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 Posted: Thu Aug 07, 2014 6:51 pm
Zia slipped through the front door of her home, side eyeing just slightly over her shoulder for the briefest second before she kicked the door shut behind her and knelt down to pet Dodge the rottweiler mix all grown up. The demon puppy who used to eat both of their shoes when they were roommates was now a lumbering, lazy fuzz bucket who still loyally waited by the door right on schedule when it was time for Zia to routinely return home.
The lights needed to be turned on. She realized with an uncertain frown that meant Chester was probably out and about which meant she was going to pace obsessively in worry and pretend she totally didn’t know about the things he did out in the world.
But there were other things on her mind and she walked through the staged and styled home with purpose.
The rote nature of her routine was clear as she took off her shoes, lit up the kitchen, started the faucet and preheated the oven. She went to the knife block with careful considering and selected one that fit in her thin hands and nodded a bit as she checked its feel and nodded to herself when she concluded it was satisfactory. However, instead of turning it on whatever she had on the cutting board wrapped in butcher’s paper, she vanished from her kitchen and found herself pressing the point just enough to be felt in the back of a figure she had seen skulking around the property.
For all appearances, Za was just as paranoid as ever. Very likely more. “You have three seconds to explain what you’re doing here, because I’m pretty sure you followed me home,” She said before allowing any chance for introduction. She had moved fast, and was jarred by the fact Dodge had not completely lost his mind at a strange presence on the property.
But once that split second of a moment was over, she dropped her arms to her side, looking at the blonde hair and craning her neck to see and confirm with her mouth agape.
“...Xan?”Quote: “Hey to you too.” Xanthus froze like a statue at the tip of the knife, having no doubt that Zee could use it, and he was pretty sure it would be even harder to lay low if he was bleeding out from an impaled kidney. “Sorry I was trying to make sure you didn’t have company. I’m in a bit of a bind. I kinda hope I’m not in a worse one.” He hoped the last bit was a joke. He didn’t think he could power up fast enough to put armor between Zee’s knife and his back. Especially not now. It had been a much more tiring night than he’d planned. His blond hair was still long, a short braid at the back of his neck because it was easier not to deal with it, and he needed a shave, except in the place on the side of his jaw and neck where something with wicked claws had left white lines from what appeared to be an attempt to hook up and under his jaw to find vital things, but had failed by some act of a higher power, and he was glad his clothing covered much of the rest. As much as they might count as faintly impressive when combined with his armor, he didn’t think Zia would see them in quite the same way. “I’m really sorry. I wouldn’t be here if I thought there was another option.Pretty sure you’re the only one that knows I’m here right now. I’m sorry for following you.” He’d caught a glimpse of her, and figured it was his best option, too tired to fight his way out past another patrol, he couldn’t afford the attention, and as hard as it was to get to his wonder these days, definitely couldn’t afford to pass out for who knew how long in a ruin when someone might need him.
"You look like a scruffy hobo, what are you doing in the city?" After years of separation and no contact, that was what Zia ultimately hissed at him while she closed the door and looked out the peephole to be doubly sure no one was watching. Stress and a very detectable hint of fear strained in her voice.
The home she derisively called her picket fence-- even with a lack of literal pickets-- was engineered down to the last detail to look normal. Typical. Suburban and well-to-do. So accurately it almost seemed wrong, like it was trying too hard.
"How are you going to get out without someone seeing you?" She asked like it was just understood he would be leaving immediately.Quote: “By waiting till they pass and getting some steam back.” Was the concise, if weary sounding answer. She wasn’t going to kick him out. It was Zee. She was just steamed, she’d get over it. “Hey Dodge, you hairy monster..” He couldn’t think of the last time he’d seen his cats, they hadn’t been inclined to come with him, and he was pretty sure Mac was the father of new generations of street giants that probably could take out Youma on their own. It was nice to imagine that anyway. Harder to imagine that the huge old Tom might be gone. “We were running a mission. Split up from the rest of the group to keep our tail off the others, and just kind of… miscalculated having enough energy to get back out of town. But hey… workin’ with a team right?” That was a big improvement over the way he’d been once, he was pretty sure of this, even if she might not approve of his tendency to act as bait any more than Themiscara did. He just felt… well… responsible. More so if he wasn’t fast enough, or strong enough, and he absently picked at thin scar lines on his palm and fingers, long since turned into delicate white traces. He had not forgotten failing Degrasse. He would never forget failing Degrasse. “I was careful. “
"I-- wha--... N-no I can't be caught harboring a terrorist."
