ArchivedLogs:We'll See

We'll See
Dramatis Personae Dusk, Isra, Joshua
In Absentia	2014-11-06 '
Location Jail
Cramped and small, this thick-walled concrete room offers very little by way of comfort or privacy. There's a cot on one side with thin grey mattress, thin grey blankets, thin grey pillow. On the other side sits a lidless steel toilet with built-in sink atop it. There's not a whole lot by way of /room/, about six feet by eight feet. No windows to the outside, and a solid heavy steel door rather than bars; a barred window in the door is usually kept shuttered from without, as is the slot in the wall where a shelf protrudes and meals are often slid through. A single wan light in the ceiling provides dim illumination whenever the guards care to turn it on. In here it's dark; it makes it hard to tell exactly what time of day it might be. There's an abandoned tray of food on the shelf in the wall though it -- mostly looks like an unappetizing brick paired with some formless mush; it's hard to tell exactly what meal it's meant to be. At any rate it's untouched. The lightbulb in the ceiling is off, leaving the room largely cast into darkness. It's cold in here, an uncomfortable chill that, thankfully, isn't also /dank/. Dry. Just cold. Dusk is sitting up, at least! On the edge of his cot, booted feet planted on the floor and his wings curled around himself. He's shirtless, prison uniforms not really /designed/ for his anatomy; he's curled a blanket around his chest and shoulders but there's still gooseflesh prickling his arms where his wrists poke out from under it. His hands are folded against his knees, head bowed and eyes closed. Joshua's arrival into the room is less flashy than Ion's last night. No spark, no pop, no flash. Just a soft displacement of air and the sudden /feel/ of two new beating hearts in the darkness. Joshua's is a bit elevated from its usual slow-steady, adrenaline spike of teleporting, perhaps. Or of teleporting into a jail. Joshua's deep dry voice murmurs soft in the darkness: "Reports of your death..." If Isra's arrival didn't displace that much air, the unfurling of her wings certainly does--a wave of warmer air, smelling faintly of lavender. Her talons click against the floor as she shifts away from Joshua, lowering her center of gravity, then going still for a moment. It is not a very long moment. No gentle brush of wing on wing now, she more or less tackles Dusk to the bed. Dusk's head shifts upward, swift, startled; his eyes don't really open much but there's a faint largely-inaudible click-hum that ripples through the room. There's a rustle-shift as /his/ wings unfurl -- tensed and /ready/ until, a moment later, identification comes back to him. "Only barely ex --" But his words cut off here in a soft /whoomph/ of exhaled breath, a sudden startled gasp as he is born backwards. His wings come up, wrapping up around Isra even as his arms do. "Oh. /Oh/." And for the moment, face buried against Isra's neck, that's all he manages. Against her body his own is gaunt, whittled down to bones and skin with his usual ropey muscles melted away. Joshua is quiet through this. Head tipped down, thumbnail pressed to lips. Leaning back against the wall. Maybe watching. Maybe /not/. It's /dark/, after all, and /he/ can't see in it. Though with a telepath's senses and two people who /can/ see in it, he is probably managing just fine. "We're here to help with that." Isra's voice is a low rumble against Dusk's ear, her talons sharp where they dig into his shoulders. "I'm your supper tonight." Like him, she has lost weight, though not to nearly so alarming a degree. Her wings squeeze down against him--a little awkwardly, given their position, but still warm and strong. There is a hitch in her voice when she finally speaks again. "I have missed you so. There's..." She twists slightly in his embrace, pressing her neck against his lips. "We don't know how much time we have. You need to eat. I brought bandages." "You brought," Joshua reminds, quiet and mild from his dark corner of the room, "me." Dusk nestles closer into the warmth of Isra's wings, and though he /doesn't/ speak there's a hitch in his breath as well. He doesn't require a lot of encouragement, once Isra tells him to eat. His lips brush just once to her neck in a light kiss before fangs sink in, swift and sharp. The thump of his heart grows stronger, where his body presses to hers, breathing a little faster as well as he drinks. Given Joshua's immediate proximity the bites he leaves are a little bit deeper than he might otherwise care to make. He's a little less shivery once he's done, a little less tense. His tongue swipes almost lazily against the punctures. "... missed you, too." One hand traces against her side. "You don't feel well." "Thank you." Isra mutters, resting her head heavily on Dusk's shoulder. "Joshua," she adds, shivering as if such a thing were contagious. "I'm not...well, but not ill, either. I'm sorry. I need to tell you..." Her wings squeeze in again, weaker than