone with a correction ready.
“Ohh,” he says. “That guy.”
"Well, when people are around, you can scold him into being more discreet. But let him have his fun, while he can." Nathalie trails off on her response to Spades, perhaps suspecting that he'd rather not be part of this type of conversation at the moment. She looks away as he slips off, as if to help him in disappearing. Maybe she would rather not be part of this type of conversation either, but she can't find it in her to laugh the way Stef does. Her gaze fixes on the other black conduit host, her head tilting.
She isn't looking at Stef, but something beyond her. Through her. In her. It's a trick she knows well, after all.
Edward watches Destiny’s approach out of the corner of his eyes. The invitation for her to join him on the rusted hood of the car is nonverbal, a little pat by his side. Stef observes the gesture and excuses herself from his company, moving to separate from the group, arms wound around herself and blue eyes focused out on the ruins across the river. Edward tracks that movement, but soon returns his attention to Destiny.
“We should…” Edward begins to say to her, pausing only momentarily to smile to himself, “go for a walk later. At the next stop. Just… stretch our legs.” His attention stays fixed on the horizon. He never thought he’d have the opportunity to do any of these things. Let alone with Destiny. It almost feels like making up for lost time, if the situation weren’t so serious. “I never did get to do a proper road trip with my family. I’m not sure this counts, but… I’d like to make it.”
Nearby, Nate has settled onto his sneakered feet but has stayed beside where Spades was. He looks around with childish bewilderment and then a bright smile. He thinks it’s a game. “TEN!” Nate yells. “NINE!” He covers his eyes. Those are the rules after all. “EIGHT!” He still peeks, though. “SEVEN!” Clearly this is hide and seek. “SIX!”
Well, if Spades had any intention of rematerializing, it's widely vanished now. He continues to migrate further from the boy, through vehicles, loosely taking up position on the other side and around of the vehicle Edward is perched on top of.
Destiny lifts herself up onto the hood and nods her head, silent for a long moment. She never thought she’d have this kind of connection again after her dad died. (Both of them.) “A walk sounds nice.” With a little sigh, she leans over and tips her head onto Edward’s shoulder. “I’d ask if you’re okay, but I don’t think you are. I’m not.” She lets out a breath of wry laughter. “I don’t think any of us are.”
She shifts a little closer. “Are relationships always so complicated?” she asks softly. “Or is it just… all of this?” She means this road trip at the second end of the world. Her brows furrow when Nate starts counting loudly and she grimaces. Spades is not going to be amused.
From behind Stef, Eve's voice whispers from the cloud, "Something's different dearie." She manifests her physical form and stands beside the woman, crimson eyes flick to try and catch Nat's gaze before whispering even softer. "Whatever you need…" The pale woman trails off. Gillian, Stef, whomever it is knows that Eve would do whatever for her sister across the universes.
The tall woman falls silent and stares out across the river where Stef seems to be looking.
"I'll watch the little one in the meantime, yes?" Tugging her gaze away from ruins and water to look at Nate playing as the young ones should have the luxury to do.
“I’m just the pressure-release valve,” Stef says with a side-long look at Eve. “This whole trip is a lot. Worrying about him,” she says with a nod toward Nate as he begins spiraling up into the air, still counting, “is a lot. Love is hard, it’s work, and…” She shrugs. “It’s entirely worth it. Sometimes, everybody just needs a break. Road trips are hard,” she admits with a knowing smile. “Sometimes its easier to let someone else drive for a little while.”
When Nate’s sneakered foot accidentally comes into swift contact with the back of Tay’s head, playtime has officially ended.
“Okay mister.” Tay bellows, grabbing Nate by the belt at the back of his pants, holding on to the boy like an errant balloon. “C’mon, it ain’t safe for hide n’ seek out here.” Nate isn’t much phased, he honestly expected to be told to stop a while ago, and just wanted to see how long he could get away with being exactly the way he is.
Edward, watching Tay and Nate at a distance, slowly blinks a look back over to Destiny. He’s been thinking about her question for a long while now, watching everyone from the convoy socializing. Listening to the laughter erupting from Nate as he’s hauled around in one hand by Tay. A moment of normalcy.
“I don’t know,” is Edward’s reply to her. The look in his eyes says he wishes he did. That he wishes he had all the answers for her, like when she was younger. But he doesn’t.
“I don’t think anybody does.”