ArchivedLogs:Seeking Monsters

Seeking Monsters
Dramatis Personae Anole, Jackson, Nox
In Absentia	2013-06-03 (Part of Them! TP)
Location <MOR> Below New York and <MOR> Welcome to the Freakshow
Buried beneath the bustle and noise of New York's busy streets, the world underneath the city is a quieter place. Quieter, but far from deserted. Occasional ladders, often rusting, ascend to the city above and are evidence that at /one/ point these tunnels had been in use, or had been planned for it; perhaps by way of maintenance, or access to subways or sewers. These stretches have been abandoned by civic infrastructure for some time now, though, but occasional scraps of evidence -- discarded food wrappers, piles of tatty blankets or moldering old mattresses, sometimes voices carrying echoes through the dank concrete -- give evidence that /someone/ still uses these tunnels. The rumbling of subway trains sounds frequently through the walls, many of the train routes accessible through various doors and openings. There is not always a lot of light to be found, down in these tunnels. Jax has not brought a lot of it /with/ him, either. There's a flashlight hanging from a clip on his belt, but it is switched off. His clothes are drab; a lightweight pair of black cargo pants, sturdy waterproof hiking boots, a long-sleeved blue tee shirt. Black hair flopping down over his eyepatch. He moves with the clear unfamiliarity of someone who does not know these tunnels or where he is going. Slow. Cautious. Though not overly /concerned/ -- he doesn't seem so much lost as looking, his fingertips trailing against the cool dank wall. Quiet footsteps save their occasional splashing in unnoticed puddles. There's a distinct /strain/ to his breathing, though, that grows with the darkness, and in this slowly more forced sound he is easily pinpointed, whistling soft but steadily harsher through tightly clenched teeth. At intervals he stops for no readily apparent reason save to place hand more firmly against the wall, lean there a long minute with eye closing. It never stays closed long, though, opening again to look out into the dark. Seeing into the infrared is only middling-helpful with no other warm bodies around. There is not all that /much/ Anole is good at but he is definitely good at creeping. His approach down the dark tunnel is quieter still than Jax's. Occasional soft whisper of denim against concrete but mostly not /much/ to it, bare hands and bare feet clinging to the ceiling where he crawls steadily closer to the source of that breathing. Until he's practically atop it -- not /entirely/, still a few feet away during one of those pauses of Jax's, pressed flat to the ceiling, skin and t-shirt and ragged jean shorts all faded into the murky drab of stained old concrete and shadow. Though his eyes have adjusted to lots of darkened sewerlurking he doesn't have the benefit of any particularly acute night vision inherently and so in the pitch-dark he just waits, a moment, listening. And then ventures soft from his ceilingperch: "-- Who's there?" Jax freezes where he stands, fingers pressing harder against the cool concrete. His head is slow to turn. Upwards, towards the source of that voice, gaze slowly sweeping the dark. Briefly almost missing Anole, cool lizard against cool stone, but then returning. He relaxes in slow increments, exhaling a quiet breath, shoulders dropping downwards. "Hi," he says, also quiet though his thick Southern drawl is as distinctive as ever. "Me. Jax. I'm lookin' for Nox. She said not to come /too/ deep on my own." Anole relaxes, too, at the familiar voice. At least for a /second/ and then he tenses again, squeaking kind of guiltily: "-- Oh no Mr. Jax, I might have gotten muck on your pretty suit I'm sorry." Scurryscurry, it's less quiet now as he slithers his way along the ceiling and down the wall to drop nearby Jax. "Hi. Here. Can you see, I know where to go hold on." He reaches out a hand tentatively, fumbling for -- is that a shoulder? Chest? FACE? Who knows where his hand lands first but it's aiming to slide down to Jax's hand /eventually/. "There's monsters," he informs the older man matter-of-factly, "so you have to be careful." He's already starting (with Jax's hand in tow!) back towards the wall but then stops sheepishly to put his feet on the ground instead. "... oh right you can't. Um. /Right/ okay, walking. On the ground." Even in the darkness there's a smile curling Jax's lips as the lizardboy scurries closer, and though he initially tenses at the hand reaching out to his arm it passes soon. His hand is much warmer than the teenager's as he curls his fingers around Anole's, initially half-stepping towards the wall before: "N-noo, yeah, I can't, uh, do that. Kinda wish I /could/." His other