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| Scene Title | Two Weeks |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Sable knows where she wants to spend her two weeks away from the Garden, but when she arrives at Dee's she finds an unexpected - and rather sharp - new feature at her place. |
| Date | January 8, 2011 |
The Octagon - Delilah's Apartment
The apartments of the Octagon are among some of the most prime pieces of rental real-estate in New York City. Bright, open, and clean, these apartments are all painted an eggshell white and feature floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a sweeping, unobstructed view of the East River and Manhattan skyline. Hardwood floors spread from wall to wall and through the spacious bedrooms and private laundry rooms complete with washer/dryer utilities.
The open-concept kitchen in the apartment features stainless steel appliances, polished granite countertops, cherry finished cabinets and ceramic floor tile with all the convenience of a modern kitchen. The bathrooms are finished with classic subway wall tile and porcelain floor tile in bathrooms with elegantly designed corner-set curved showers wproviding more spacious shower area along with porcelain pedestal sinks.
Each apartment comes in two or three bedroom designs, each with spacious walk-in closets with individually controlled heating and cooling. The apartment is also set up with free Cable TV and Internet hook-ups in multiple locations.
It's a very good thing no one knows to look for Sable. Distinctively featured like few can be, the diminutive rocker has, at least, no real record to her. An outstanding fine of several hundred dollars earns her a rather firm reprimand at the checkpoint, but as her infraction is far from criminal, she's let past with an awkward, harmless grin on her face, one that lasts as long as she feels the eyes of the Man upon her. It drops away quickly afterwards as she hustles on, grateful only in the most fractional of ways that being registered can, at least, get her passage to where she's going.
I'll be frank, this feels like a sort of pilgrimage to Sable. Past months have been nothing but trouble, past weeks the very exemplars of that principle, and she's unsure just how long it's been since she's made this trek to a place she'd dared to beg extended entrance to. Mostly clean from the shower at the motel she's been holed up in, but looking a little light on sleep, a little dark under the eyes thanks to her lack of any make up ever, she's not exactly looking like hot product. And normally she would kind of care, kind of a lot really, but right now she's got one thing in mind: see Dee.
Other shit's kinda just details.
Trudging the last steps to the Octagon, she actually slumps in the corner of the elevator after pressing the button for the third floor, closing her eyes as the floor presses up under her, lifting her Delilah-ward. When the elevator 'dings' open, she cracks open just one eyelid before hauling herself up and half stumbling out. The door to 301 is not far, not far at all, and she basically jogs the final distance before steadying herself in front of the apartment, one hand going up instinctively but pointlessly to brush back her hair, before she knocks, three times.
It takes just a moment for Sable to hear Walter's fussing from before she got there, and then the snuffling and scraping of Samson on the other side of the door; nobody has been over lately, so he is cautious in his sniffing at the bottom crack. After another moment he gives a small bark, rumbling around while Delilah has the time to make her way to the door and peek through the eyehole. She nearly hits herself swinging the door open, brown eyes filled with puzzlement, but she knees the excited beast of a dog out of the way so Sable can get inside. "You look like crap today." So helpful.
"Come on in." Not that Dee really gives her a chance, tugging on her coat and all but trying to yank her inside. The apartment is not too different; less of Else's leftover things, certainly, as Dee is still in the process of sending over what her parents wanted. For the most part, however, those things have been replaced by baby things here and there, and of course, the baby himself, on a blanket in the middle of the living room area. He seems to be angry about something or other, rocking from side to side and batting his hands and legs in the air in front of him. "He hates it when I get him rolling over like that, but likes it when I put him down on his stomach, go figure." The only thing a person of detail would note, besides the baby stuff spilling out of his nursery, would be the thing set up on a metal stand where Else's extensive sound system used to be.
Now, a katana isn't exactly babyproof, but it is secure enough and high enough that only adults can reach it, much less draw it. It is and isn't a plain thing; at first it seems to be only brassy and dark brown decor, but upon closer inspection there are Chinese designs engraved into the metal parts, and a decorative purple saego at the base of the sheath gives it the aura of something far more stately than just a sword. A purple cloth hangs from a pebbled ivory ray-skin hilt, stilled over the top of the surface below, by a pair of odd metal charms. It is a strange, if effective, art piece.
She looks like wha- woah! Sable finds herself being hauled inside, a stupid grin fixing itself on her lips despite herself (not that there is much to despite). She lets momentum take her, the tiredness in her limbs serving as excuse to bump up against Delilah. 'Whoops'. The puffy material of the winter coat squishes between them as Sable slings her arms around the taller woman and gives her a very hearty squeeze, following by a peck on the jaw.
"With you lookin' so good, darlin'," Sable says, hitting the ground running, "someone's gotta take over lookin' terrible, don't they?" She grins. Cheeseball. But Dee knows what to expect by now.