A phrase that once would've been worryingly out of character slipped out without even trying to hide the fear. "I have to start dinner, my husband should be home soon," She added as if these were reasons he should hurry up and exit.
Almost to prove her point she strutted past him to the kitchen and did her best not to make eye contact. For a second, he seemed to get to her. Just a glimpse, how he had aged, his different hair, something and someone who had once been so intensely comfortable and familiar wrapped up in foreign changes. And her distance was her fault, she knew that. But that was the price of territorial stubbornness and her total loss of will to fight the complacency.
"This isn't a safehouse anymore, unless you can provide hazard pay," She said, as if the action of smoothing out her blouse steeled what resolve faltered in that flash of regret.
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Posted: Fri Aug 08, 2014 7:14 am
"So start dinner." His voice turned a bit crisp, a bit chilly, and he instantly regretted it, and it showed. "Zee I wouldn't be here if I thought I had another option." Had she really changed her mind? Did she really think he was a terrorist? Was she actually going to kick him out? He might make it out, but he wasn't sure that he or the hospital could afford the damage. "Is that really where we're at? What, you want me to power up so I can go pawn my helmet or something?" He had nothing of value to offer her that he could think of, and was only joking about powering up. It would bring far more attention than they could afford. Even frustrated at her, he didn't want to put her in danger. "You like information right? What you want our casualty rates? How many people came to us because their family conveniently vanished? I can get you numbers. He didn't want to sound so damn angry. He regretted it, but he didn't quite seem to be able to stop. Everyone was affected differently but he hated seeing her like this. She was Zia the fierce who sat on rooftops and had snarky conversations with agents about dropping cigarette butts on people. Not... not Zia the desperately afraid and suburban.
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Posted: Fri Aug 08, 2014 7:49 am
Zia had moved to the counter and busied herself in the kitchen as he spoke to her. While his figure was in full view across the open space, she did her best to avoid looking directly at him.
All the ferocity she was prepared to defend her home with when she thought he was a random stranger had vanished and instead she was ducking eye contact and her mouth pressed in a straight, thin line of displeasure. The knife she was prepared to gut him with was washed and put to work on the cutting board instead.
"I don't want to know that," She snapped and slammed the colander down when he mentioned the casualties. She hadn't expected her defenses to raise to harshly, but something about it felt like an assault. Too much of the outside world slipping in to her corner.
The recovery made her stop and glance down, visibly unsettled with just the slightest hint of shame.
"One night," She conceded in a quiet and terse murmur.
At least Dodge seemed absolutely pleased as punch, curl tail flopping every which way as he paced. He seemed oblivious to the tension, or that there was always tension and he had just thought nothing of it these days. He was actually something of a useful guard dog when there were people Zia didn't want around but his dog logic said Xanthus clearly wasn't one of them. Because it was Xanthus! And his shoes were probably still delicious.
Zia seemed to brave another direct glance at him and quickly stopped it. He was older. He looked like a refugee in her mind. And that killed her. She had no more urges to drag him home, to play with his hair, to make sure he was eating well or had a safe bed for the night but she remembered he had those urges, once. That there was a time when the thought of him not being there every day was a terrifying thing to her. And the memory of those feelings seemed nauseating, because they weren't there anymore and she hated that.
But those days were over and they needed to stay over.
Her sharp movements suddenly ceased when she realized there was a case of beer that hadn't been put in the fridge. Lazily left in the corner and forgotten. She stopped at it, and seemed to falter as if it was a great obstacle she shouldn't overcome. She gave Xanthus another weary glance and then nodded her head to it before moving on, "But at least make yourself useful and pick that up."
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Posted: Fri Aug 08, 2014 8:20 am
All the bluster went out of him almost as fast as it had come, and his shoulders sagged wearily, just enough to hint that he was, as he claimed, exhausted to the bone from whatever he had been doing, and he stooped to ruffle the dogs ears. Compared to the desperation of the camps it was nice to see an animal in good health and happiness. "One night and I'm gone." He promised. Things changed even when you didn't want them to. He let his hands drop from showering the dog with attention and moved over to get the case of beer and put it in the fridge with a level of obedience not even trying to make an attempt to filch one, stealthy or not.