hand drops to his hip, fingers touching against the flashlight. "I can see," he allows, although it's kind of shaky-uncertain, "Can you?" "Nope!" Anole sounds quite unbothered by this, though. "But I know where we are." Tugtugtug! He pulls at Jax's hand, starting off with a quiet splash (of bare feet in god-knows-what sort of puddle) further into the dark. "And where to go." There's a moment of quiet. Just walking. Guiding Jax -- largely sticking against the wall and avoiding the deeper puddles and occasional deeper /pits/ more central in the tunnel. "-- how's, um. How's Shane doing?" This is voiced kind of quieter. Kind of shyer. Jax is more than happy for the guiding. His other hand /stays/ against the wall -- juuuust in case. Even with Anole leading the way he's kind of hesitant in his movements, probably slowing the teenager down considerably with his uncertain steps. "Shane's alright," he answers after a pause. "You know. Kind of blue. Kind of sharky. Are there really /monsters/ or just --" "/Definitely/ monsters," Anole cuts in emphatically. "Like the kind that will eat you so don't -- get. Eaten. Um." He's only a /little/ impatient. Occasional tugs. For the most part he slows his pace to match Jax's. "... blue is good." Then another stretch of quiet. Can infrared vision detect /blushing/ because there is a definite displacement of blood flushing up his admittedly already pretty-cool cheeks to warm them slightly. "Are you okay?" he volunteers after a bit. "I mean like you seem a little um. I don't know are you --" His hand moves to Jax's elbow, guiding him wide -- away from the wall this time! -- around some crumbling piled debris. "You don't have to be scared," he eventually says, aiming for reassuring, "I promise I won't get you lost. Or probably not eaten either." Maaaybe infrared vision can detect that shift of heat but Jax isn't commenting -- save a slight squeeze of Anole's hand. "Oh," he says with an abrupt breath, quick-startled gasp, "I'm not -- I mean. Maybe," he admits, "a /little/ but it's just. I don't." He stumbles a little at that reroute away from the wall, but skirts around where Anole leads him. "-- not too fond of the dark," he admits. "Um. Thanks. For --" There's a beat of pause as he edges just a little closer to his guide. "... not getting me eaten?" "But you're friends with Nox." Anole sounds a little surprised by Jax's admission. "I mean, the dark is only scary when it's full of --" Though here /he/ pauses before finishing kiiiind of wryly: "Oh. Monsters." "I'll take the monsters," Jackson says this with a little bit of a laugh in his voice. "The darkness can be hers." "Oh," Anole answers this quite /seriously/ as he leads Jackson deeper into shadow, "it is." <MOR> Welcome to the Freakshow Wider and more spacious than many of the surrounding nooks and niches, this chill cavern is the central hub of the Morlock's underground network. With tunnels branching off in many directions, it takes a while to learn to /navigate/ from here to where you want to go, but there's generally plenty of more experienced people around to teach newcomers the ins and outs of the pathways. Here, though, is a safe place to come and relax, for what value of relaxation can be found among moss-covered walls and the occasional stagnant puddles on the floor. There's been furniture brought in, a mismatched assortment of crates, mattresses with busted springs, a few broken and subsequently repaired chairs, a folding table in a corner. Shelves along a wall hold entertainment; books, a smattering of board and card games, sometimes snacks. There's even electricity, wiring none too safe and visible in places where the wall has been broken open; the naked light bulbs flicker often and the lone outlet has had so many power strips attached it is undoubtedly a fire hazard. It is a chamber made for chaos but, much like when eyes adjust the dark, if one looks long enough they will be able to see the patterns underlying it all. There is a great deal of bustle among the Morlocks today--people are streaming into the cavern here, people are leaving it there, goods are being moved, debris is being shifted. Something that looks very much like a war briefing is occurring in one corner, where a sharp-faced woman in a wheelchair is instructing a motley assembly of Sewer Knights. Nearest the tunnel through which Anole and Jax are slated to arrive, someone has built a fire within an old oil drum. Holes have been punched in the side to let the light escape, turning it into an oversized lamp. The dancing flames are something of a beacon to those emerging from darkness. But no sooner do they emerge, than darkness is rushing to greet them. Nox peels free of the briefing when Anole is sensed nearby, skating along ceiling and wall to