With reluctance tempered by necessity, Sable unzips her jacket, revealing her usual shabby tanktop and cargo pants ensemble beneath. Padding over to hang up her coat, demonstrating admirable tidiness likely to show just how good a housemate she really can be, dangit, she casts a glance over her shoulder, dark ringed eyes looking bright and cheerful for all her obvious fatigue.
"Hell 'f a couple nights, late like f'r reasons I don't much care for," she says, by way of explaining her appearance, "practical upshot though, darlin', is that I'm two weeks off th' job." She turns, pads back to Delilah, taking her waist in her pale hands. Her fingernails have small shadows in them as well. Deep set soot. "Thinkin' mebbe I could spend 'em here? Givin' you a hand 'round th' house?" Big smile. Hopeful eyes.
Eyes that dart over to the baby, after a moment. "Little man's particular. Makes sense. Mumzy's got a way 'f doin' things all her own, don't she?" She beams at Delilah, though in another second she's caught sight of… the sword? "…Jesus. Definitely got yer own warrior's fuckin' way, dontcha? When'd that thing show up, eh?" She nods in the direction of what, in Sable's mind, would be called a 'ninja sword'.
Delilah plants a kiss on Sable's temple before the smaller girl goes to hang her coat. She's still there when Sable turns back, of course. There is a mote of concern in what she's told now, lips pursing slightly as she processes. Two weeks off the job? It can mean a couple things, but considering where Sable has been- "I told you that it would be okay, didn't I?" Lilah lets out a short laugh. Samson has been sniffing around at Sable's feet for however long she's been inside, and only now does he wander over to the baby blanket and put himself down along one end of it. Walter watches the dog pass overhead in the process, turning his eyes to look when Samson lies down. It shuts him up for the most part, any sounds coming out now sounds of want rather than complaint. He is also trying his damndest now to roll over to get a better look.
"Hm?" Dee was watching Samson instead of Sable at the time she caught a look, so she has to visibly follow the gesture this time. "Oh. That- you remember the old guy at my baby shower? With the big package?" That should probably explain a few things other than where it came from, perhaps.
It's a mote that Sable doesn't want to see further expand, and while silence might produce more worry, a change in topic, provided already, will hopefully serve the purpose. She grins a little crookedly. "Jus' checkin', love," she says, "ain't gonna jus' come crashin' through your door. Y'all don't presume on a lady, 't least y' don't if yer a proper gentleman."
Whether Sable could be rightfully called either proper or a gentleman under any terms is a debate for others, at other times. She stoops to give Samson a greeting scratch, continuing to respect the big dog's dominion, her own canine empathy much sharpened in the past weeks. Lucky thing Sable managed to get the dog smell out. Some warts shouldn't be asked to be overlooked.
"Uh…" Sable says, sending her mind all the way back then, into the mists of a past she tends to purposefully keep hazy but for the few illuminated points, shining brightly in the otherwise-foggy. "Creepy feller with th' beard?" So yes, she does remember.
Delilah stifles a laugh, going over to sit down on the floor with the dog and the baby, tucking her skirt under her. The aforementioned dog relaxes into the floor, his front legs perched like a sphinx. The cropped ears on his head are tilted forward, and he watches Walter intently with those big brown eyes. Walter gets himself turned over well enough, peering down the surface of the floor towards giant paws.
"Yeah. His name is Samson Gray." Incidental first names, insofar as Dee knows. "He'd been telling me some weird things, I'd been hearing some weird things from weird people… and with that, he told me 'he'll need that'. Came with a book too. Some Musashi thing. I don't really know much about that kind of thing. But if he had a reason to leave that thing with us, I may as well take care of it."
Sable toddles over and takes a crosslegged sit on the ground, hands resting on her knees as she peers at Walter, trying to suss out what possible use an infant could have for a sword. Of course, it doesn't take too long for her brain to suggest to her that maybe it's for a future date, maybe when he's older. I mean, Sable gifted that gardening set, so maybe it's sort of like that.
Only with deadly blades instead of pretty flowers.
"Book?" Sable inquires, looking back over at Delilah, "y'all got it on hand t' gander at? Or is it, like, in Chinese or whatever?" Showing off the vast breadths of her cultural knowledge and sensitivity, as always.
"I do, hold on. It isn't in Japanese, it's basically-" Delilah pops up again, wandering across towards her own room. "-a book about sword strategy and philosophy, from the sixteen-hundreds. I've flipped through it, but I'm not that interested in martial arts." She disappears into her room for just a moment, knowing exactly where it is. She comes back with the book, which can barely be 100 pages thick, and hands it to Sable while sitting back down.