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Posted: Fri Aug 08, 2014 8:30 am
"Unpack it, please," Zia gave orders like she was used to being the boss, and she was! There was a small crew at 17 Waverly that occasionally needed to be ordered around, but unlike when Noah ran it, she was content to let the business self sustain for a few days at a time. She still found occasional solace by maintaining small things at night after hours, but it could function without a constant presence.
The orders came more naturally, too. Lift this, move that, reach for that, carry that. With Xanthus around, Zia seemed to have a mental to-do list she didn't mind putting on him, and it seemed to mostly revolve around being allergic to heavy lifting and she never seemed to reach or strain herself for anything.
On the surface it seemed like almost spoiled behavior, but Zia wasn't going to volunteer the information that it was due to the fact she physically couldn't.
Aside from orders, she didn't seem to make any conversation, but after a while she seemed to get up the effort to. "Are... are you surviving out there?"
There was really no delicate or smooth way to ask so how long do you think you'll last?
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Posted: Fri Aug 08, 2014 9:07 am
"We're getting by. Valhalla thinks he can get through to the GK's and make peace talks, but that's like being half way down the Anaconda's throat and asking "Hey why don't we order pizza instead. I like Pepperoni, how about you?" He snorted as he started unpacking the case. "...I get why he wants it, but if he makes out like the rest of us are taking the easy road one more time I'm going to break his ******** nose..." In spite of the grump, he managed to put things away without a single loud 'bang' to underline his point. "Ida, you know... Purple People Eater with the Orchids? She went princess a while back. Went the glow in the dark route like Babylon too." Not information that could hurt them too much. Ida would only be trackable in short intense bursts, those muffled by her cats and their 'elephant under a baby blanket'. The could have used Zirconia's magic, but he wouldn't ask. He didn't know the odds on how long they would last. He tried not to think about it, but he knew their chances were slim. If they surrendered, they would corrupt who they could, by force or coercion, and the rest... the rest would be destroyed like an animal nuisance.
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Posted: Fri Aug 08, 2014 9:17 am
The mention of Valhalla's name was enough to make her halt and grip her kitchen tools a bit more tightly. She didn't like how foreign he sounded with the knowledge that at one point he was literally the boy next door with a decade of teenhood friendship behind them.
Now she shouldn't venture to guess what he even looked like.
She did her best to shake it off and go back to cooking.
"...I don't think it's easy," Was all she murmured as if that would comfort him. She couldn't handle refugee life. Given how limited she was now, she wasn't sure she would survive refugee life. Physically fragile, and with the dream like trances Zirconia's memories put her in getting more intense even if infrequent, she couldn't trust her mind to stay intact either.
"A-and you?"
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Posted: Sat Aug 09, 2014 4:06 pm
He paused trying to figure out how to best answer that one. "Still alive, still got all my parts." He tried to make this sound more humorous than it really was under the circumstances, but honestly, he was surprised he'd lived this long. Dying... he wasn't really sure how he felt about the posibillity. It was more of an 'again'... really... he'd been dead once. He'd been reborn. Harder to be scared of something when you knew you might have a decent chance of going for round three... but that wasn't what he was worried about. There was also corruption... having your starseed destroyed... but worse... leaving people in the lurch. People who needed you. "Honestly there isn't an easy way, right now." He added. He knew they could use her help, knew her abilities could make an impact that could shake things up, maybe more so than the Dark Mirror court working with them (god she would ********' hate that he imagined...), but there wasn't an easy way. And having her involved put her in danger. Being here put her in danger. Everything was people in danger and he was still not fast enough to help everyone. "I keep trying to help people. It drives me crazy. I used to be so damn proud of going fast and it feels like the more I try the slower I am. The less I can help." He didn't even realize the words had slipped out at first, and when he did, he froze, guilty. His father... or as close to a father a he had any memory of, a man dead since before the fall of the Moon Kingdom... he could almost feel his bristling black scowl of disapproval. You did not admit weakness on the battlefield The city was a battlefield and the enemy would not hesitate to use any flaws against you of which they were aware. Like friends. Like ugly little pieces of guilt.