materialize beside the pair. As she takes form, the dull grey lashmarks of healing wounds are visible over her body. There are fresh marks as well, but these are darker and look less serious. She goes for the boy with arms open, looking to wrap him in them--only to pause with wide eyes and a look of shock upon recognizing his companion. "...Mister Holland? You...you are here." The dancing flames are probably a beacon to Jackson more than most; his face turns towards them and the breath he draws in seems like a ragged /gasp/ after too much suffocation. Emerging from the lengthy walk through darkness he looks -- considerably different than he tends to in the sunlit world above. No bright-coloured illusion to add sparkle to his clothes, hair, face, but, too, no illusion to /hide/ the pitted scars that spread down his arm, up the side of his neck, up the side of his face. Their stipple of pockmarking over flesh that normally looks whole and healthy lends his eyepatch less of its RAKISH PIRATE air and more just the look of what it actually /is/, bandaging plastered over one more disfigurement among many. His smile, though, is the same. Quick and bright even despite his current pallor, and though his hand squeezes tighter in Anole's (before dropping it) when Nox rushes closer he doesn't pull away. "Nox," he says, drawing himself up a little straighter. "-- just Jax is alright. Um. Hi. I'm -- sorry, I don't -- I didn't know how to contact you without -- coming." "I found him!" Anole sounds brightly proud of this, squeezing Jax's hand /back/ and then dropping it to scurry closer and squeeeeze Nox in a quick hug. "Up higher. And I didn't get him lost even /once/ bringing him -- even though I had to walk on the ground," which he sounds a /little/ disgruntled about but! These are the sacrifices one must make. For people who are not lizards. "-- woah." He's looking at Jax in light now for the first time and it makes his green eyes widen, brow wrinkling in concern. "What happened are --" But it's only in the middle of this that he looks a little closer, finally clicking that the scars are /old/; confusion takes the place of concern and he ducks his head sheepishly. "... he said he wanted to talk to you," he explains to Nox, continuing kind of awkward-shy now, "/plus/ I need to give him back his /suit/." He frowns. "I got muck on it," he says (again) like maybe /now/ this will be deserving of Repercussions. "You are the very best of sentries, Anole," Nox murmurs, dipping to touch a kiss to the top of his spiky head. "And I am certain Mister...I am certain Jax understood that it might become soiled. Will you be a dear, and fetch some extra lanterns from the storeroom? He will be more comfortable as our guest if we can provide him with more light, I think." Somehow she makes that whispering fond and proud, all in one, even as she lifts her eyes to Jackson again. /That/ look is rather more serious. "Some water as well? Or...I am not certain what we might have to drink. It is...we have had..." Mm. Yes. She will try again! If she were normal, she'd take a breath and release it slowly. Instead, Nox flickers darkly and then steadies herself. "Please forgive us, Jackson. You will not have come without good reason but we have had some troubles of late and...how can I help you?" "Oh, honey-honey, don't worry none about the suit," Jackson dismisses these concerns with a shake of his head. "M'glad you got some good use outta it, it ain't fit me since high school nohow. You can keep it, if you like it." This is light, casual even if the quick sweep of his gaze around the room is less so. He still smiles, though, when he looks back at Nox. "It's alright, you don't gotta -- I don't need nothin', really. Nothin' to drink, anyhow." He's not going to say no to the lanterns. His brow creases, though. He looks Nox over more seriously. "Troubles? What's goin' on, Nox, is -- anything I can help with? I actually came down to -- there's been --" But he hesitates, biting at his lip; in the end concern wins out and he returns to: "Y'all doing alright?" Anole straightens with a brighter smile at the praise. He does not /have/ much by way of chest to puff out, skinny-small thing that he is, but he's probably trying. "Oh! Yes! I can --" He is /already/ starting to scuttle off to be HELPFUL but he scoots back to ask: "... wait /lanterns/ are you sure?" He's frowning at Nox's scars. But he adds in (proud again): "I brought home," read: shoplifted, "a whole /box/ of those pouchy-juices there might still be some! I -- don't know what kind." Formalities first, /then/ business. Nox is unbudging in regards to etiquette. She lifts her hand to brush it over Anole's spikes when he darts back, giving him the fondest of smile. "It will be all right, little