before, shakier. "Hive is dying. They--they said he had about a month to live." Dusk tenses again, sharply. His breath catches, his face pressing up against Isra's neck despite the blood still trickling from it. He shakes his head sharply, fingers curling in tightly against Isra's sides. "No -- no, but he was. His surgery went /well/ there was -- treatment, Dr. Toure is one of the best --" His shoulders shudder. "... I should /be/ there. The -- my -- blood, it /helps/ --" Joshua shifts, quiet in the dark. He slips over towards the cot, resting a hand on the back of Isra's neck. The dripping wounds in her throat begin to seal back up, leaving only their trails of blood behind. His other hand moves to Dusk's shoulder. Not healing. Just resting there, warm and solid, for a small firm squeeze. Isra nods, tucking her head against Dusk's neck. "But it wasn't enough." Her higher voice cracks, but she does not cry. "It just...wasn't enough." She trails off into a growl, body tensing and talons closing down hard enough to break skin. "We could get you out, you need only give the word. We could..." The anger drains from her all at once. "We might be having a baby." Joshua's hand squeezes juuust a little tighter. Dusk tenses, sharp, abrupt, his wings squeezing in against Isra in a hard press that presses talons into skin. "-- /what/." Isra sucks in a deep breath, and when she speaks again her voice is steady and calm. "Evidently I am not infertile; just oviparous. The egg might not even be viable. Doctors say they may be able to tell later, but there isn't a lot of...precedence for this." She holds Dusk tighter. "I'm sorry, you didn't need all of this. You have no obligation to..." Trailing off, she just collapses against Dusk. "I don't know what I'm trying to get at. I just thought you had a right to know." "You -- /egg/." Dusk sounds rather dumbfounded. "You -- we. Have -- an /egg/, but -- how do -- but." His wing shifts, slightly, rubbing gently where Joshua's hand presses to his shoulder. His face buries further against Isra's now-healed neck. "But we can't --" This stops, short and sudden. He takes one deep breath and then another, pressing fingers harder in against Isra. Finally, quieter: "-- What. Do you want -- to do?" Isra whimpers softly and shakes her head. "I don't know. Bringing a child into this kind of life--this kind of /world?/ It isn't fair." She is quiet for a moment. "I don't want to...terminate it, if it's viable. But I doubt we will have an easy time finding people willing to adopt any child of mine or yours. If that's so..." Propping herself up far enough to look Dusk in the eyes--her own catching and reflecting some errant ray of light and glowing pale green in the dark. "I'll be a mother." "This world's gonna be /rough/ on /any/ kid but -- but a kid of /ours/, what life could --" Dusk's head shakes, his breathing growing rougher. To Joshua's senses the sick clench of panic welling up inside him is easy to feel -- though even without any psionic senses it's easy enough in the accelerated beat of his heart, the harder squeeze of his fingers. "I -- want." He has to swallow a hard-knot in his throat before he can speak again. "... to be a. To support -- whatever decision. You make. But how -- /can/ -- I'm going to be here. And if I'm not here I'm going to be --" Another flutter of panic. "-- not in any position to be a father." "All right." Isra rests her forehead on Dusk's chest. "We'll see...what comes of this. Maybe nothing. But even then, I..." She props herself back up. "I dreamt about the future, though. In it, you were free, for what that's worth." Her words notwithstanding, she grows tense again, and a soft growl rises in her throat. "I love you. I will be at the hearing. I will look after Hive...and the egg. That's all I'm sure of right now." "I dreamt…" Dusk sounds a little wistful. "About you. Look after /yourself/. Please. I can't be sure of much right now but I want --" "... s'not like she's gotta do it alone. Her. Hive." Joshua's tone hasn't left its usual dry quiet. "They've all got people around." "I will." Isra works one wing free of Dusk's embrace and braces it against Joshua's arm. "And I do. Have people--my family, and /our/ family. We'll manage. But you...they'd have just as soon let you starve to death. We can't leave you in the legal system." "We should -- see. What the sentence is. I mean, if it's short, if it's -- could just. Serve my time and get /out/, cuz if I just /leave/ I won't -- really /have/ a life to…" Dusk hesitates, exhaling hard. "... but if it's not." He lets this just kind of hang, his eyes closing. "... not gonna let you starve to death, either way. However this goes down." Joshua's hand is rough and warm against Isra's wing, before he pulls back, leaning up against the wall once more. "We'll see." Isra echoes, though she sounds as though she is trying to convince herself. She curls back down against Dusk's side. Then, quietly, with more resolve, "We'll see." Dusk just nods, nestling in close against Isra. "We'll see."