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Posted: Sat Aug 09, 2014 5:50 pm
Zia seemed to be trying to force herself to be more absorbed in cooking, shuffling her position around his in the kitchen.
The warm scent of garlic and herbs helped slightly, but not much, when it came to trying to push out the visions of all the ugliness of the world at war outside. It didn't stop her from heaping him a massive plate and handing it over as a weird, silent offering. They had plenty. She could only imagine he'd be distraught if he saw the storage in the basement, or that he might be disgusted if he saw the pantry at 17's.
But here the least she could do was overload his plate for dinner.
"You're pushing yourself too hard, the fact you're even trapped here at all means you're taking stupid risks," She told him. "And you look like you haven't had a shave or a bath in ages."
It was meant to be kind of a joke but it ended up falling flat.
There was an awkward pause. Crushing silence.
Then eventually "Luxor still patrols. Sometimes he braves a donation to the resistance. I feel like I'm going to die every time."
She started with that as if to reveal she seemed to be the only one who stood her ground. Who cut ties with the resistance and made sure they stayed cut. "Do... you think I'm awful for keeping my distance?"
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Posted: Sun Aug 10, 2014 6:43 am
Kairatos opened his mouth to say something at the offer, then only looked more embarrassed a second later when his stomach growled more loudly than he had anticipated. Food was tight at the camps, stolen or foraged, and just the smell of actual seasonings, something that had to, by necessity, come second to sustenance... was enough to make him almost light headed with hunger. He had to swallow before he could talk even, since drooling on yourself while having a conversation was just... kind of sad. "God that smells amazing." He sighed,trying to politely take rather than ravenously grab the offered plate. "You have no idea how much you miss this stuff..." He started, then shut up quietly for a moment. "...Water's a hard resource to come by. Hard to justify using it on personal grooming." He admitted. She didn't want to know these things, but he didn't want to lie to her either. "...And everyone he helps appreciates it. Some of them probably even owe him their lives." He looked down at his plate, wanting to dive in, but he wasn't sure he deserved it when he wasn't sure he could tell her anything she really wanted to hear. "...I think you're...." He stopped. Tried again. "I think it's slow suicide in here. But that doesn't mean it's not a faster suicide out there. I can't pretend to know what the powers behind the Negaverse have in mind for the long run... but I know what I found on Mars. I know what I saw on Mercury. I saw empty worlds. Places where the only thing order could save was their souls and the empty places they used to live, and I know that if it can... Chaos will take even that. It'll take the ruins and the rubble and the ghosts and turn it all to dust. I can understand being scared of what will happen out there... but if you ever changed your mind... I know you could make a difference, just like Luxor does. Maybe more. But No one can make that the right decision for you except you."
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Posted: Sun Aug 10, 2014 8:11 am
"It's not that complicated," Zia said with a shrug. She was never much of a cook years ago, but Alfheim died, and that changed things a little. Offering food was always the default system of comfort used by both siblings, but on her own Zia had to pony up and learn how to actually cook for herself.
After all these years she was ready to consider herself not-terrible at it.
When he hesitated diving in she made a small, urging gesture, clearly disagreeing with his assessment. There was a certain level of protective nature lingering, and in it the urge to shove stuff down his throat if he wouldn't feed himself. She told him once that he was always going to be her charge, no matter what. But no matter what apparently didn't count when she cut ties ages ago.
She let silence linger after his sentiments. And then out of nowhere as she was casually folding and smoothing a dishtowel, "Alfheim's dead."
An exhaled huff, "I can't survive on the run, I can't even survive in my own home without asking for your help reaching or lifting or moving things. If I follow my instincts then I want to tell him to stop, stay home. Quit helping."
She paused and fiddled with the microfiber corners, "It's humiliating, though. Showing up for the rallies, letting them drain me, and every ay I wonder if I'm going to be the one who brings our destruction down on our house because I couldn't help myself, because I couldn't keep my mouth shut."