love, it is darker here even with lanterns. Perhaps some apple juice. That is refreshing, yes? Good for replacing fluids lost during a long, dark walk." Then her focus shifts back to Jax. There is another flicker-sigh. "There are things. In the tunnels. New monsters. They have breached our tunnels, hurt our people. One man died. We are...concerned. They were too close to our home, here." "Oh -- well juice would -- be great," Jackson admits with a small smile to Anole. Turning down water is one thing but turning down sugar he will not do so readily. The smile fades entirely at Nox's words. "New monsters," he echoes, "someone -- oh, gosh. I'm sorry, I --" He lifts his hand to scuff his fingers through his black hair, looking around the room again with greater concern. "It was monsters I come to ask you about, actually," he admits, "there was some problems up top and I was worried that they might -- but maybe they already /have/ --" His face scrunches up a moment and he continues the next with the sort of steeled rush of someone who is juuust a little worried that what they're about to say sounds Kind Of Crazy: "-- are there giant /bugs/ messing with all y'all down here?" "Juice! OK, we can juice. And lantern." SCUR-- ohnowait. Anole is halfway up a wall to head towards a /different/ tunnel when he peers back at Jax. "-- there /were/ bugs," he affirms, "and they're -- ohrightjuice." ZIP. He vanishes into another shadowy tunnel-mouth. The boy speaks truth! Nox tilts her head to watch him, mingled affection and concern visible in the dim light showing her expression. When that regard shifts back to Jax, it has turned to a look that attempts reassurance--he is not crazy! "They are digging tunnels. To a vault, they said, on behalf of someone or something named Thea. A queen figure of some sort, perhaps. Though...mmm. Perhaps you should tell me what problems you have had, on the surface." "A vault?" Jackson echoes this with a look of puzzlement, relaxing /somewhat/ at the assurance that yes! giant bugs! before it settles in: oh crap! giant bugs! His palm scrubs against his cheek. "Thea. What, like -- like a hive -- mmn." For some reason this makes his eye scrunch up. He draws in a deep breath and continues with less awkward-worried rush: "There's a town out in Jersey that -- half the town just /sunk/, they thought sinkholes or somethin'. We went out to see what might have happened and while we were looking around, we ran into a couple of -- giant ants that attacked us. Seemed like they'd had big tunnels dug under the town, too. But that was Jersey. Kinda far. Except now there's a boy missing from school and my kids say that his trail -- they can smell things real good," he backtracks to explain with a wrinkle of his nose, "and his trail just /ended/ in a lot of bug-smell. So they thought maybe it was something that flew. Except trying to figure how enormous /bugs/ got all the way from Jersey to Westchester without nobody noticing, Shane thought maybe -- maybe they was underground. And I wanted to come check and make sure that y'all weren't --" He lifts a hand, gesturing to the tunnels, and it's almost apologetic when he says: "... but I guess I'm kinda already too late to give you no warnings. What's been going on, do y'all need -- anything?" His gaze has travelled away from Nox, settling distant on a small black-scaled toddler with no small measure of concern. "Ants," Nox whispers, her chin lowering. "Yes. They would be excellent at tunneling. We...found termites. I believe they were termites. Chewing concrete. At the direction of a preying mantis. Come." It's only a few steps towards the oil drum. There are milk crates upturned nearby and she retrieves three of them, arranging them within the ring of light--though hers is on the outermost edge, to be sure. There she settles, hands folding in her lap. "They wished to be left alone. They...spoke. Poorly, but it was speech. They attempted to bribe us away. With money. As insects have no need of cash, I suspect whatever this Thea is, we are dealing with a mutant. You say a boy has gone missing?" Jackson settles down with visible relief on the crate, and instinctively his attention shifts, drawn more to the light than to Nox. There is a slow creep of change, gradual and almost unthinking as he sits near the oil-drum-lamp; the scars on his hands and arms start to vanish, skin smoothing over, tattoos peeking out from the hem of his shirt whole and more vibrant than before. "-- Termites working /for/ a mantis?" Jax's gaze is still fixed on the fire; it's with an apologetic look that he draws it away to look more politely /at/ his conversational partner. "Yes'm. Kid -- he," he hesitates a moment before saying, "-- he can speak to bugs so there's -- a connection. If they're