"He's Gabriel's father, so he must have a reason for doing whatever he does. I just have no idea what he means by all this yet." Delilah does have inklings, but nothing that she wishes to voice out loud. "I haven't seen Samson lately either, he used to come around every so often."
The very slightly grubby girl takes the book in her hands, turning it over and flipping it open to a middle page. Lips quirking to the side and reading in the methodical mode of someone who is badly out of practice with reading.
"To Know the Times, 'To know the times' means to know th' enemy's disposition in battle. Is it flour- flourishin' or wanin'? By observin' the spirit of th' enemy's men and gettin' th' best position, y' can work out th' enemy's disposition and move yer men accordin'ly. You can win through this principle 'f strategy, fighting from a position 'f advantage."
Sable looks up from the text, brows furrowed. "…I dunno what's weirder t' get f'r a baby. That sword, or this here thing," she lifts the book, making it clear she's talking about the Miyamoto, "shouldn't he be gettin', like, th' rolly poly puppies read t' him? 'r, like… dunno… Bible stories?"
"Oh, he's got loads of normal books. There's a bookshelf in his room, most of them were shower gifts and what not- smart friends I think." Delilah gets down on her stomach and lays down nearly opposite of her son. He looks up sideways at her and smiles, and she gets down there nearer him and murmurs something secretive into his ear.
"If I read him bible stories they are the watered down versions- I don't want to force anything on him, even if his grandparents-" Yes, he has some of those- "are Catholic. Like, Italian Catholic, not Sundays outside of football Catholic." The redhead rolls herself around a little on the blanket spread out, babytalking at Walter, who offers commentary in the usual breathy giggles and puffs.
"I got a copy of Renard the Fox from my aunt- my parents used to read me that and I just loved those stories to death. She thought he would too. Probably."
"Naw, some Bible stories are jus' cool," Sable says, "Jesus c'n wait 'til yer teachin' 'bout right 'n' wrong. When yer a kid y' want t' hear 'bout David 'n' Goliath," she cracks a smile, "Samson 'n' Delilah, too, though all that'll do is teach 'em not t' trust women."
"Like, th' Jew parts," is what Sable means, specifically. She tilts her head. "Shit, yeah, th' Italians are Papist. Th', like, fuckin' pope is Italian, right?" Well, okay, no, that's not true but…
Yellow eyes narrow as she spots Delilah murmuring secrets in her son's ear. "Hey now, that ain't hardly polite! Or is this family type talk?" She wrinkles her nose, put-offness too staged to be honestly felt. As betrayed by her smile, moments after. She offers the book to Walter - it's his, right? - then sets it aside when he doesn't start reading immediately. There if he wants to take a peek. Sable scoots over, closer to Delilah, snagging her foot and grinning up at her. "Some stories are told in song, eh? Peter 'n' th' Wolf?"
"The bible is good for morality stories, yeah. I can't have this name and say I've never read it. I think he'll like to hear about Joshua." Comes with the territory, the name thing. Delilah snickers when Sable grabs her foot, and the dog nearby shifts himself to bellycrawl over to the small woman. Hey! He is totally the referee. "Carnival of the Animals, Peter and the Wolf- I've played those for him." She lies still for a few moments, letting Walter peer in her face before he topples onto his back again. Lots of bodies suddenly on the floor, in any case. It looks silly, but it is totally reasonably.
"What do you say, Walter? Should we let Sable in on our family talk?" Dee peeks overhead of his face, and he just reaches out and puts his palm in her eye. That might be a yes, she can't tell.
Sable sets both her hands on Delilah's captive foot, thumbs pressing in what becomes a light massage. An affectionate little fidget, born of ease. The nervousness that previously had resurged seems to have recede since then. Sable is soothed.
"Come on!" Sable says, offering her most plaintive, willing grin, "little runt'll have me 'round often 'nough, if there's any goodness in th' world. I might 's well be Aunt Sable. Aunt's 'n' uncles 'r' s'pposed t' be a bit cracked, eh?" Suggesting that her eccentricity recommends her, now that's an interesting strategy.
Delilah loves foot rubs, as evident back when she was pregnant, she probably got one anytime possible. Now it is just one of those things. "I wasn't actually saying anything, really, I just wanted to see if you'd want to know." Teehee. She leans over Walter again, speaking up this time. "Hells yes we want her to be Aunt Sable, right? Yeah. You're going to have so many weird aunts and uncles, aren't you? Maybe one will teach you how to drive a helicopter or something. Teach you some roundhouse kicks. How to build a house in ten days, how to stitch bulletwounds, how to talk to woodland creatures…"
Sable keeps at the rub, scooting closer still, legs shifting to fold under and to one side of her. "How t' rock th' world 'n' fight th' Man," Sable declares, making clear her contribution, or how she interprets it, "shootin' fireworks off rooftops 'n' film hoppin' when it's th' summer 'n' everythin's all flash 'n' skimp." A good influence, you can already tell.