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Posted: Sun Aug 10, 2014 12:06 pm
"Complicated or not it still smells amazing." Kairatos sighed, and being hungry won out over 'is it appropriate to eat in front of the person whose emotions you're stomping on' and he started eating, listening to her talk as he ate in a manner that would seem to indicate he half expected to be interrupted or have it taken away. He slowed, swallowed, and put his fork down on the plate he was still clutching in his other hand before he spoke quietly.They "...I'm sorry." He'd kinda liked Alfheim, he was an ok guy, and he knew for all their fighting he'd meant something to her. And to others. "You know I'd help you more if I didn't think it would put you in more danger. Much as I'm guilty of it, it's not a contest to do everything on your own. I've even been working with teams." As many of them came back injured, some of them with missing limbs or eyes... he couldn't imagine them letting anyone fall through the cracks, even Zia. Especially Zia.
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Posted: Sun Aug 10, 2014 6:50 pm
Zia stopped compulsively folding the dishtowel and raised one eyebrow at him. "It's not about doing things on my own," She said and started loosening buttons on her blouse with little explanation.
But she turned her back to him and tugged the collar of her shirt down enough to show that her back was mostly a mess of scar tissue and matted incision marks that had long since healed over roughly.
"I was just with someone they were arresting. I told him it would be okay, that patrolling wasn't any big deal. I pushed him to go out that night and when the officer showed up I thought we'd get hauled to prison. I didn't think he was going to die. I don't know why, I just never thought..."
She turned around and started buttoning her shirt back up to her neck like it had been before. "I can't do anything I used to. I can't reach. I can't lift. I get winded if I go too long without rest. I get tired. I'm weak and I hate being weak, but if he gets caught, if he pushes his luck too far... I can't go live on the run like you guys. I can't go fight. I've got nothing left to do but rot here until I die, but if I'm going to rot somewhere I'm not leaving my city behind. I figure I can die out there or I can die in here and I'd rather die in my own territory."
She said it like she was earnestly trying to justify something to him or argue. It wasn't like he was asking her to go put her life on the line, actually just the opposite. But she still felt disgusted. Felt the need to defend herself. To not be seen as a coward.
Even though she felt like a coward. Even though for all the ferociousness she defended her home with and turned people away, seeing Xanthus in her kitchen ravenously hungry seemed to melt away her resolve in her choices.
Her prideful facade as she adjusted her collar wavered and broke. "If it all came to an end and we died right now would you have any regrets? About what you chose to do?"
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Posted: Mon Aug 11, 2014 7:54 am
That was a difficult question, and one that deserved a continued, regretful pause from eating, though perhaps not as regretful an idea as it could have been, since eating too much too fast came with it's own downside. He looked at his hand, the one he always looked at when people asked about regrets, the one he'd come back with one night years ago with his shoulder still broken, knuckles battered and fingers and palm bleeding. He did not talk about that night, but it was where he always looked when the word 'regret' came up. "I have regrets." He admitted. "But fighting isn't one of them. Neither is knowing you." He took a breath and continued. "I can't mirror walk. Most of the healing I can do involves applying a bandage or pressure to a wound until actual help arrives, I'm a marginal strategist... but I can fight. I can take hits, and I can do everything I can to keep people away from the Negaverse for just one more day if I can. So I do that. And I don't regret it. But that's on me. Not you." She had Luxor, and a home, and scars he did regret because he hadn't been there when she needed someone to stop them from hurting her, and he'd have worn every last one of them if he could.
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Posted: Tue Aug 12, 2014 6:20 am
Zia's eyes remained mostly downcast as she fiddled with the topmost button on her blouse. The words mirrorwalk made them snap up to attention with a wide intensity, though.
"...God, I haven't done that in so long..." Which stirred a few pieces of broken heart. Zia had loved her mirrors to the point of being creepy. There was solace and home and freedom in mirror magic to her, even if that sense of nostalgia and home belonged to Zirconia. It still had a grip on her, apparently.
The rest of his words sunk in too. He sounded almost content, at least relatively. Dynamic where she stagnated. Her pulse jacked, she shifted her heels on the hardwood floor. She repressed a rising urge to reach over and grab him in a hug like she used to.
"You're not one of my regrets either." Instead she fiddled with the way her sleeve cuffs were hanging on her thin wrists.
"Are you going to be able to make it past the patrols when you leave? How are you going to get out without a permit?"
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