working for someone -- maybe s'someone who can do what he does, too." He frowns. "-- except /also/ make bugs enormous?" He can't help a shudder, here. The smoothing-over of skin continues up his neck, over his face, pitted scars disappearing. His hands tremble slightly, in his lap, and he glances down at them. Glances back up and around the room at the comings and goings of the Morlocks. There's a decided blush in his cheeks as illusion vanishes entirely once more. "They tried to /bribe/ you? Did they -- you said a man died?" Creepcreepcreep. There is a mottly sewercoloured lizard sneaking back along the wall -- OK, it /would/ be sneakier if not for the rattling of the pair of lanterns he has hung off of his belt loops. So, well, OK, it's not sneaky at all. Rattlerattlerattle. There is also a pouch of Capri Sun ('Surfer Cooler', whatever type of fruit THAT may be) held in his teeth. He scuttles down the wall to head over to the oil drum, conscientiously wiping the pouch clean of saliva on his (... preeeetty dirty) t-shirt before offering it to Jax. "We were out of apple," he says apologetically, "I think this flavour is like." He looks uncertainly at the picture of a surfing woman on the silvery pouch. "... tropical." He unhooks the lanterns from his belt, opening the hatches on both of them and moving nearer the oil drum to light them from the already-lit fire; he also-conscientiously turns their open grates away from Nox as he does this. And sets them down on the /far/ side of Jax's crate. "I think he got scared," he volunteers -- a little meekly? Maybe not-sure about talking when adults are talking? "I mean he didn't, he wasn't. Hurt. I don't think they would've hurt us if --" He blushes, looking down at the lanterns and then sidling over to perch in a crouch on the third crate. "If he can speak to insects...yes." Nox is watching Jax, observing those changes, back and forth. She says nothing about them, just watches solemnly as he settles. "I can see how that might be of interest. They..." She pauses here, with Anole's return, smiling for the boy and gesturing him to that third crate--why else set it out? "As he says. Our man, he...he appeared to have suffered a heart attack. After...touching one of them. It was his talent. And they might have allowed us to go in peace, but..." She flickers, this time for an extended period. It takes an effort to return to tangibility. "Not all of our members are...diplomatic. In regards to. Excursions. Into our territory. He lost fingers for it," she says with a glance at Anole. "And two of the insects died. The others...the workers...they escaped." Jackson leans forward, accepting the juicebag with a grateful smile, an even more grateful "thanks" as he peels off its straw to punch it into the pouch. He sucks at this hungrily, shifting to rest his elbows on his knees as he drinks. Leaning just slightly more towards the sources of light. His pallor isn't really vanishing but the tremble in his hands is, at least. "I," he starts out carefully, "can understand why -- it's important to have your space. Be yours." He sucks again from the juice, the pouch starting to crinkle inwards in his hand. "I expect y'all are well more'n capable of protecting your own, but if there's anything I can -- do to help, 'least till we know more about what they're even lookin' for or who they're --" He frowns deeper, looking towards the oil drum. "Escaped off into the tunnels? But if they was down here /working/ they might could come back." This thought does nothing to stop his frown. "... could track 'em, perhaps. See where they gone to." Anole is largely quiet. Listening. His toes curl over the edge of the crate, tucked down to cling against it. His elbows perch on his knees, chin propped in his hands. "They were tunneling I guess. Um. To a -- bank? Vault. Something. It's hard to -- track things down here they don't leave a lot of --" His eyes widen suddenly. "-- I guess they'd leave a /smell/." "The tunnel they created remains open," Nox murmurs in apparent agreement, "we do not have the resources with which to close it entirely. If it leads to a typical warren, however...there is never /one/ ant in an ant hill. It is possible we will require help, if they return. But going to their source...that is something else entirely." She fixes Jackson with dark eyes. "Particularly if one's children are involved in the tracking process. These creatures are dangerous. Faster, smarter, stronger. Underground, I am often the most dangerous monster," she says, touching a finger to one of the darker streaks on her shoulder, "but they damaged me before we killed them." Jax's knuckles scrub at his eye for a moment. "Don't generally /want/ to go pokin' at no hornets' nests," he agrees. "But figuring out where