"Gotta ask though, darlin'…" Sable says, brows lifting, "keepin' that sword around, that book… thass more 'r less admittin' straight out that he's gonna go on t' use it, eh? Y'all okay with that? A sword ain't made t' heal, nor forged t' reap wheat 'r nothing. That th' future y' fear f'r him?"
"Yes." Delilah admits a great many things, and this is something she has only admitted recently. Now, actually, was the first time. "I stuffed it in the closet at first. But it seemed to inch out day by day til it was in here. I did realize that some things can't be avoided- that his future is going to be rough. So that is why I pray that I'm wrong. Or if I'm right, that I am right in raising him. You know I'm not one to emo all over the place-"
"-But even I have to admit something like that once in awhile. A sword ain't made to heal, no, but it is made to protect." Not strike, not fight, not kill- protect. "It's more useful than giving him a shield, I suppose, if Samson had to give me something so bizarre. Unless it was like, Captain America's shield, then he'd be a regular Bucky."
"Y'all know I follow th' way 'f love," Sable says, brow furrowing in a line of true seriousness, "but th' world ain't got only love in it. Mebbe some day, but I know if ever anyone did any wrong, caused any harm, t' those I love… I'd do what it took. T' protect 'em.
"So yeah, I dig. Or naw… I don't dig. Nothin' 'bout it is groovy. But he's gonna grow up t' be strong, 'n' t' do good, and wheat reapin' won't cure all the ills 'f this world." Sable blinks, though, at the comic reference. She squints at Delilah, skeptical. "Y'all really did spend a lot 'f time with my boy. Jesus, but I fear th' day I start talkin' dork," she grins, wickedly, then lunges over to press a kiss to Delilah's cheek. Just joking around! Bwaha.
"The way of love prevails. And I was into it before him! I swear." Delilah laughs past the intrusion that is Sable, the baby peering up to watch them wobble around. Samson, on the other hand, thinks this progression is absolutely unnecessary and lets out a rumbling growl, tail wagging like a windshield wiper.
"Oh hush, Sam, you'll get yours I bet, lemme have her for a minute." The redhead reprimands her canine companion before wriggling off to the side of the blanket and linking her arms around Sable.
Sable fairly glees as she finds herself in Dee's arms, her own slipping to enclose the other woman. A tilt of her chin, and she's bumping her nose against Delilah's cheek. There's an aspect of simple giddiness to Sable's behavior that bespeaks her degree of pride and excitement. One can tell the degree to which Delilah's affections are an aspiration, and a gift.
She nod at the dog, "don' worry, hound. Ain't gonna do her no harm, promise. I hope, rather, t' sweeten her temper," yellow eyes cut over to the redhead , "given half th' chance." Walter is considered momentarily before Sable asks, "he wake up often at night, bawlin'? Y'all know, y' c'n wake me if I'm still asleep, I'll take care 'f it. New Mom don't sleep so good, I know that. I'd love t' give y' a few nights' ease."
Delilah's response is a frightening one- a glint in her eyes, a smirk on her lips, a devious quirk to her brows. "You'd do that, would you?" Note that she doesn't say if he wakes up much. In truth, he has nights where he will wake up all the time, and others where he will just snooze in the right allotment of hours for Dee to not wake up and stumble over the dog instead of walking out of her room. Walter aims his hand out to grab at the tall dog in the distance. Want.
"I'd really appreciate that."
Sable lifts a hand, slipping it into Delilah's hair, swooping it back behind her ear. She gives the younger woman a rather earnest look. Goofing around over, if just for the moment. "Can't think, darlin' 'f what I wouldn't do f'r you, my mortal type limits admitted," she says, and places a kiss on Delilah's lips, quick and light. "I had a long fuckin' couple days. May wanna lie on down. Y'all c'n let me rest my eyes, but, y' know, if y' wanna keep me company… got catchin' up t' do, surely, long 's we've been apart."
"I think we could all use a nap." She says this with an almost telepathic cue, because Walter is wrinkling up his little face into an unpleasant little 'neh'. "Some of us a little more lunch than others." A small peck back and Delilah is slipping away from Sable to get up, taking Walter up with her. "You can get cleaned up too, if you want to, and I can feed him a little. It's about time for him to go down anyway, I think…"
Sable clambers to her feet, shoulders rolling, wincing a bit. She was relaxing, it was nice, and that very relaxation makes her realize how stiff she. How tense she's been, all that stress and suppressed fear going somewhere, having to. Feeling it is part of losing, it though. "Arright, darlin'," she says, starting to amble in the direction of the bathroom, "if I don' finish 'n' find you first, love, y'all feel free t' come 'n' find me." She beams. "Good t' be here. Like you dunno."