they come from's probably important. They might come back. And they might have one'a mine." His gaze strays to the streaks on Nox's shoulder, and his teeth clench down against the plastic straw. "Don't want to fight them. Just want to find them." "They didn't seem like they were going to -- I mean, before we -- I think maybe they'd been told /not/ to hurt us," Anole says, a little uncertainly. "Like they gave the money. And held back. Maybe if you were -- if you didn't try to --" His toes wiggle against the crate. His cheeks puff out, exhaling again sharply. "... I mean if the person they -- work for the Thea-person if she's a mutant /too/ maybe she -- maybe she'll want -- maybe you could just talk to her?" He sounds more hopeful about this. Nox extends an arm to curl it over Anole's shoulders. "They were not immediately hostile, no," she agrees, "and it is possible they would not be aggressive should we approach them in the correct way." Whatever that way might be. Her own countenance has darkened with the reminder of the missing child. "But if she is a mutant, then she should know that kidnapping children is not viewed kindly. Moreso than crossing another's territory. But...mm. Yes. We could find them. We could speak with her. We can hope she took the boy only because he...was similar, perhaps?" "She might well be one'a us," Jackson agrees, drumming fingers against the crumpled side of his juice pouch. He sucks the last of it down with a slurp. "-- but if she is, she should -- /be/ one'a us. Not. Kidnapping --" His words end in a sharp exhale. "Could you show me? Where the bugs done come? I'd -- I'd want to bring someone down here who could track 'em, but I don't want to bring nobody into your home without your --" He waves a hand towards the room at large. "Permission." "They weren't /here/ anyway," Anole answers Jax, eyes shifting away towards a far tunnel. "Away. A bit away. If you -- if we knew when you were coming I could show you. Where. Without bringing anyone /here/ at all." He glances to Nox questioningly at this, for confirmation. But. Then. Adds with a slight blush: "... but if it was Shane and Bastian I think. I think maybe they'd be /okay/. Here. At least I'd like --" He looks back down at his toes. Wigglewiggle. "Anole has learned his way here very quickly," Nox says with a small smile for the boy. It is permission, of a sort. "He could show you safely, I'm sure." Then she looks down at her joined hands. Her fingers have lost definition, melting into each other. Her hands are threatening to be lost similarly in the haze of her lap. "And he...is it your boys that you intend to bring, Mister--Jax? He is. Very fond of them. Since. It would...I would /like/ for him to have friends. His age. Though...I would prefer less /serious/ play dates." "Oh! I didn't -- I wasn't --" Jax glances down at Nox's hands, watching their blurring for a moment. "I don't really want to bring the kids into -- I mean, this is /dangerous/ I don't honestly want," he says this to Anole /apologetically/, "to get you involved none /either/. Would sure appreciate a guide, though." For a moment a smile flickers out, displacing some of the worry in his expression. "But if you want to hang out with them more we could -- I could -- I'm sure they'd love to come visit. /Without/ the giant bugs just. To hang out. If that's an OK thing." "That'stotallyanOKthing," spills out in an immediate rush, Anole's head lifting with sudden perk before he glances sideways to Nox again. "Um, I mean, I think. They're. They're cool." His head dips back down to prop his chin in his palms. "/I/ don't want to fight any bugs, I could -- show you /without/ fighting them I," he drops his voice a little guiltily, "like all my fingers." Although here he glances to Jax's scarred hand, its stump of finger, and flushes deep. "...sorry," is mumbled quieter. He looks at Nox, too, and it's kind of tentative when he says: "... when we were at. In the. They said maybe I could go. To their schoolplace. Study. I think. I mean I don't. That -- that -- might. Be OK. Too?" This is more tentative. He's watching Nox more carefully, now. Relief. It washes over Nox like a wave of pure black, darkening her features, making her expression more difficult to read but also bringing her back into the realm of solid things. She's smiling at Jax, even if it can't be easily made out. "I would prefer that. That...your boys. Visit. They have been through enough," she murmurs with a brief glance at Anole, "and I can guide you just as well while he enjoys the company of his friends." The matter of school is something else entirely, however. The flickering resumes, faster this time, phasing her in and out. She's able to bring it under control only /after/ it's clear that the idea of Anole /away/ is distressing. "It...is something. We can. Consider. Later." "I'll let them know," Jackson says, his tone a little lighter. "They was thrilled to see you the other night, m'sure they'd be just as thrilled to come down and -- hang out. School'll --" He flushes slightly darker, glancing over to Nox's flickering, "-- be finished after this week anyhow, they'll have plenty of time." His hand rubs at the back of his neck. "Though school itself's a question y'all should probably -- discuss yourselves." He sucks again at his chewed-up straw, although now only a couple droplets of juice slurp their way up from the flattened pouch. "If you've got time this week, though? We can come back. Let the twins see your home and we --" He glances to Nox. "Can go bughunting?" Anole quiets at Nox's flickering, and reaches a hand out to rest over -- whatever fuzzyshadowpart might be her hands when her phasing settles. "It's OK," he says, quiet-reassuring, "I won't. They can come /here/, see? He said." He gives her a quick smile. Bright. "While you guys look for bugs and, OK, please /don't/ get eaten by them. Either of you." If there aren't hands there, Nox quickly creates them to allow the gesture from Anole. "We can discuss it. I promise we will. When it...where there is less...after. After. I promise." She curls her fingers through the boy's and maintains a gentle grasp while she looks back to their guest. "We will make time. Sooner is better. Sooner, that we may find your child. And keep this from happening again. Whenever you are ready." Jax's tongue presses up beneath his lip, brow creasing as he stares into the fire. "Sooner's better," he agrees. He draws in a breath, slow. "Tomorrow? Is that too soon?" "You'll bring the twins?" It's hopeful again. Bright. Anole squeezes Nox's hand gently. "-- I mean and also, um. Whoever can. Help. Find your person." His cheeks flush a little, too. But he /wriggles/ excitedly on his crate. "Tomorrow," Nox murmurs, before lifting Anole's hand to her lips. Kiss! Right in front of company, too. Maternal instincts have no shame. To him, she says solemnly, "It will be your responsibility to keep them safe while they are here. It is /truly/ dangerous, below. You know the ways, they do not. If you can promise, then they may come." "I'll bring them," Jax assures Anole with a smile, once Nox has imparted this solemn charge on the lizardboy, "so long's you take that," he nods to Nox, "to mind." He starts to roll up his juice pouch, squeezing it from the bottom up to get the last couple drops out of it as he crunches it down into a small neat-rolled tube. He gets to his feet, slowly, attention returning to the fire. He draws in a slow breath, lets it back out. "This time tomorrow, then? You'll have to meet me up nearer the surface, I don't -- I wouldn't remember the way back here." He pulls his gaze reluctantly from the light, looking to Nox instead. "And thank you. I'm sorry that I -- intruded, I just wanted to make sure. Y'know where I live, please don't hesitate -- if y'all need anything at all." His head dips, a polite nod. "Tomorrow." Anole's wriggling subsides long enough for him to hop off his crate and throw his arms around Nox tight. "I'll look out! I'll keep them safe. Tomorrow /thank/ you." He bounces on his toes, once, and then darts over to hook his arm through Jax's, stooping to pick up one of the lanterns though he holds it kind of awkwardly behind his legs. "I can show you back up. Look. We'll bring you a light this time." "It is no intrusion. None at all. We said we would help each other, yes?" Nox pauses then to accept the hug from Anole, her eyes closing while it lasts. She's reluctant to let him go--rather than release him, her arms simply go hazy so he can pass through them and away. "This time tomorrow," she agrees. "Perhaps two of the lanterns, dear. It is a long trip, he will be...you will...take as much light as you need, please. Better to be safe." Because light is not only for /seeing/. "We did. And will." Jackson's smile is warmer. He steps away from the fire, from the light, to reach out a hand to touch Nox's lightly. "Tomorrow. I'll see you." The suggestion of extra light makes him look relieved. Also a little sheepish, as he brushes fingers against the flashlight on his hip. "I brought -- I just didn't want to -- I didn't know when I'd see you so I didn't. Want." His nose crinkles. He dips his head again. "See you." Anole scoops up the second lantern, too! "'kay! We'll bring you /all/ the light." SWOOP. He's snagging a Jax. And tugging him away from these goodbyes! "And we'll go slow so you can /see/ the way this time -- I'll be back soon!" This is chirruped brightly to Nox, as he whisks the photokinetic back off into the now cheerfully lantern-lit dark.